[color=#ff6666][CENTER][b][h2]LEDAAL LING BAO[/h2][/b][/CENTER][/color]

[color=gray]
Bao quietly let the woman´s words stir within his head. He thought of himself as both a capable fighter and scholar, so her request enticed him immediately. Sure, exploring culture and landscapes was essential for the creation of great poetry, but so was money. Through a mixture of being sheltered, oblivious and fascinated with the natural world, Bao had no interest in money beyond having enough to live peacefully. Yet in his bag the seeds of a grand book patiently waited for his care.

The old man left the temple of fine arts willingly, and in his heart knew he could no longer depend on them for sustenance. He had done all manner of commissions and collections before, but this felt different. It was a direct and regular job. [i][color=#ff6666]It will be new experience[/color][/i], he thought. His hands held each other, masked by sleeves and their simple ornamental designs, and the poet bowed. [color=#ff6666]“I will accept your task with honor.”[/color]

The sight of the disheveled man accepting the sword with no hesitation didn´t bother him as much as having his wisdom shrugged off. These emotions grew within Bao and were soothed just as quickly as they had sprung, since at first glance the hasty young man appeared to be the most capable of wielding a sword. Bao´s combat staff lay on the ground beside him, reminding him what his true weapon was. 
[/color]