董生，徐州人。好擊劍，每慷慨自負。偶於途中遇一客，跨蹇同行。與之語，談吐豪邁。詰其姓字，云：「遼陽佟姓。」問：「何往？」曰：「余出門二十年，適自海外歸耳。」董曰：「君遨遊四海，閱人綦多，曾見異人否？佟曰：「異人何等？」董乃自述所好，恨不得異人之傳。佟曰：「異人何地無之，要必忠臣孝子，始得傳其術也。」董又毅然自許；即出佩劍，彈之而歌；又斬路側小樹，以矜其利。佟掀髯微笑，因便借觀。董授之。展玩一過，曰：「此甲鐵所鑄，為汗臭所蒸，最為下品。僕雖未聞劍術，然有一劍，頗可用。」遂於衣底出短刃尺許，以削董劍，脆如瓜瓠，應手斜斷，如馬蹄。董駭極，亦請過手，再三拂拭而後返之。邀佟至家，堅留信宿。叩以劍法，謝不知。董按膝雄談，惟敬聽而已。更既深，忽聞隔院紛拏。隔院為生父居，心驚疑。近壁凝聽，但聞人作怒聲曰：「教汝子速出即刑，便赦汝！」少頃，似加搒掠，呻吟不絕者，真其父也。生捉戈欲往。佟止之曰：「此去恐無生理，宜審萬全。」生皇然請教。佟曰：「盜坐名相索，必將甘心焉。君無他骨肉，宜囑後事於妻子；我啟戶，為君警廝僕。」生諾，入告其妻。妻牽衣泣。生壯念頓消，遂共登樓上，尋弓覓矢，以備盜攻。倉皇未已，聞佟在樓簷上笑曰：「賊幸去矣。」燭之已杳。逡巡出，則見翁赴鄰飲，籠燭方歸；惟庭前多編菅遺灰焉。乃知佟異人也。
董生，徐州人。好击剑，每慷慨自负。偶于途中遇一客，跨蹇同行。与之语，谈吐豪迈。诘其姓字，云：「辽阳佟姓。」问：「何往？」曰：「余出门二十年，适自海外归耳。」董曰：「君遨游四海，阅人綦多，曾见异人否？佟曰：「异人何等？」董乃自述所好，恨不得异人之传。佟曰：「异人何地无之，要必忠臣孝子，始得传其术也。」董又毅然自许；即出佩剑，弹之而歌；又斩路侧小树，以矜其利。佟掀髯微笑，因便借观。董授之。展玩一过，曰：「此甲铁所铸，为汗臭所蒸，最为下品。仆虽未闻剑术，然有一剑，颇可用。」遂于衣底出短刃尺许，以削董剑，脆如瓜瓠，应手斜断，如马蹄。董骇极，亦请过手，再三拂拭而后返之。邀佟至家，坚留信宿。叩以剑法，谢不知。董按膝雄谈，惟敬听而已。更既深，忽闻隔院纷拏。隔院为生父居，心惊疑。近壁凝听，但闻人作怒声曰：「教汝子速出即刑，便赦汝！」少顷，似加搒掠，呻吟不绝者，真其父也。生捉戈欲往。佟止之曰：「此去恐无生理，宜审万全。」生皇然请教。佟曰：「盗坐名相索，必将甘心焉。君无他骨肉，宜嘱后事于妻子；我启户，为君警厮仆。」生诺，入告其妻。妻牵衣泣。生壮念顿消，遂共登楼上，寻弓觅矢，以备盗攻。仓皇未已，闻佟在楼檐上笑曰：「贼幸去矣。」烛之已杳。逡巡出，则见翁赴邻饮，笼烛方归；惟庭前多编菅遗灰焉。乃知佟异人也。
Dong was a scholar of Xuzhou. He loved swordplay, and was forever holding forth with fiery pride in himself. One day on the road he fell in with a stranger riding a donkey, and they went on together. When Dong talked with him, his speech was bold and large. Dong asked his name. “Tong,” he said, “of Liaoyang.” “Where are you going?” “I have been away from home twenty years. I have only just come back from beyond the seas.” “You have roamed the four seas,” said Dong, “and seen a great many men. Have you ever met an extraordinary man?” “What sort of extraordinary man?” said Tong. Dong told him of his passion, and how he longed to have the art of some extraordinary master handed down to him. “Where are there not extraordinary men?” said Tong. “But only a loyal subject or a filial son can be taught their art.” Dong declared firmly that he was such a man. At once he drew the sword at his belt, flicked it with his finger, and sang; then he cut down a small tree by the roadside to show off its edge. Tong lifted his beard and smiled faintly, and asked to look at it. Dong handed it over. Tong turned it over once and said, “This is cast from armour iron and steeped in sweat and stink. It is the lowest grade there is. I know nothing of swordsmanship, but I do have a sword that is of some use.” From under his clothes he brought out a short blade about a foot long and pared at Dong’s sword. It was as brittle as a melon or a gourd: it parted at a slant under his hand, like a horse’s hoof. Dong was astounded. He asked to handle the blade too, and wiped it again and again before handing it back. He invited Tong home and insisted he stay two nights. When he asked about the art of the sword, Tong declined, saying he knew nothing of it. Dong sat with his hands on his knees and talked grandly; Tong only listened respectfully. Late in the night there was suddenly an uproar in the next courtyard. The next courtyard was where Dong’s father lived. Alarmed, Dong put his ear to the wall and listened hard. He heard someone say angrily, “Tell your son to come out at once and take his punishment, and we’ll spare you!” A moment later they seemed to be beating him, and the one moaning without end was truly his father. Dong seized a halberd and was about to go. Tong stopped him. “If you go now, I fear you won’t come out alive. You should make sure of everything first.” Dong, in a panic, asked what to do. “The robbers are asking for you by name,” said Tong. “They will not rest until they have you. You have no other kin. You should leave your last wishes with your wife and children. I will open the door and rouse your servants for you.” Dong agreed, and went in to tell his wife. His wife clung to his clothes and wept. His bold resolve melted away at once. Together they climbed to the upper storey and hunted for bows and arrows, to hold off the robbers when they attacked. They were still scrambling when they heard Tong laughing up on the eaves: “Luckily, the thieves have gone.” They held up a candle, but he had vanished. Dong ventured out warily, and found his father just coming home with his lantern from drinking at a neighbour’s. All that was left in front of the courtyard was a scatter of ash from plaited rushes. Then Dong knew that Tong was an extraordinary man.