could not breathe and passed out.
Victor found himself lying on a richly decorated table. He shot up, and accidentally knocked
off the chair. He turned around, and saw all sorts of precious items scattered across the room
– swords, necklaces and bracelets of gold. Just one would save both his parents. He laughed,
joyfully, and grabbed one of the treasures.
“Who’s messing up here?” an old, coarse voice questioned. Victor jumped in fear. “Good
strikingly handsome lad,” spoke the voice, “come, come to me.” Victor grabbed a sword and
walked to the source of the sound. He saw an old-timer, sitting on a throne, coughing. “Who are
you?” demanded Victor. “Who am I?” the old man grinned, “I am Marco Polo.”
Marco Polo. This name struck as heavily as the death of his grandfather. Victor eyed at the
old man, suspiciously, “You were dead, weren’t you? Have...have I passed into the void too?” Victor
sputtered. The old man laughed hysterically, “Calm, lad,” he spoke, “sit over here.” Victor went to
the designated seat. Marco Polo began his tale.
“Once, I went to China for a business trip. As I have said, China is full of gold. However, it
is not just that glittering material, this sentence also refers to a secret and mystery that was not
solved. I discovered it when digging for gold during my stay in the Gobi Desert. It certainly is full
of gold, but do you know what I found?”
Victor was puzzled. “An elixir for external life?” Victor guessed.
“Partly correct,” replied Marco Polo. “What I really found are the two crystals that already
existed before the world was created. They were made by the Mother of Gobi Desert.”
“So?” Victor asked.
“So,” Marco Polo replied, “they possess the ability to turn a mortal to immortal.”
“Then, what’s the nature of the Gobi Desert?” questioned Victor.
Marco Polo’s face darkened, “You have to find it out by yourself.”
Victor then asked, “What ability does the crystal-turned immortal possess?”
Marco Polo smiled, “Well, you can choose sides, evil or good. An evil immortal can destroy
the whole world, torture people and turn everyone who dies in misery into gold. A good immortal,
however, must bear the miseries of all human beings living on the Earth every day, every moment.
The condition to fulfill any of the above wishes requires two gods on the same side.”
Victor grimaced. “Then, how many crystals are left? I suppose one is.”
Nodding in agreement, Marco Polo said, “Yes, you’re right. Choose your side now.”
Victor thought of being the good side. But something, ancient and cunning, urged him to
do otherwise.
His gaze searched for it, but in vain. Then, he thought of his parents.
“I’ll be the immortal bearing pain of others.” declared Victor. Yet nothing happened. Not even
the slightest change of light. Marco Polo stared at him. “How dare you are!” he shouted, “I want
revenge! Revenge! Revenge on everyone! Why everyone is so happy while I ain’t! Why everyone
has a good wife and good children! You’ve ruined my hope!”
“How can you resist my temptation? Now die!” Marco Polo descended with his throne into
the ground, leaving Victor in the enclosed room, plus three wolves. One of them lunged at Victor,
which he evaded and gave it a deadly blow with the sword that he picked up. He charged at one of
the rest and sliced it into halves and finished the last with a stab in its heart.
The sword, now tainted with blood, fell onto the ground. Victor was terrified, why had he
killed the wolves? It was not his nature, definitely something drove him to do so.
