Early the next morning, a knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
Loa was drinking tea in the courtyard, with Wangcai lying beside him in the sun. At the knock, Wangcai's ears twitched, but Wangcai did not get up-there were servants to handle it, after all.
"Come in."
The gate opened, and the steward led old Hiri and Wharton inside.
Wharton had changed into clean clothes today and combed his hair neatly, nothing like his sweat-drenched appearance on the training grounds yesterday. But his expression was a little odd. He stood behind old Hiri, his gaze evasive, stealing an occasional glance at Loa.
Old Hiri walked over and slapped him on the back of the head. (Old Hiri had served three generations. What was wrong with giving him a slap?)
"What are you hiding for?" Old Hiri scolded with a laugh. "Weren't you having a great time fighting yesterday? Why have you lost your nerve today?"
Wharton rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly.
Watching this, Loa understood.
He set down his teacup and stood.
"Wharton," he said.
Wharton immediately straightened. "Here."
"Do you know who I am?"
Wharton froze for a moment, then shook his head.
He did not know.
After returning from the fight yesterday, he had asked old Hiri, who had only said that Loa was someone very important and that he would bring Wharton to see him today. But old Hiri had kept his exact identity a mystery.
Loa smiled.
"Nine years ago, in Wushan Town," he said. "A three-year-old boy ran out of a house, and I gave him a wooden sword."
Wharton's eyes slowly widened.
The scene surfaced in his mind-although he had only been three then and his memories were already hazy, he vaguely remembered a young man talking to his older