Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

“You have courage,” Zhang Qiliang didn’t deny, but that didn’t stop him from waving his hand again: “But you’re eating grass.”

The crowd retreated dejectedly.

Time passed slowly.

Half an hour isn't a long window, but it's enough for those who really want to come.

A gray-green pickup truck came rushing from the south, bouncing violently on the rubble road of the ruins. There were three or four people standing in the back. Before the truck had even come to a complete stop, someone jumped out, slipped on the broken bricks, and staggered a couple of steps before regaining his balance. He didn't even bother to brush the dust off his knees before running towards the building.

Someone rode a motorcycle crookedly out of the alley, the person on the back still clutching half a half-eaten pancake in their hand, not having time to swallow what was in their mouth, and jumped off the motorcycle and rushed in.

Further away, some people came running, running all the way from the other side of the street. When they got there, they were bent over, panting for a long time, sweat dripping down their foreheads and into their beards, but they didn't bother to wipe it away.

The number of people around the gap in the building increased to 85.

"Some of the things that should be coming are still too far away. It seems I still need to help them out." After the countdown on his phone finished, Zhang Qiliang closed it.

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhang Qiliang's figure vanished.

Before the crowd could utter a sound, a string of black dots appeared on the northern horizon.

The black dots rapidly enlarged, revealing three pickup trucks, two motorcycles, and seven or eight figures gliding through the air. All the vehicles and aerial acrobats landed steadily at the same instant, less than five steps in front of the gap between the buildings.

Zhang Qiliang's figure reappeared in the same spot, but disappeared again after less than half a second.

This time it was from another direction; several more figures appeared in front of the Parliament building.

And so, from one direction to another, in less than a minute, more than fifty people had gathered near the gap.

Most of those who were brought in had calm and composed expressions.

Some of them wore neat robes with their collars tied perfectly; others had cloaks draped over their shoulders, freshly brought from inside the house, their folds clearly visible; several people clutched scriptures in their hands, their spines polished smooth by years of use; and two others exchanged glances and nodded to each other after landing, as if they had known all along that they would meet in this place today.

The other group of people did not have this composure.

When Zhang Qiliang returned for the last time, he left the last twenty-odd people in front of the building.

Several of them, wearing pajamas and barefoot, stepped on the gravel and jumped as they were burned.

One of the fat men had his pajamas buttoned up incorrectly, with half of the hem tucked into his waistband and the other half hanging out. The flesh on his face was still trembling slightly from the sudden shift.

There was also a tall, thin man whose face was so pale it was unrecognizable. His cheekbones were high and prominent, clearly indicating that he had lived in a dark place for too long. When the sunlight shone on his face, he shielded his eyes with his hand, raising his arm very slowly, as if he had become rusty at even this simple action.

Their expressions were quite uniform: pupils dilated, lips dry, some unconsciously clutching the collar of their pajamas, others looking at the dense crowd of people and the mountains of guns piled up on the ruins, their facial muscles twitching slightly.

Clearly, the last gentlemen to arrive were not given any notice or prepared at all; they were simply dragged out from a bed in a basement, a sofa in a secret room, or some other unknown hiding place.

“167,” Zhang Qiliang clapped his hands and gestured with his chin toward the building. “All done. Let’s go.”

167 people filed in.

The last person went in.

Zhang Qiliang gently raised his hand and drew a hand gesture.

As if some kind of constraint or partition had disappeared, a few brief seconds of silence passed, and then suddenly a variety of place names, personal names, scriptures, and shouts, some filled with courage and others with despair, erupted within the building.

Then came all sorts of cruel voices.

The sounds mingled together, pouring out of every window on every floor of the building and into the Gaza breeze.

Outside the building, thousands of people stood quietly.

No one cheered.

No one speaks.

Some people closed their eyes, some clenched their fists, and some simply watched and listened, their faces displaying every emotion that humans could express.

Twenty-three minutes later, the sound gradually disappeared.

Zhang Qiliang then drew a hand gesture, and all the doors and windows of the building opened.

Thirty-one people walked out, nine people crawled out, three people were helped out, and five people were carried out.

The victor has emerged.

The crowd parted to make way for the building entrance.

Two people helped Yusuf walk over. One of his legs could no longer bear weight, and with each step, his knee would turn outward, but he still managed to walk to Zhang Qiliang on his own.

Yusuf's headscarf had been knocked off at some point, and a purplish-blue bump was swollen on his forehead. His left eye was squinted into a slit, and there was half-dried blood around the eye socket. He raised his right eye, which was still open, and looked at Zhang Qiliang.

“Messenger,” he said, “we have survived… thank you for giving us this opportunity… Gaza can never repay your kindness.”

“You’ve won,” Zhang Qiliang said. “According to the rules, you can now state your terms.”

"What are the conditions?" Yusuf's voice was very soft, not with the excitement of revenge, but more like someone who was extremely tired and whose brain had not yet caught up with reality.

“I don’t know,” Zhang Qiliang shook his head, “It depends on what you like.”

Do you want us to like it?

These four words fell into the crowd like a spark landing on a haystack.

Before Yusuf could even speak, people around him were already raising their arms and shouting "Kill all the Jewish pigs!", some were yelling "Get out of Jerusalem!", some were shouting "Give Haifa back to us!", some were yelling "Demolish all settlements!", and some were even crying out, "Let them taste what it's like to be without water!"

The sounds came from all directions at the same time. Some people jumped onto the pile of rubble while shouting, while others squeezed towards the building while shouting.

Yusuf did not shout.

After all, he often managed to get a piece of meat, so Yusuf dared not be so optimistic. He turned around, glanced at the brothers who were being helped, carried, and slung out behind him, and turned back: "Messenger... could you give us some guidance?"

"No." Zhang Qiliang shook his head decisively.

Yusuf remained silent for two seconds.

The surrounding chants surged one after another, but Yusuf, standing in the center of the uproar, remained remarkably quiet.

What if they don't agree to our terms?

Zhang Qiliang's gaze swept lightly over the parliament building.

"Then let's talk again."

After saying that, Zhang Qiliang leaped into the air.

"Go in and save them!" Yusuf said with difficulty, turning around and pointing to the building.

It could be three seconds, or it could be five seconds later.

“Save them too.”

167 Declaration of Victory in the Duel

Half an hour after Zhang Qiliang left, Gaza did not celebrate.

Yusuf was helped to sit on a broken precast concrete slab. Someone handed him a bottle of water, which he took a sip of and looked up at the Parliament building.

The building's doors and windows were still open, and one could vaguely hear groans, cries, and someone repeating something in Hebrew.

“The living person inside,” Yusuf put down the water bottle and said to the person next to him, “take a picture.”

A dozen minutes later, dozens of videos were uploaded to major platforms around the world.

The Gaza accounts that usually only show gray checkmarks indicating failed submissions are all online today.

There was no blood in the scene.

The bloodstains on the ground had been hastily wiped away. The injured person lay in the lobby on the first floor of the building, with curtains and sofa covers torn down from the office under him.

Someone had a bandage wrapped around their forehead. The bandage was clean, and although it wasn't professionally wrapped, it was tight and neat.

Some people had their arms simply braced with wooden boards removed from the armrests of parliamentary seats.

An elderly man in a suit leaned against the wall, his face bearing several abrasions that had been treated with iodine. Next to him squatted a young man from Gaza, who was using scissors to carefully cut open the blood-clotted cuff of the man's sleeve.

Another middle-aged man lay on the ground with his legs bent at an unnatural angle, a roll of gauze in his mouth, which someone had stuffed in to prevent him from biting his tongue.

The image pans across his face; sweat plasters his hair to his forehead, his eyes are open, staring at the ceiling, his breathing rapid but not erratic.

No one yelled at the camera, no one turned the injured over to show their wounds, and no one stuffed flags into the frame.

At the end of each of the dozen or so videos is the same brief statement.

A young man from Gaza, his face still bearing the bloodstains from helping the wounded, said to the camera, "We hope the other side can take these injured people away as soon as possible, so as not to add to the already difficult medical conditions in Gaza. It would be best if the transfer were arranged by a third party such as the United Nations, Dali, Qatar, or Egypt."

There were no exchange lists, no political manifestos, no "if you don't do this, we will do that," and not even anger.

Less than 20 minutes after the video was released, the UN coordinator in Jerusalem held an emergency press conference, announcing that he was negotiating with Da Yang, Egypt and Qatar for a transfer route, and that the first batch of ambulances was expected to pass through the Rafah border crossing within two hours.

The International Committee of the Red Cross confirmed that Gaza had contacted them and that all the injured were receiving "basic humanitarian care."

An hour later, Gaza formally presented their demands.

Or rather, a declaration of victory in the duel.

A statement signed by Yusuf, along with several other leaders, elders, and commanders who had just emerged from the building, was released simultaneously in Arabic, English, and Hebrew.

The full statement is as follows:

"Based on the current situation, we put forward the following demands regarding the urgent humanitarian crisis:"

"I. Regarding border crossings."

We hope that all border crossings to Gaza, including Rafah, Erez, and Kerem Shalom, will be opened as soon as possible.

We hope that the scope of humanitarian goods access should cover food, drinking water, medical supplies, fuel, building materials, and power generation equipment.

We hope that personnel from organizations such as the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Near East (UNRWA), the World Food Programme (WFP), the World Health Organization (WHO), and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) will be granted long-term, sustainable travel permits, allowing their activities to be unaffected by the establishment of military restricted zones.

We hope that the oversight body will be jointly composed of the United Nations, Da Yang, Egypt, and Qatar, and that the oversight details will be determined through consultation between the four parties and Gaza.

The Gaza side assured that it would accept third-party monitoring at the border crossing to ensure that incoming goods do not contain weapons, ammunition, or equipment that could be used for military purposes.

"II. Regarding the ceasefire."

We hope that Israel will cease its military operations in Gaza as soon as possible, including but not limited to airstrikes, artillery fire, drone attacks, the entry of ground troops, and the naval blockade of the Gaza coastline.

We hope...

"III. Regarding the Reconstruction Fund."

We hope that the UN Security Council will establish a special fund for humanitarian reconstruction in Gaza.

We hope...

"IV. On fishing rights and airspace."

We hope that Israel will lift restrictions on Gaza fishermen fishing at sea, allowing them to operate freely within 20 nautical miles of the coast.

We hope...

Then, the statement ended.

There was no mention of territory, Jerusalem, settlements, sovereignty, or prisoner exchange.

None of these points can be interpreted as political blackmail.

Every word is related to water, electricity, hospital, school, fishing boat, and flour.

Every word is something that mothers in Gaza murmured while queuing for water, something that children discarded while picking up chalk from the ruins of bombed schools, something that fishermen thought about while casting their nets within a few nautical miles of the restricted area and gazing at the distant horizon, something they never had.

Following the release of the statement, initial interpretations from media outlets around the world and UN agencies appeared on screens almost simultaneously.

The BBC headline read: "The victors in Gaza have put forward a list of demands that have no political agenda."

Al Jazeera commentator: "They didn't even mention Jerusalem."

The Geneva Conflict Observatory produced a simplified analysis within minutes: "This is a list of purely humanitarian claims, each of which has a corresponding legal basis in the Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols. It does not represent any sovereignty claim, does not involve any territorial changes, and does not contain any religious or political symbols. The figure of twenty nautical miles for fishing rights in the list invokes the framework of the Oslo Accords and is essentially a demand to restore the rights of an agreement that was signed long ago but has never been fully implemented."

Two hours after the statement was released, Israel responded.

Israel’s interim cabinet—an emergency formation of several deputy ministers who were not qualified to sit in the Knesset and a very small number of alternate leaders—held a press conference in Tel Aviv.

The interim prime minister stood at the podium for nearly ten seconds before speaking. His tie was not tied, his shirt collar was loose, and his expression did not resemble that of a politician about to declare a tough stance, but rather that of a survivor who had just been pulled from the ruins.

He said four things.

First, Israel accepted all four humanitarian demands made by Gaza, and the border crossings will be opened within 48 hours, coordinated and monitored by the United Nations, Dali, Egypt, and Qatar.

The Israel Defense Forces will cease all military operations in Gaza effective immediately.

Second, Israel has initiated a screening process for all Palestinian women and minors currently detained.

The interim prime minister used the term "screening" rather than "interrogation," saying that many of these people were brought back as security threats during military operations, and that this standard now needs to be re-examined.

The screening process was overseen by the Ministry of Justice, with the International Committee of the Red Cross participating throughout. Each batch was released after screening was completed.