Although this young man's eyes were lifeless, his body looked well-proportioned, and he was about 1.8 meters tall. He wore a very ordinary gray short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans.
He stared at Roland for a while with his soulless eyes. Then, he walked over and asked in a weak voice, "Friend, what are you doing here?"
"Taking a look." Roland moved his gaze away from the young man and stared at the two students sparring in the field. He said slowly, "I heard this is a miaodao club, so I came to see if it's true."
The young man grinned emotionlessly. He seemed to be smiling, but he didn't have any intention of smiling. "Feel free to look."
The two students who were practicing with each other were holding long and curved wooden swords, which indeed looked like the katana of Nihon. At first glance, their attacking movements and routines were also very similar to the kendo of Nihon.
No wonder some people thought that miaodao techniques borrowed from Nippon kendo.
After watching the two sparring for a while, Roland dared to conclude that this miaodao club was indeed something.
After all, he had been practicing boxing for two months. He didn't dare to say that he was very strong, only a little better than an instructor who had been practicing for more than ten years, and his eyesight had also been honed.
To practice boxing, one naturally had to learn how to exert force and withdraw force, and these basic concepts also existed in swordsmanship.
The force when swinging the sword and the dexterity when withdrawing the sword — Roland could now also see that the two sparring students did indeed have some foundation.
After watching for a while, Roland asked the young man, "Where are the owner and instructor of this miaodao club, brother?"
"It's me." The young man's expression was still that weak and indifferent. He sized up Roland for a while and said, "You seem to have some foundation."
"Yes, I've been practicing boxing for two months!"
"Two months?" The young man's expression finally changed a little, like a light feather falling on the surface of a calm lake, setting off ripples.
"Yes." Roland nodded.
"Is that so …"
The young man mumbled weakly, then suddenly cut his right hand diagonally upward from below, the tip of his palm seemingly about to poke at Roland's ribs.
Roland reacted extremely quickly at this moment, leaning his upper body back and subconsciously raising his knee, rushing toward his opponent's abdomen.
All of a sudden, he stopped moving.
Because he saw that the young man's hand knife was just a feint, and he stopped halfway. It was just a simple test, without any malicious intent.
At this time, both of their movements were a little strange. The young man was half-squatting and his right hand was like a longsword, while Roland leaned back as if time had stopped.
About two seconds later, both of them stood up straight and smiled awkwardly at each other.
The young man no longer had that indifferent and powerless look on his face. His eyes were filled with excitement. "I didn't expect you to be so good at it. Do you want to spar inside? "
"I already said that I practice boxing, and you practice saber skills. How could I possibly be your opponent?" Roland shook his head helplessly.
"That's true." The young man sighed in disappointment, and his expression changed back to the weak look of a salted fish from before.
"Actually, I came here this time to learn miaodao techniques." Roland looked at the other party and said with a faint smile, "It seems that the teachings here are quite authentic. How much is the tuition?"
"30,000!"
"How much?!" Roland doubted that he had misheard.
"30,000." The young man yawned and continued, "I'll teach you. If you're stupid and can't learn it in a short time, I'll teach you until you learn it. But you don't look like a stupid person. "
Roland felt a headache coming on. "Your number is too exaggerated. And the environment here doesn't seem to be very good. It doesn't feel classy and isn't worth that much money. "
As he spoke, he pointed at the large shed that was supported by a double layer of iron sheets. This kind of venue was very similar to the skating rink in the town twenty years ago.
In fact, his guess was correct. This place was indeed an skating rink more than a decade ago, but when Internet cafes began to appear and the skating rink couldn't make money, it was abandoned. Then, a few years ago, the young man across the street took it over at an extremely cheap price.
The young man said indifferently, "You paid to learn saber skills, not to enjoy it. What does it matter if the environment is good or not? This kind of place is actually better. Practice in the summer and practice in the winter. It also trains people's willpower. "
"Can't it be cheaper?" Roland asked.
"No!" The young man's expression almost didn't change.
But the more it was like this, the more it showed that the other party was determined, and what he said was almost impossible to change.
Roland looked at the four students practicing under the large shed and asked, "Have they already paid thirty thousand?"
Thirty thousand was nothing for the rich, and sometimes they would throw away several times this number when treating a guest at night.
But for an ordinary person like Roland, it was quite a lot. Even though he now had nearly three hundred thousand dollars in his bank account, he still felt that it was very expensive.
He looked at the four students practicing saber skills in the shed, and they didn't look like rich people, so he suspected that the boss and coach in front of him was trying to extort some money from him.
"They're my relatives, of course they don't need money," the young man said matter-of-factly. At the same time, he took out a wrinkled, opened pack of Red Plum cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, handed it over, and said, "Want one?"
"Thank you, I don't smoke." Roland waved his hand. So it turned out to be the other party's relatives, so there was nothing he could do.
The young man lit one for himself, took a drag, and blew out a smoke ring. "It's good that you don't smoke. You can't smoke when practicing martial arts, it's bad for your lungs. If your lungs aren't good, you can't breathe, and if you're deficient in energy, not to mention practicing martial arts, it's good enough that your ordinary life isn't affected. "
Roland stared at the cigarette in the young man's hand with a strange expression, his eyes piercing.
"You mean me?" The young man shook the cigarette in his hand and said in the same emotionless tone, "I just put the cigarette in my mouth, not inhaled it into my lungs."
Then what's the point of smoking like this? Roland was slightly puzzled, but he didn't want to understand the reason for the young man's weird habit. He thought for a moment and asked, "Then how long have you been in business, and how many students have you recruited? Your relatives don't count."
"More than half a year, and there aren't any students outside." The young man seemed to be quite "honest."
Roland frowned even harder. He was about to speak, but his phone rang at this moment.
He made an embarrassed gesture to the young man, walked aside, and picked up the phone.
It was Schuck. "There's a new announcement on the official website. Have you read it?"
"I have something to do outside, and I don't have time to pay attention to the official website."
"You'd better read it now. It's related to you."
After saying this, the call was hung up.
Roland remembered that the chief planner said that a new announcement would be released soon. Could it be that he was mentioned in the announcement because he reported the bug?
But Schuck's personality was also relatively calm, and he shouldn't be the type to make a fuss over such a small matter.
Roland opened the browser on his phone, entered the game's official homepage, and saw that there was indeed a new announcement.
After clicking on it and reading it, he slapped his forehead speechlessly.
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