The Musafir

Looking for the Wind, Son of Man?

MANTINGAN ENTER the forest. That was all he could do now to search for the whereabouts of Grandma Genih. He wished he could hear the metal clink. One twang alone, it was enough to know of its existence.

But apparently, what came was more than hope. The mantan did not know this was good or bad, but he could not reveal that his ears heard dozens of metal clinks in the blink of an eye.

Dozens of metal tinkles, if heard by ordinary humans who are not warriors, only sounded as one loud thump. But to a warrior like Mantingan, the twang was heard dozens of times. It was dozens of times, but it happened so quickly that it seemed as if it only sounded a twang.

The mantan moved quickly tracing the sound waves from the clang with sharp hearing. His extremely fast movements made himself quick to the place where the clang rang.

It is in a high evidence of non-flying but sandy, the thickest shadows seen clashing with each other until the sparks are created and the clanking of the sword shrill away. The mantel watched the twists of the shadow from below, hiding behind a tree trunk.

From what Mantingan saw, the greatness of the shadow was created because of two high warriors who pitted each other against power. The mantan can see as a slow movement, the result of which he can recognize one of them: Genih's grandmother. There was no mistaking the old woman who used to look frail and helpless, but was now able to fight off her opponent's speed and agility.

While the one who was the opponent of Granny Genih looked like an old man, with all-grey clothes that were all shabby as well. His hair and beard were as white as never shaved, unkempt.

The mantan is still watching. He had no intention of interfering before the cause of things being light. In the rules in the martial world, it is cowardly to gang up on a swordsman who is serving a challenge without permission. So Mantingan just silence first, after all the two opponents look balanced with each other.

A very fast fight if seen by ordinary humans, is seen as a fight whose speed is mediocre when seen by Mantingan.

The longer, Grandma Genih the more master the fight. The old man who was Grandma Genih's opponent looked overwhelmed, his attack turned into a defense, even his defense was a mess.

Both Granny Genih and Mantingan can see a huge defensive gap. Therefore, the fight was quickly settled after Grandma Genih sent a palm strike right on her opponent's chest. The white-bearded old man died instantly.

The mantan nodded slowly, feeling absolutely nothing to worry about. Just as he wanted to turn around leaving the place, the voice of Grandma Genih suddenly sounded beside him. The surprised mantan did not play as he turned around and found Grandma Genih already standing right beside him, even more shocked after hearing Grandma Genih greet him.

“Walk for the wind, Son Man?” Genih's grandmother smiled warmly at him, as if forgetting the murder he just committed.

Mantengan misbehavior. He wanted to lie, but that was the same as lying. Wanting to also just smile, but it would not make the situation better.

So Mantingan chose to admit it. “Grandma, North River Angel said to have heard the clinking of the sword after Grandma left. She was worried that Grandma was in danger, so I asked her to come here. But it seems like there is nothing I need to worry about anymore.”

“Grandma, no good saying like that.”

“Son Man, let's walk home while I tell you a story. Would you listen to him?”

The mantel smiled warmly. “Of course, Granny.”

They walked side by side, there was no one behind and no one in front. Granny Genih began to tell stories, with language that just flowed like a waterfall that empties into the lake. Become a bunch of stories that Mantingan will remember well in the lake of his mind.

“I've been a swordsman for a long time, Son of Man. There are not many souls floating due to my tread style. In the martial world, I was known as the Woman of Death. It is a slightly market name, but people will immediately shut up after hearing the name.

“Not something to brag about, Son. I instead feel sad to be known as the Woman of Death who is always associated with cold-blooded killers. Forty years in the martial world, I have never had a defeat. That's what I want: defeat. With defeat, it means that I die, which means that I will not kill anyone again.

“But in fact, I have never suffered a defeat. I did not die until now. That's so sad, Son of Man. Too many sins I carry on my back.”

The slow whistling wind carried the old leaves that had fallen from the tree, not infrequently also dropped young leaves on the stalk. The conversation still continued with Mantingan did not interrupt at all until the story of Grandma Genih was finished.

“Four years have I resigned from the martial world, but no one accepted my resignation. Many warriors have a vengeful fire on me, so many are still looking for me today.”

Grandma stopped talking. From the look on his face, it can be seen he can not continue the story anymore. Or so it was, that kept him sad. It is like this short life, where regrets always come in old age.

“I know a little, Grandma. Killing is not fun.” Mantingan took a long breath.

Grandma Genih showed a warm smile to Mantingan, although it appeared in her smile it still contained deep sadness. “Children of Man don't joke, I've heard your lunge in the martial world. People say you very rarely kill other warriors, and only kill when it is very urgent. Son of Man, you helped a lot of that town, didn't you?”

Mantingan who heard that so smiled awkwardly, his name turned out to be famous to the corners of the forest like this. Either it will be good or bad. “No, Grandma, I only helped one city.”

“Directly you are only helping one city, but indirectly you have helped dozens of cities and thousands of other innocent people.” Grandma Genih chuckled softly. “Son Man, you've chosen the right path. Unlike me who was late realizing I had strayed so far.”