Returning home from the dock through the back alleys, Zhang Ming occasionally stumbled upon fights or robberies. Bandits, beggars, homeless people, and just poor folk looking for easy pickings gathered in groups and decided to try their luck. Greed clouded their minds, and money lured them with its shine, ensuring that the gravediggers always had work.

  Another evening descended on Zhang Ming’s monotonous, dreary life. Tired and sweaty, he trudged along the dark streets, unconsciously yielding the path to passersby to avoid getting beaten, when the clash of swords and muffled shouts of people reached his ears. Turning his head toward the sound, he noticed a couple of beggars slipping into the alley. They were probably hoping to profit—they weren't afraid to risk their heads. Their situation couldn't get any worse.

  I'm sick of slaving away for pennies from dawn till dusk! I want easy money too, he thought, heading toward the sound of the fight. Fortune favors the bold... It's never too late to flee.

  The beggars noticed him and quietly cursed, but nevertheless did nothing to waste their strength prematurely. They didn't know how the fight would end or if there would be unclaimed things to pocket. Cautiously along the wall, under the cover of the building's shadow, Zhang Ming approached the scene of the battle.

  Looks like bandits have jumped someone again. Hopefully they'll drop a purse, he suddenly thought, then shook his head. I'm turning into a real slum rat. Not far from thievery. Hello, rock bottom. Not even funny.

  Having reached the alley where the skirmish occurred and metal clanged against metal, Zhang Ming peeked out from behind the corner and assessed the situation. Armed with swords and axes, bandits tried to kill a man in expensive clothes. Darkness didn't allow him to make out their faces, only silhouettes. It seemed four had attacked, but one already lay face down on the ground and showed no signs of life. The victim skillfully wielded his sword and didn't give the bandits a chance for an easy victory.

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  One of the beggars darted to the prone man and started frantically patting down his clothes. He didn't even notice as the bandits retreated a few steps and saw him robbing their companion. With a whistle, a sword sliced through the air and, along with it, the beggar's back. Writhing in pain and filling the area with savage howling, he got another blow to the head before falling silent forever.

  Covering his mouth with his hand, Zhang Ming hid back behind the corner and pressed his back against the wall. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Darkness hid the details of the murder from him, but what he saw still shocked the newcomer from another world heavily. His legs tried to carry him away, but reason, along with twelve days of dock work, held him in place. Holding his breath, he listened.

  "You dared to attack me with such pitiful forces! Ha!" a smug male voice came, "I'll leave one of you alive to tell others about me. Remember! My name is Du Lei from the Fierce Blade School!"

  The sound of footsteps, the whistle of a sword cutting the air, and the clang of metal against metal followed. The fight resumed with renewed vigor but didn't last long. One by one, the bandits fell to the ground, filling the street with death cries. The swordsman left one of them alive as promised, then simply turned and left. It seemed the mass slaughter had lifted his mood, as he whistled lightly.

  Zhang Ming peeked out from behind the corner again and saw several silhouettes darting from the doorway to the fallen bandits' bodies. They appeared faster than he could blink. Without thinking twice, Zhang Ming rushed to the nearest still-living bandit, kicked a dark figure bent over the body with a running start, and it thudded against the wall. Ignoring the ragamuffin's curses, he began searching the wounded man.

  With trembling hands, Zhang Ming checked pockets, clothes, belt, things in hands, hastily felt the ground around, finally yanked off an earring, and quickly stuffed everything inside his clothes. The wounded bandit grabbed his sleeve, threateningly growling and spewing curses, but could do nothing. Shaking off his hand, Zhang Ming dashed away as fast as he could. He didn't wait for the beggars to finish looting the other bodies.

  The former drunk's body suffered from running like from exquisite torture. Zhang Ming's lungs burned with fire, his face flushed red, and his legs shook like a newborn calf's. By roundabout paths, he reached his street, where he collapsed to the ground between houses and for some time gasped for air, trying not to suffocate. Apparently, the body's previous owner had never run in his life.

  I'll die right now... he thought, drooling onto the dusty ground. Damn drunkard...