Yuan City, within a certain dojo.
Otogirusu was kneeling on the floor, a tea table laid out before him with two cups of light green tea on it.
Opposite him sat a middle-aged man cross-legged.
This middle-aged man was rather peculiar: his appearance plain, neither good nor bad; his physique mundane, neither short nor tall; his clothes ordinary, neither trendy nor outdated.
Such a person, no more conspicuous than a stone if thrown into the street, exuded a chilling, unnatural aura.
Distorted, uncoordinated... it was like seeing an African elephant in the Arctic ice, or a full Han banquet with a dish looking up at the stars, creating a disturbingly incongruous picture.
This extreme discordance provoked unease in anyone who saw him, like a splinter festering under the skin, compelling a desire to remove him immediately and producing a visceral disgust.
