Simply Trading

Most of these, who were in the middle of sweeping the floor indoors, or raking up dead leaves in the courtyard and the paved walkways, simply gave the newcomers a noncommittal glance. Then they turned back to their own tasks, and ignored them thereafter.

There were some among these that looked a little better-fed than others. And there were some who were taller, and some shorter. There was even one who was missing an arm, and dealing with his task with only his remaining one!

But it was not difficult to see that there was one quality that all of those in the grey robes had. And which matched the newcomers completely:

They were all young men!

The scarred one, who leading the bunch, gave out a snort at that, and led the group past all of the others, heading directly into the hall itself. It was only after he stepped inside, that he began to speak to the still silent group.

"You lot have managed to stay on your knees for a whole day and night, which showed your persistence. That is why you were accepted. After all, the whole point of learning martial arts is to overcome the limits of your body. If you didn"t have the persistence to do that now, to show that you had it, then what would be the point of accepting you?"

The one with the scar stopped walking then, and turned around to face the fifteen, who looked completely exhausted by their trials so far. And nodded, when he saw that they still had their wits about them. Some were looking past him, to study the interior decor of the hall itself. While others seemed to look a little surprised by his words. Yet others, like one of the shorter ones in a fine blue cotton shirt, was nodding at him, as though agreeing with his words.

But sooner or later, all of their eyes soon focused on the long table that was set at the scarred man"s back. And the bowls that were set on the same.

"I will not waste your time with too many words now. Go to the table and drink. Someone will come in, and question you later. Then you will be given your Outer School uniform, and shown where the Dining Hall is. There is where you will be having your meals from now on.

"After that, you will be brought to where you will be working for the next year, and lastly, a dormitory where you will be sleeping. The ones who will be questioning you will explain more, when they speak to you."

Then, for the first time since the fifteen boys met him, the scarred man smiled, and nodded his head at them. "For what it is worth, welcome to the Heaven Sword Martial Arts School!"

*

"You don"t seem to have made any friends in there."

The one who spoke was an older man, with grey hair and a grey beard. And the robe that he was wearing was decorated with thin black swirls at that collar. His face was covered with fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which remained bright and alert as they looked at the boy in front of him.

The same fellow in the blue cotton shirt.

Both of them were seated in a small room adjacent to the hall where the boy was supplied with three bowls of water, which he drank carefully. And a single bun, which was hardly enough to fill his belly. He was not the first to be called in there. There were others who disappeared as soon as they were called away to be questioned. So he was not to bothered when it was his turn.

The two of them were seated, cross-legged, on worn prayer mats so that they faced each other. And could look right into each other"s eyes.

The boy seemed to wait for a moment, before he realized that the old man was waiting for him to answer his seemingly innocent remark. It seemed that it was a question too, of a sort. That was when he nodded at his questioner, and waved a hand towards the hall outside.

"We are all here to join the School. And all of us have our own reasons for doing so. Mine has nothing to do with making friends."

"Oh? Then why are you here?"

The boy looked at the old man then, and met his eyes without hesitation. Indeed, there was a certain obstinate air about him then, as he replied:

"I came to learn what I can, to learn the sword."

The old man smiled, and nodded back at him. "That is no doubt true. But you are in the Outer School now, and we do not focus on training, as they do in the Inner School. So what you will end up learning will only be the basics.

"Besides that, you will spend most of your days at ch.o.r.es that would take up a good amount of your time. You will only be left with an hour or two, each day, to train yourself in the sword. Didn"t they tell you this?"

"They did."

The old man shook his head, and gestured at himself, even as he asked his next question. "Do you know how old I am?"

"No, I do not."

"Make a guess."

The boy took his time, looking the old man over from the tip of his topknot to the wrinkled hands that he had laid on his knees. "You must be at least fifty, I think."

"Not even close. I am seventy-eight years old this year. But you are young, so it is excusable. If others did it, I would think that they were flattering me on my good looks."

The old man grinned, as if he had made a joke. Then he sighed, and shook his head, when it was clear that the young man was not going to laugh.

"I am telling you this because I had joined the School with very much the same intentions as you have. To learn the sword. And I am still not content that I have made an achievement that satisfies me. Or my pride.

"Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

The boy did not hesitate. "That there is no end to learning. And that there is definitely no end of learning when it comes to the sword."

The old man"s eyes went wide, and he gave out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. Then he seemed to get himself back under control. Although he was grinning at the boy.

"That is the best answer to that question that I have heard so far.

"I am decided. Come with me! I will bring you to the Medicine Gardens."

* * *