The Abbot often asked if I understood what it meant to live.

My answers changed as I grew and learned.

It went from eating good food to helping others, to providing enlightenment.

The Abbot often asked if I understood what it meant to train.

My answer did not change as I grew and learned.

We of the Temple of Wushu were an order of protectors and warriors. We trained to promote peace. Even if it meant it was peace by bloodshed.

I, like the many orphans left at the temple gates, was raised and tutored in the ways of Wushu. Military arts used to defend oneself and others. In that order. If you could not defend yourself, then you were simply seeking death.

We lived by the principles of the Heavenly Dao. The path to enlargement and righteousness. Our fists were soaked in blood, but we did it so that the common man and women did not have to suffer. We would walk down this path to ensure justice was available to all.

I lived to fight. I fight to follow the principles of my order’s dao. The dao was my way of life.

The Abbot often asked, what it was that laid before my fist.

My answer was much like the training I had endured for two decades.

The principles of the Heavenly Dao foretold what was there.

It was my destiny.

I would walk towards that elusive goal until the day I could ascend beyond the clouds and into the heavenly planes. That would be the final leg of my mortal journey.

Afterwords? Who knew. Not even the Abbot could guide me in this as he himself was

The Abbot often asked, what it was that laid behind my fist.

My answer changed as I learned and grew. It was myself… but now it was vague. Who was I exactly?

A monk. A warrior. A wanderer.

I knew that the answer was both simple and profound. But I could not answer that question with enough conviction to satisfy the Abbot.

The Abbot’s question burned in my mind. It haunted me during meditation and training.

I knew that the answer I would find was beneath the Heavens. I just had to have a fortuitous encounter.

So I left.

——

The fight was fierce.

The bandits that once insulted us now quivered in fear as they watched their leader face off against Harold Bluehawk. A strong knight.

I moved in, a drunken walk that they were unable to cope with as I tilted to and fro. My intentions were deadly as I made my way over to a man with a dagger. My iron-like fingers simply tore out his throat.

Magical heat flared past me, making the two closest to me break away from each other. One had his clothes light up with amber sparks. Rita Firepride. A fire mage of some repute.

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I ran towards the other one. I jumped and spun. I twirled once. Twice. Thrice.

My off leg slapped at the sword in the man’s hands. It would reduce some of my power, but it was enough to break the man’s guard. To open up a spot over his heart.

The resulting kick connected. Its power was such that it the worn leather offered little protection and the power sent the man careening off and into a tree. He made neither sound nor movement after that.

I moved back as the man’s friend screamed in loss and anger.

The man moved in, but our party’s elf simply notched an arrow and ended that fight before it began. Elenia Deepleaf. A graceful young lady.

I took a deep breath as the sudden silence signaled the end of the fight.

We panted. We laughed.

Boblin ran around giggling as he double tapped the bodies. He slid a dagger into vital flesh from safe angles. Boblin the goblin. An enthusiastic little green boy.

It was dirty, but I understood. It was part of Boblin’s nature to act in such a manner.

Goblins were weak by nature. They rarely ate well and their tiny stature did not lend itself to the art of war. Without numbers or favorable terrain, they were easily overpowered.

Boblin laughed as the pudgy goblin skipped over to us. In his hands were several little pouches that he then stuffs into his burlap sack.

The little green boy was strange. He didn’t hoard his treasure but wanted to carry it. The division of the treasure did not bother him. He only desired to eat good food, and sleep in peace.

They were sentiments I could agree on.

“Water,” Elenia said as she tossed over the skin of water.

I collected myself and thanked her as I took a nice long drink. Cool water flooded my mouth and I took another pull of water before I capped it and tossed it back.

She did the same before moving over to Rita.

“Sing. Look! Medal,” Boblin whispered as he scampered over. The youth was so excited that he tripped and fell once. This elected laughter but it was cheerful and without malice.

The green youth pressed a medal of iron and copper into my hands. I stared at it and narrowed my eyes. This symbol.

I patted Boblin on the head. The green youth beamed at the positive reinforcement before he ran back to his sack. He took great care to sling it over his shoulder and his smile showed off his white teeth as he was ready to move on.

I stepped towards Harold. The man was using one of the bandit’s shirt to clean off the rest of the blood.

“Harold. I think you may recognize this,” I said as I held out the medal.

The knight finished his task and inspected his work. There was no more blood and he slid the weapon in his sheath.

He then stared at me for a moment before taking the medal.

The design had reminded me of the crest that sat on his chest plate, and pauldrons. His shield also had it on the front.

“House Howlingwof!?” Harold gasped as he nearly dropped the medal. “Impossible!”

I looked over to see Boblin waddling over. During these calms moments he liked to pretend he was another animal and today it was an odd form of a bird that had no knees.

“Boblin. Which body did you grab this medal from?” I asked as I squatted so that we could have easy eye contact.

The green goblin shrank under Harold’s intense gaze, but he pointed at all of them. He then dropped his sack and rummaged around.

It took nearly a minute but he pulled out another six medal.

There were seven bandits.

Boblin, in a rare show of trust, made his way over to Harold and held up the other medals.

Harold kneeled onto one leg and accepted the medals. His eyes were locked onto Boblin’s hands and he began to inspect the other medals.

When he looked up onto Boblin’s face, his gaze softened. He reached out slowly and patted the bald green head. Much like I often did.

Boblin’s face of shock nearly made my laugh out loud. It didn’t stop Rita and Elenia though.

“We have a problem on our hands,” Harold said as he grabbed the medals and stuff them into Boblin’s sack.

I tilted my head.

During my time with my friends here, there was nothing but problems.

We huddled together as Harold talked about the game of houses and how his house hated this other house that then directly dealt with these bandits. They were not just bandits, but knights and squires moonlighting as bandits.

Boblin had lost interest halfway through and began to chase a butterfly.

I only understood the gist of the situation, but I knew I would help Harold out. The man was a stickler for rules and order as defined by books and the hundred vows. He was also a friend.

We made out way back to camp and the girls ran off to clean up by the nearby river.

I began to gather firewood and I stopped as I looked at the setting sun.

Nine years.

I had been gone nine years and I felt no enlightenment to that answer. An insight I have gained, but I still had not found the dao that would shake my heart.

Boblin hoped over. Then promptly tripped on a round stone and fell over, his arm of sticks spilling into the air.

I laughed.

Enlightenment could wait.

Right now Boblin needed my help as he sheepishly looked at me before breaking into that odd throaty laugh as well.

Who knows, maybe Boblin would be key to showing me the answer that had confounded me for so long.