At the base of the tall mountains bordering the Long-Hua continent, there lived in one of the ponds of the Immortal Lotus Pavilion a common green frog. He had no recollection of how he had ever gotten into the pond – he had been there since he was a tadpole, swimming around freely without care of the world and its affairs.

Like all other frogs, he ate the insects that hummed around under the sun with his long tongue, and sang a tune to the moon when night fell. It was always summer in the Immortal Lotus Pavilion, so the frogs living there always had a splendid time whether it was night or day.

One night, as he sat on a lotus leaf to sing to the moon as usual, the frog noticed a beautiful lotus blossom in full bloom, swaying on its elegant stalk. Hopping up to it, he sang a tune to it.

“O’ beautiful flower, how glorious you are! Fine are your petals, sweet is your centre – you’re the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen!”

“What good is it?” sighed the lotus blossom. “In a few days I will wilt, and it will be the end of my beauty.”

“It is the perfection of imperfection that makes one wonderful at the moment,” remarked the frog. “To me, you have worked hard to survive and become a beautiful blossom. This is why I’ve sung to you.”

The lotus blossom sighed and said nothing more. Unseen to the frog, a youthful figure sitting at a table under a pavilion nodded in agreement before stepping away.

The next day, the frog swam up again to catch and eat some insects. As he focused his attention on one, he suddenly noticed a series of swift movements nearby. Curious, he swam towards it to get a better look.

The swift movements appeared to be caused by a young boy swinging a gleaming sword around. His robes were as white as snow and his features were clearer than morning dew. The more he swung his sword, the more the wind raised itself. The frog, who was staring at these series of movements, suddenly felt some comprehension arrive at his heart.

His awareness was immediately raised and his pupils dilated. After he realized what had happened, he jumped out of the pond in surprise. The boy lowered his sword and turned towards him.

“You,” said the boy, “Do you want to cultivate the Dao of the sword?”

The frog jumped towards him humbly.

“Can I really cultivate the Dao?” asked the frog.

“Go to the hut at the rocky ridge of the snowy mountains over there,” replied the boy, sheathing his sword and pointing at some jagged mountains far away. “It is there where you can find yourself a master and start cultivating the Dao.”

The boy flew off and the frog made his way towards the pond to bid his friends goodbye, eager and hopeful to start his journey to the rocky, snowy ridge. When the other frogs heard what he was up to, they laughed at him.

“What is the point of cultivating the immortal sword?” snorted the biggest frog there. “Here is where it’s at – look at these fat insects! It’s summer all year round. Why, I’d rather cultivate getting bigger and fatter!”

The other frogs croaked in agreement. But as the frog had already decided to visit the hut, he made his way there. It was a very difficult and long journey for a small animal like him, but he did want to try cultivating the Dao after he had managed to comprehend some of the sword techniques, so he persevered. In half a month, he caught sight of a dilapidated wooden hut by the rocky, snowy ridge.

When he entered the hut, he saw that there was nothing but a simple table at the centre of the room. On it was a pot of hot tea and a teacup, and by it sat the young boy who had been swinging his sword that day.

The boy looked up and pointed at the teacup.

“Serve your master some tea.”

Surprised at first, the frog went up to the table anyway. With much difficulty, and although the pot was hot and almost scalded his small body, he persevered and managed to fill the cup with tea. Both hopping and pushing the teacup towards the boy, the frog presented the tea to him.

“Master,” greeted the frog humbly. The boy nodded and lifted the cup to his lips. After that, he took out a small item from his sleeve and threw it at the frog.

“Swing it one hundred times today,” said the boy as he picked up the teapot and filled his empty cup again.

The frog looked at the item that had been tossed in front of him. It was a small sword retracted in a jade green scabbard. With his small and slimy forefeet he drew it from its sheath, and saw that it was as sharp, bright and gleaming as the boy’s.

It was a real sword, as sharp as life itself! The frog stared at it in wonder, but as his newfound master was far too busy drinking tea and scratching his backside like an old man, he didn’t dare ask any questions and simply went outside to start swinging the sword as told.

Swinging the sword wasn’t easy for a slimy and slippery frog. The blade slipped away from him many times and almost cut him at others, but he didn’t give up. Every day he would swing it over and over again a hundred or more times. Sometimes the boy would come and watch him, and sometimes he would sit by and drink tea while looking over the ridge.

One day, the boy sent the frog on an errand down the mountain. He was to go to the Immortal Lotus Pavilion to fetch a few scrolls and bring it back to the hut. On his way out of the archive, the frog heard a few pavilion elders gossiping in loud voices.

“I say!” said one of the elders, “Have you heard? The Immortal Sword Saint has recently taken in an apprentice!”

“That old man?” sighed another elder. “I heard he’s taken in a frog to study under him! A frog!”

“He’s so unreasonable,” grumbled yet another elder. “Why can’t he pick a better person to apprentice under him? There are heaps of people out there who are dying for a chance at apprenticing with him, but he must pick a frog and not one of them.”

All the other elders shook their heads and murmured. Upon hearing this, the frog was anxious and concerned. Fetching the scrolls on his back, he hurried back to the hut to speak to his master.

“Master, why didn’t you tell me you were the Immortal Sword Saint? All the elders at the Immortal Lotus Pavilion were complaining about you for taking me in,” said the frog, hurt and aggrieved for his master, whom he was by now very fond of. The boy folded his arms and lifted a brow at him.

“And if you knew I was the Immortal Sword Saint, what would you have done?” he asked.

The frog thought hard. He did want to cultivate the Dao of the sword, but he didn’t want to embarrass his master either. Upon seeing his disciple’s torn look, the Sword Saint sighed and tapped the teacup on the table.

“You, my disciple, why do you care so much about the opinions of people who only know how to cultivate the morals of others?” inquired the Sword Saint as he leaned back against the wooden chair. “These people will criticize the actions of others, but not spare time and energy to help those in need. They are the ones who will read scrolls for free in the pavilion, but argue over it and criticize others for their consumption and their affairs instead of being thankful that they have had anything to read at all. They will sit all day indoors and argue, but not do anything useful. Tell me, what good is it to listen to the views of folk like these?”

The frog thought about it and could find no answer.

“I don’t care what they have to say,” harrumphed the Sword Saint. “If you have enough time to worry about that sort of rubbish, go outside and swing your sword two hundred more times!”

And so the frog went outside obediently and swung his sword an additional two hundred times. When he entered the hut in the evening, his master threw a scroll at him. On it were a few markings in ink that the Sword Saint had drawn on the scroll.

“Study these and practice it,” instructed the Sword Saint.

“Master?” choked the frog, staring at the ugly red marks all over the precious scroll.

“I was the one who created these scrolls in the first place,” replied the Sword Saint lazily, pouring himself some tea again. “I’ve only asked you to bring them back so you can use them. Now go and study it.”

And so the frog went away to study his first scroll. The more he looked at it, the more he was enlightened. He could surprisingly comprehend the techniques very well, even though he had a frog’s mind, body and limbs. From there, for weeks and months and years, and without let-up and with very little rest, he cultivated the path of the immortal sword mapped out by his master on each precious scroll.

Now, there came to be that on a certain clear day of a certain year, the skies which had been bright the whole day suddenly darkened immensely and a gale began to blow up. Everyone in the neighbouring towns and cities under the mountain range rushed into their homes and shut their windows tightly. As for all the servants and elders in the Immortal Lotus Pavilion, they chose to seek shelter under the tiled roofs and stared at the dark sky with interest.

Dark skies usually marked a heavenly tribulation for cultivators of the Dao, where thunder roared and lightning struck to test the strength and perseverance of a devotee. However, this particular sky was rather odd – dark purple clouds were forming and swirling about instead of the regular black ones, and the lightning that flashed was a gleaming white gold!

“It’s a sacred beast tribulation!” exclaimed one of the elders all of a sudden. “Why, I’ve only seen this once when I was a little boy! That was hundreds of years ago. What sort of divine beast could it be ascending to immortality?”

The thunder and lightning roared and crashed, stronger and more terrifying than any of the heavenly tribulations that had occurred for men. After what seemed like an eternity, the stormed died down. Curious, the elders ascended the mountains to take a look. When they arrived, they saw that from the scorched earth a glimmer of light had risen from the ashes.

The body of a frog, completely shrouded in radiant gold, shone through the sky. The purple clouds that had initially gathered swirled around it, covering it from sight. After a while, they parted, and out of mist emerged a tall and handsome young man with a sword on his side and intelligent eyes, bright like starlight and clad in jade green. His cultivation base was extremely high, overshadowing all of those who were with him at the mountaintop sans one.

“Not bad!” said the Sword Saint. “As expected of my disciple!”

The elders gasped – if this was the Immortal Sword Saint’s disciple, then it was a mere frog, not some holy beast that had ascended!

Feeling as if they had all been slapped in the face, the elders descended down the mountains quietly. Nobody dared to talk about the frog who had cultivated the Dao of the sword to a much higher realm than they did!

As for the frog, after assuming an immortal cultivator’s form, he chose to stay at the hut to look after and accompany his master to drink tea. Once in a while the two would visit the Immortal Lotus Pavilion, and how they would grin when they saw the elders hide behind a pillar!