After two days they climbed a gentle hill, beyond which spread a green valley split by a river. Thick forest bordered its edges, and near it stood rickety huts, hastily assembled. In the middle of the road at the foot of the hill, a large crowd had gathered, people with weapons, clad in dirty sleeveless robes and other ragged clothes. Apparently they had been waiting for the trader’s caravan for some time. The vanguard of mercenaries was only three to four hundred meters away, so the wagons would have no time to turn or flee.

  “Passage closed!” shouted a bearded man from afar, his bald head gleaming.

  “Who are you? Why block the road?” the head of security yelled back.

  “We are from the Fortress of the Earth Dragon! This is our land! Pay for passage!”

  Bandits again? Aren't there too many of them? Zhang Ming thought. They must’ve cursed me for sure!

  Despite the bold words, the bandits did not rush forward; some looked visibly nervous at the sight of the grim mercenaries. In Zhang Ming’s view, neither side wanted conflict, they’d both suffer losses. If bandits challenged every passing trader, sooner or later nothing would be left of their ragtag army.

  “We’ll pay,” the trader sighed, looking at his thinning escort. “Let’s not let things escalate. Ask what they want.”

  “As you command, sir!” replied the head of security, then called to the bandits, “How much is passage?”

  “Ten silver per wagon!” the bandit said, rubbing his bald scalp, visibly relaxing.

  “We’ll give thirty for all of them!”

  “Forty and you may pass.”

  “Deal!”

  “Send someone forward to deliver the money,” the trader frowned, reluctantly drawing his purse full of silver.

  “As you will!” The head of security turned and scanned the mercenaries. Only one looked him in the eye; the rest avoided meeting his glance. “You! Yes you! What’s your name?”

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  “Zhang Ming.”

  “Here. Give this purse to the bandit leader.”

  “Uh-uh? Me?”

  “Yes.”

  Why me? Zhang Ming wanted to shout, even opened his mouth, but stayed silent. Can’t show fear, or reputation’s done. No one will hire me anymore.

  “All others, full combat readiness! Forward!” commanded the head, and the wagons creaked into motion.

  Sweat poured off the men as they passed by the crowd of bandits. The recent battle still echoed in their minds, making their stern faces radiate a resolve to sell their lives as dearly as possible. The mercenaries gripped their shields on their backs, palms on weapon hilts. Pale, trembling grooms urged horses onward, doing their best not to look at the armed crowd around them.

  Forty silvers could feed me for a year! Zhang Ming thought as he received the money. Should’ve joined bandits… I wonder how many wagons pass this way a week?

  With a completely stone-face expression he approached the bandit leader and silently handed over the purse. The man in front of him did not look especially menacing or mighty, despite his bald head, long side-hair hung down past his shoulders like dirty icicles. Dust clung to his unshaven face, and from beneath his squinted eyelids his eyes shone. The bandit noticed the stare and smirked. An inexplicable pressure crashed onto Zhang Ming, the air filled with the smell of blood, as if he stood before a blood-hungry beast, ready to sink its fangs.

  What the hell? Did he do that? Martial arts master? Zhang Ming thought, fighting rising fear. What is a person like him doing among bandits?

  “Hah! Strong fellow. You didn’t flinch,” smiled the leader, weighing the purse in one hand. “Payment received. You may go.”

  To jeers from the bandits, Zhang Ming almost ran back to the wagons, and he felt no shame in his behavior. Luckily, the band of beggars held up their end, and the traders with their escort crossed the river safely. A few mounted warriors lagged behind, watching the bandits’ reaction until the caravan had moved far enough. Only after an hour’s walk did the people relax and sigh in relief.

  What did that man do? Zhang Min frowned as he remembered the pressure that the bearded bandit leader had exerted on him.

  At that moment he felt not only a thirst for blood but also the leader’s power, far beyond that of an ordinary human. Beside him arose a feeling of utter helplessness and terror, as though he stood before a huge beast that would decide whether he lived or died. Zhang Ming never wanted to feel such a thing again.

  Being just a skilled mercenary is not enough. I want power like his, he clenched his fists. I start to believe that there are miracles here, ones that didn’t exist in my world. Inner Qi or life energy—whatever it is! Even magic! As long as it helps me survive.

  “I hope there are no more bandits ahead!” sighed a mercenary next to him.

  “Don’t jinx us!” Zhang Ming shouted at him.

  .