Chapter 6 — Sword God Appears

Dieu Vy returned home safely. As soon as the door closed, she collapsed to the floor, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. Aunt Ngoc Hien quickly ran out to help her, panicking and asking questions, and when she heard her niece tell the whole story, her face turned pale. She hugged Dieu Vy tightly, her hand repeatedly caressing her back to reassure her, feeling both scared and sad for her grandchild who just wanted to live a peaceful life.

"You said that person followed you all the way here?" Ngoc Hien asked, her voice still shaking. Dieu Vy nodded and recounted that the mysterious benefactor had quietly escorted her to the end of the alley before leaving, without saying another word, without leaving his name or any sign so that she could find him again later to properly thank him.

That night, Dieu Vy couldn't sleep, the image of a man in a cotton shirt with strangely calm eyes kept appearing in her mind. She tried to remember every detail of that face, the way he tried to save people without hesitation, the way he kept a polite distance but still showed sincere concern. There was something about that person that made her feel both strange and familiar, as if she had met him somewhere in a distant childhood dream.

She did not know that the man, after leaving her alley, did not go far, but found a small inn nearby to rest, his heart was no less confused. Bach Trinh sat in the cramped room, the flickering oil lamplight illuminating his thoughtful face, his hand still tightly clasping the sword placed horizontally on his thigh as a habit from his youth.

He had just met again the child he once held in his arms, now grown into a beautiful young woman, carrying in her eyes the familiar features of her deceased father. The emotions welling up in his heart were so complex that he could hardly name them: there was joy when seeing her still safe, there was pain when remembering his lost friend, and there was torment when thinking that he had shied away from responsibility for this child for eighteen long years, just because he was too immersed in his own regret.

Outside, the chirping sound of insects rang out in the quiet night, and occasionally there was the sound of a dog barking in the distance from a certain alley. Bach Trinh sat motionless for a long time, his mind lingering on the image of Dieu Vy in the afternoon, her eyes frightened but still trying to maintain her courageous look. That look reminded him so much of Thanh Phong, who always maintained his composure even in the most dangerous situations. Perhaps, he thought, the father's essence was naturally passed on to his daughter, even though she had never been taught a day of martial arts or martial arts by her father.

He wondered whether he should tell Dieu Vy his true identity or not. If she told him, she would know that she was the "uncle" that her father had mentioned, she would understand the connection between the two, but at the same time she would have to face the question of why in the past eighteen years he had never once appeared, never once came to visit his soulmate's daughter. Bach Trinh wasn't sure she was ready to face that question, wasn't sure she could explain her own cowardice for all those years.

Furthermore, he still does not understand the real reason behind Dieu Vy's assassination. If you reveal your identity too early, it could make the situation more complicated, or worse, make the hidden enemy wary and change their plans, making it more difficult to investigate the truth. He decided that, at least for the time being, he would temporarily keep his identity private, only silently protecting Dieu Vy from afar, waiting until he found a clearer clue before considering going public.

The next morning, when Nhan Tam Duong pharmacy opened, a strange customer walked in, tall and thin, wearing a simple cloth shirt, it was Bach Trinh. He pretended to be a traveler passing by, asking to buy some medicine to treat wind and cold so he could have an excuse to approach and observe the situation. As soon as Dieu Vy saw him, she immediately recognized him, her eyes lit up with surprise and joy.

"It's yesterday's benefactor!" she exclaimed, hastily walking out of the pharmacy. "This young lady didn't have time to ask her benefactor's name. I'm so sorry. Please tell me your benefactor's name so that this young lady can repay you." Bach Trinh paused for a moment, then replied with a fake name that he had thought up in his mind last night: "Your name is Vuu, my name is Trinh. I'm just a traveler passing by. I happened to see something wrong and helped. You don't have to worry about repaying anything."

He kept his real name, only omitting the word Bach in the middle, a half-hearted compromise between hiding his identity and not wanting to completely lie to his deceased friend's daughter. Dieu Vy didn't have any doubts, she just felt that the name sounded strangely familiar, although she couldn't remember why.

"Mr. Uu saved this young lady's life. This favor you must remember," she said, her voice sincere. "If you don't mind, please come inside and have some tea, this young lady will repay you a little." Bach Trinh nodded in acceptance, followed her into the pharmacy, sat down on a simple wooden chair, his eyes quietly observing the surrounding scenery, where every little corner exuded the meticulous care of a young woman trying to preserve the family business.

During the conversation, Aunt Ngoc Hien also came out. After hearing Dieu Vy introduce that this was the benefactor who saved her niece last night, she couldn't hide her gratitude, continuously inviting him to eat more cakes and fruit, and at the same time not forgetting to ask more about his background, partly out of politeness, partly because of the natural vigilance of an experienced person.

Bach Trinh skillfully answered those questions with vague, general information, only saying that he once learned martial arts from an anonymous master, then traveled everywhere, without a permanent home or door. He deliberately did not mention the Tang Phong Mon, did not mention any details that could make listeners think of his true past.

While sitting and chatting, Bach Trinh's eyes accidentally stopped at a small corner of the wall, where an old embroidered picture hung, depicting a river winding through distant mountains. He immediately recognized that it was the gift that Thanh Phong had given his wife on their wedding occasion, a souvenir he had seen when visiting his friend's family in his younger years. His heart sank, but he still tried to keep his face calm, not letting any emotions show.

"This picture is so beautiful," he said, deliberately leading the conversation. "I wonder who embroidered it?" Dieu Vy smiled, with a bit of sadness in her voice: "This is a souvenir left by this young lady's parents. Listening to mother, this was a gift from father to mother when they first got married. Father personally hired someone to embroider for mother. Unfortunately, father passed away early, this young lady no longer remembers much about him, only keeping a few souvenirs like this to remember."

Bach Trinh nodded, his throat constricted, her fingers gently tightening around the hot tea cup as if to keep herself from blurting out something she shouldn't have said. He wanted to ask more about Thanh Phong, wanted to know what else she kept from her father, but was afraid that asking too much would make Dieu Vy suspicious. He had to restrain himself, just quietly drinking tea, listening to her tell a few more small stories about his childhood, about the difficult days after his mother passed away, about how she and Aunt Ngoc Hien rebuilt the pharmacy from scratch.

When saying goodbye and leaving, passing the corner at the beginning of the street, Bach Trinh suddenly stopped walking. Across the street, under the eaves of an abandoned fabric stall, there was a man standing against a pole, holding a fan in his hand, but his eyes did not follow the fan's blades but were fixed on Nhan Tam Duong pharmacy. His legs stood in a gentle stance that only people who have practiced martial arts for a long time can unconsciously maintain. As soon as he met Bach Trinh's eyes, he immediately lowered his eyes, folded his fan, and walked leisurely as if he was just an idle passerby. Bach Trinh stood silently, watching his back disappear into an alley, silently confirming what he had suspected before: those who were following Dieu Vy had not yet retreated, they were just waiting for him to make a mistake for a moment.

Before leaving, Bach Trinh advised Dieu Vy to be more careful, limit going out alone, especially in the evening, and at the same time expressed his desire to stay in this area for a while longer to help if something unexpected happened. Dieu Vy happily accepted the invitation, secretly feeling more secure knowing that there was such a strong martial artist willing to protect her.

Aunt Ngoc Hien saw her guests to the door. After Bach Trinh had gone, she turned to look at her niece with meaningful, searching eyes. "How do you see this Mr. Vuu?" she asked, half joking and half serious. Dieu Vy blushed and hesitantly replied that she was only grateful for saving her life, and didn't think about anything else. But in her heart, the image of that quiet man lingered forever, a strange feeling of security that she had never felt since the day her mother died, as if his presence brought with it some warmth from the distant past that she could not name.

Ngoc Hien pondered for a moment and then added, his voice more serious: "I don't know where this person comes from or what his background is, but martial arts like that are absolutely not normal. Just let him help, but don't be too quick to trust him completely, the gang is cruel, good and bad people are mixed, who knows if he can win people's hearts." Dieu Vy nodded yes, but in her heart, her intuition told her something completely different: that man, although there were still many unexplained mysteries, was absolutely not someone with any evil intentions towards her. That night, she dreamed again about the big hand that used to lead her for a walk by the river when she was a child. The only difference was that this time, the face in the dream was no longer blurry like always, but gradually showed strangely familiar features, features that she had just encountered somewhere, in a man in a cotton shirt she met less than two days ago.