King of All Arts

Boom, boom!

On a somewhat sultry night, a bus was slowly making its way down a lonely road.

The stillness of the night felt peculiar.

Inside the bus, a woman cradled a child, about a year old, in her arms. The child’s incessant wailing made the stifling heat even more oppressive and stirred unease among the passengers.

Standing by the door was a portly man, speaking loudly into his phone with an exasperated expression. He cursed now and then, clearly enraged by something on the other end of the call.

Opposite him sat a young man, listening to music with one hand resting nonchalantly on the railing, seemingly at ease.

The driver at the front said nothing, his silent focus on the road lending the night an eerie edge.

Suddenly, with a screech of brakes, the bus came to a halt.

The doors swung open.

The three passengers looked on in surprise—perhaps at the abrupt stop, or perhaps at the thought that someone else would board the bus at this late hour.

Slowly, a young man dressed in a Taoist robe stepped aboard. His hair was closely cropped, his expression earnest and upright. On his back, he carried two swords—one a crimson peachwood sword, the other fashioned from a string of copper coins.

Without a word, the young Taoist sat cross-legged in a seat.

With a heavy clank, the doors slammed shut, and the bus resumed its slow journey.

The portly man, who had been shouting into his phone, now fell silent, glancing nervously at the young Taoist. He swallowed in fear.

The music-listening youth remove