26 A western name (2/2)

After half an hour Hartley reached the top and among trees there was a leveled piece of land with a humble old wooden cabin built near a spring, there were frogs croaking and birds chirping, you could hear the sound of the leaves as the trees swayed from side to side in the wind, overall it was a very calming atmosphere.

When Hartley reached the door of the cabin, the door swung open and in the cabin there was an old man with no aura sitting on a prayer mat, he was very thin and could be described as skin and bones, he was not very tall either, he had a head full of white hair and wrinkles which seemed to be carved with the knife a sculptor decorated his sagging skin.

He opened his lively brown eyes jumped up and said

”Come in, I've made some tea”

there were only a table, two chairs and a prayer mat inside the cabin, the simple wooden brown table had matching color chairs, on the table in the middle of the cabin were a solitary teapot with steam coming out of its snout, flanked by two ceramic cups which were empty.

As Hartley stepped in, the old man smiled and said ”you've grown.”

Hartley respectfully bowed and said ”this one greets the elder” the old man said ”no need for that, just call me Patriarch Lou” Hartley nodded as the old man instructed ”sit.”

They sat down facing each other in silence the old man sipped his tea and a look of bliss appeared on his face, Hartley also sipped his tea, it had a soothing aroma and a sweet smooth taste.

”You must really hate the Lou clan”

said the old man suddenly,

Hartley stayed quiet for while then answered,

”If you hate unfairness, you will hate the Lou clan, not even in a death battle can one find fairness in the Lou clan, so the answer to that question is simple.”

The old man sighed, he stretched out his feeble looking right hand to the side like his fingers were wrapped around someone's neck, he then said

”The rules of the Lou clan has been passed down for countless centuries, one cannot break them as he pleases.”

Hartley could hear a faint voice pleading and begging for forgiveness, the voice sounded familiar, it was the voice Lou Pangie, and then the old man twisted his hand, there was an audible crick sound and the voice went silent.....

With thoughts of vengeance swirling through his mind, Lou Pangie, whose face seem to have two permanent tear drops falling, was sitting in his court yard beside the body of his grandson wrapped in white sheets, suddenly the void opened up in front of him and a hand reached out and grabbed his neck like a vice-grip around a bolt, he heard the voice of the patriarch saying something about rules but he was so frighten that he couldn't clearly make out what was being said, in his panic all he could do was beg for his dog of a life, but begging was futile, he was dead seconds later.....

Hartley was scared out of wits as well, even though he hadn't seen what happened he could make an educated guess, sweat ran down his back.

The old man sighed for a long time, then said

”You remind me of your father so much.....Have you ever wondered why your name is so different from everybody else's?”

Hartley had a childhood memory of his uncle saying his name was so western, but he didn't know what that meant, and still didn't know what that means.