The next day, as always, he woke at dawn. After washing up, he snatched a couple of still-warm chicken eggs and swallowed them raw for breakfast. While the others slept soundly, Zhang Min spent several hours training. When the sun finally rose above the horizon, he poured water from a barrel over himself to wash off the sweat, then lay down beneath the canopy of a large tree to wait for the morning feeding.

  “Got lucky with this assignment. You could say I ended up in the supply department. Heh-heh-heh,” he smirked. “No one but us takes care of the animals. Old Yu was right, we’re almost kings here.”

  Soothed by the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds, Zhang Min dozed off and slept until noon, until Xiao Bai woke him for lunch. They had missed the official mealtime, so they cooked the beans they’d traded for eggs the day before. By mutual agreement, the sack was stored in the barn along with the animal feed. Until evening, Zhang Min continued his practice and meditation, and after a long day’s work, he and Lin Bo headed back to the barrack for dinner.

  In the courtyard, large iron cauldrons stood on the kitchen stoves where the food was cooking. The bandits filled the tables, casting hungry glances at the steam rising from under the lids. Before long, the air was filled with the smell of sweet potatoes and goaling porridge. Like ducks before a feeding trough, the bandits crowded around the kitchen, holding out their bowls. Lin Bo and his brother carried two bowls in each hand until all six of last night’s drinking buddies had received their share.

  After finishing the poorly cooked, unseasoned porridge, Zhang Min wanted to take a walk, but near the shed beside the barrack, he noticed a man holding a very familiar-looking scabbard. He approached unhurriedly and, despite the rag carelessly wrapped around the sword, easily recognized his own trusty weapon. The stranger, a man with a broken nose and a scar on his chin, leaned against the shed wall, staring at the newcomer with a mocking smirk.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked insolently.

  “Return my weapon”, Zhang Min said calmly.

  “What weapon?” the man sneered. “I didn’t take anything from you. Heh-heh-heh”.

  “If you don’t give it back, I’ll take it by force”.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “You! Newbie!” the bandit pushed off from the wall and shouted, spitting as he spoke. “When was the last time you got punched in the face, huh? Dung-shoveler! Heh-heh! I’ll…”

  “Ah! A huge spider!” Zhang Min suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the wall behind the bandit.

  “Where? What…” The man turned, only to take a heavy punch square in the jaw.

  His eyes rolled back, and he began to fall backward slowly, like a felled tree. With one hand, Zhang Min neatly retrieved the scabbard and sword, then calmly watched as the man’s body hit the ground, thudding against the shed. Wiping off the dirt left by the bandit’s hands with his sleeve, he tucked the weapon back at his waist. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen, he returned to the barrack to join his friends.

  “Damn it… I couldn’t hold back. I hope Tang Gui’s protection still applies, or they’ll slit my throat in my sleep. Why is it so hard to become ‘one of them’?” he thought. “I can’t let every fool wipe his boots on me either, that’s no way to earn respect.”

  As Lin Bo and the other peasants chatted leisurely, darkness fell quickly outside. Night came, but after what had happened, Zhang Min didn’t dare fall asleep carelessly. Instead, he meditated until dawn, remaining alert. The breathing technique from the scroll restored his body and calmed his spirit. Blood flowed evenly through his veins, round after round, carrying with it a trace of unseen energy.

  Nothing happened that night. Breakfast went on as usual. Zhang Min didn’t see the man with the broken nose anywhere, so after eating, he calmly went to the pigsties, spending an uneventful day there. When dusk fell, he returned to the barrack for dinner, only to find the same man waiting in the courtyard, this time with a friend.

  “Tch. I knew this was coming,” Zhang Min clicked his tongue aloud.

  “Hey, rookie! Get over here!” shouted the man with the crooked, broken nose and scarred chin.

  “Huh?” Zhang Min stepped into the yard, stopping about fifteen paces from the two bandits.

  Sensing a fight coming, the barrack’s inhabitants had already gathered there, even calling over some acquaintances. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, like a market crowd, a couple dozen men laughing and talking. Lin Bo and the others quickly retreated toward the road, behind a small woven fence. They lacked both the strength and the courage to get involved.

  “Last time you attacked unfairly, coward! Now I’ll show you how high the heavens are!” the man with the crooked nose shouted.

  In his ragged clothes and tangled hair, he looked more like a beggar, and his soft, flabby sides betrayed laziness and a lack of practice. From the start, Zhang Min saw no real threat in him, armed or not, but his companion was different. His broad shoulders and thick neck suggested good physical training, and the rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular forearms, those of a real fighter. His neatly tied braid showed the discipline of someone ready for combat.

  Zhang Min very much wanted to test himself against that one, but he had little hope of a fair fight.