Chapter 70: You’re Screwing With Me, Right?
Although this young man had no spirit in his eyes, he had a very well-shaped body, his height roughly 180 centimeters. He wore an ordinary gray short-sleeved shirt with a pair of jeans.
His spiritless eyes stared at Roland for a while, and then he walked over. Separated by the low red brick perimeter wall, he asked in a weak voice, “Friend, what are you doing here?”
“Just taking a look.” Roland shifted his gaze away from the young man. He stared at the two students sparring on the field and said unhurriedly, “I heard that this place was a miaodao club, so I came over to see if it was real.”
The young man grinned impassively, as if he were smiling without the intention of doing so. “Feel free to look around.”
The two sparring students held two long and curved wooden sabers, which indeed looked very similar to the tachi[1] of Wa[2], and the sequence of movements and attacks between the two were quite similar to kendo[3] at first glance.
No wonder people thought that miaodao techniques drew from kendo.
After watching the two spar for a while, Roland was certain that this miaodao club was indeed genuine.
After all, he had trained in boxing for two months—although he wouldn’t dare claim to be very strong, only slightly more impressive than a coach who has been teaching for over ten years, his discernment was also improved during this time.
One who trained in boxing naturally had to learn how to supply strength and withdraw strength, basic concepts that also existed in swordsmanship.
The strength when brandishing the saber and the skillfulness when sheathing the saber, Roland could discern these things from the sparring students—they certainly had established some foundation.
After watching for a while, Roland asked the young man, “Fellow brother, where’s the boss and coach for this miaodao club?”
“I’m both.” The young man still had a dispirited and apathetic expression. He sized up Roland and said, “You seem to have established some foundation in martial arts.”
“Yes, I trained in boxing for two months!”
“Two months?” The young man finally showed a minute change in his expression, as if a light feather landed on the surface of a tranquil lake, setting off a light ripple.
“Yes.” Roland nodded.
“I see…”
The young man weakly mumbled a few words, and then suddenly his right hand cut diagonally upward, the tip of his palm seemingly about to jab Roland’s ribs.
On his part, Roland reacted extremely quickly at this moment. He titled his upper body backward as his knees instinctively came up and charged toward the young man’s abdomen.
However, all of a sudden, he stopped his movements.
Because he saw that the young man’s karate chop was only a feint that stopped halfway. It was merely a test, one without any ill intent.
At this very moment, their movements both seemed somewhat strange. The young man was in a half-horse stance, with his right hand in a posture of that of an upward strike with a longsword, while Roland had tilted his body backward. It was as if time had stopped.
After about two seconds, the two of them simultaneously stood straight and smiled awkwardly at each other.
The young man no longer had that apathetic expression he had earlier; his eyes had a somewhat excited expression in them. “It seems you’ve done well in your training. Want to come inside and spar?”
“Like I said, I’m a boxer, you’re a swordsman, I couldn’t possibly be a match for you.” Roland shook his head helplessly.
“I guess.” The young man sighed in disappointment, his expression back to that corpse-like lifelessness.
“Actually, I’ve come to learn miaodao techniques.” Roland looked at the young man and said with a light smile, “It seems the teaching here is quite orthodox—how much is the tuition?”
“Thirty thousand!”
“How much!?” Roland suspected that he’d heard wrong.
“Thirty thousand.” The young man yawned and continued, “Guaranteed to teach you until you’ve mastered it. If you’re stupid and can’t master it in a short amount of time, then I’ll teach you until you’ve mastered it. But you don’t look like a fool.”
Roland felt his head ache. “That number of yours is too outrageous. And the environment you have here doesn’t seem that good either. It feels lacking in class—it’s not worth that much money.”
As he said this, he pointed at the shed supported by two layers of galvanized iron sheets. This sort of place appeared very much like a skating rink inside a small town twenty years ago.
In reality, what he guessed was actually right. Over ten years ago, this place was indeed a skating rink. However, once Internet cafes started to appear, the skating rink couldn’t make a profit. This resulted in its abandonment, and then a few years prior, the young man opposite him took it over at an extremely low price.
The young man said indifferently, “You guys pay a fee to learn swordsmanship, not to enjoy the setting, so what does it matter if the environment is good or not? This place is actually better for training in the hottest summer and the coldest winter—it toughens one’s willpower.”
“You can’t make it any cheaper?” Roland asked.
“No!” The young man almost had no change in his expression.
But the more that this was so, the more it showed his determination—the words he said were almost impossible to argue.
Roland looked at the four students who were training under the large shed and asked, “Did they already pay thirty thousand?”
Thirty thousand was a figure that wasn’t much at all for rich people. Sometimes they could throw away several times this number in a night to entertain guests.
However, for a normal person like Roland, this amount was quite a lot. Even if he had nearly 300,000 yuan in his bank account, he still felt that it was a little expensive.
He saw that the four students, who were training swordsmanship under the large shed, didn’t appear to be very rich, so he suspected that the boss and coach before him was trying to scam a little bit of money.
“They’re my relatives, of course it’s free for them,” the young man said matter-of-factly, and at the same time, he took out a wrinkled and unsealed pack of Hongmei[4] cigarettes and handed one over, asking, “Want a smoke?”
“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” Roland waved his hand. So it turned out they were the young man’s relatives—Roland had no way of taking this argument further.
The young man lit a cigarette for himself, took a puff, and blew out a smoke ring. “It’s good that you don’t smoke. One who trains martial arts shouldn’t smoke, it’s bad for the lungs. If the lungs are unwell, the vital energies won’t be able to rise. If one is deficient in vital energies, not to mention training martial arts, it would be good enough if one’s normal livelihood wasn’t affected.”
With a strange expression, Roland stared at the cigarette in the young man’s hands, the expression in his eyes piercing.
“You mean me?” The young man dangled the cigarette in his hand and spoke in that same emotionless tone. “I’m just keeping it in my mouth, not breathing it in the lungs.”
Then what’s the point of smoking like that? Roland was somewhat confused, but he didn’t want to understand why the young man formed such an eccentricity. He thought for a while and asked, “Then how long have you been operating here for and how many students have you recruited? Not including your relatives.”
“Over half a year, and not a single student from the outside.” The young man seemed to be quite frank.
Roland frowned even more, but just when he was about to speak, his phone rang.
He made a gesture toward the young man to excuse himself. He walked to the side and picked up the call.
It was a call from Schuck. “The official website came out with a new announcement, did you read it yet?”
“I’ve got something to deal with, I didn’t have time to pay attention to the official website.”
“You better look at it now, it’s related to you.”
With that said, Schuck hung up the call.
Roland remembered that the head planner had said that there would be a new announcement soon. Could it be because he was the one who posted about the bug feedback that the announcement mentioned him?
However, Schuck had a relatively calm personality, he wouldn’t be the type to make a fuss because of a small matter like this.
Roland opened the browser on his phone and went on the game’s official web page. As expected, there was a new announcement.
After clicking it, he slapped himself on the forehead, speechless.
“Game planner, you’re screwing with me, right!?”
[1] Japanese sword worn by samurais
[2] Ancient name for Japan, could be considered derogatory
[3] Japanese martial art that uses bamboo swords
[4] Means red plum, cheap cigarette brand in China
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