“What kind of mess have you idiots made here, huh?” shouted Mo Dushi. “Should I leave you without food? Or beat your backs raw with a club?”

  “We…” one of the beaten bandits tried to explain, smacking his swollen lips.

  “Shut your mouths! Ten strikes with the stick for each of you!”

  Though there were no real laws in the Fortress of the Earth Dragon, brawls were still punished to maintain order. The gang was made up mostly of runaway slaves, criminals, and deserters — people who could easily kill one another if left unchecked. Over time, a kind of hierarchy had formed among them, with unwritten leaders keeping things in balance, so open conflicts were rare. The newcomer had disrupted this fragile order, which greatly annoyed lieutenant Mo.

  “Step forward!” he ordered.

  Staggering, Zhang Min stepped over one of the groaning bandits lying on the ground, then slowly approached Lieutenant Mo. Streams of blood ran from his split lip and cracked brow, dripping heavily onto the dirt. His torn clothes hung off him in tatters, and his back was covered in scrapes and bruises. He took a deep breath, straightened to his full height, and met the man’s gaze.

  “Why so much noise from a newcomer, huh?” snarled Mo Dushi. “Too much pride? We’ll fix that quickly.”

  With a sharp smack, a slap sent Zhang Min sprawling. The force of it couldn’t compare to the weak punches from recent brawl, it was like being hit in the head with a sledgehammer. His cheek burned like fire; his ear rang so loudly it drowned out all other sound. The world blurred before his eyes. Lying on the ground, Zhang Min caught the smug grin on the thickset man’s face.

  “That’s enough! No more fighting without my permission!” Mo Dushi barked. “Disperse! And if you want to teach the newcomer something, challenge him to a duel like warriors. Stop turning this place into a dogfight!”

  “Got it!” the bandits shouted back.

  “Bastard!” Zhang Min thought, and then blacked out.

  When he next opened his eyes, he saw the familiar ceiling of the barrack above him. Outside, birds were chirping; the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, lighting the sleeping bandits. Turning his head, Zhang Min spotted Lao Yu snoring on the mat beside him. Between them stood a basin of water, with a blood-stained rag draped over the edge.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  This time I slept till morning. Missed dinner, he thought, then recalled the previous evening. I’m almost certain those three idiots were sent by Tu Hama. He’s angry I refused to be his lackey. He won’t leave me alone now. And on top of that, Lieutenant Mo hates me. His men beat me harder than before. Feels like something burst inside… hopefully nothing important.

  Closing his eyes, Zhang Min began to meditate, restoring his body and spirit as he used to. A wave of warmth flowed through his bloodstream, easing the pain, slowly relieving the ache in his bones. Hours passed before the bandits began to wake and head outside, while the smell of boiled beans mixed with smoke filled the air.

  “How are you? Still alive?” Lin Bo’s voice made Zhang Min pause his meditation.

  “Mm.”

  “Good. Hey! Xiao Bai, bring Brother Zhang some boiled beans and don’t forget a flatbread,” Lin Bo called out.

  “Well, brother, you’ve gotten yourself into trouble,” yawned Lao Yu beside him.

  “It’s not my fault,” Zhang Min rasped.

  “I know,” said the shaggy bandit, scratching his cheek. “Maybe you’re just unlucky? Heh. I can't even remember what you look like without a swollen mug and bruises.”

  “Brother Zhang is very strong”, said Xiao Bai as he passed by on his way to fetch food. “He took on three men at once! I really respect you!”

  “Thanks, little Bai,” Zhang Min replied. “But I have a feeling this story isn’t over yet.”

  “I think so too,” Lao Yu agreed. “Oh! Want me to train you?”

  “Huh? You can fight?”

  “Pfft, of course,” the scruffy drunkard said proudly, even getting to his feet for emphasis. “I’m great with a sword! Just a few lessons and I’ll make you a master.”

  “A master, huh?”

  “Heh-heh-heh, at least I’ll teach you the basics. Doesn't matter what style you end up using, the basics are the basics. They're the same everywhere.”

  “Eh,” sighed Lin Bo, listening to them. “You’d better go make peace, or this will never end.”

  “It’s not that simple, Brother Lin,” Zhang Min shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’ll be tough, but I’ll manage.”

  The world of bandits is simple—the strong rule. I’ve achieved a lot already; I just need to push a little further,” he thought. “Too bad I started training so late. Without some kind of boost, breaking through to the first stage of body tempering will take forever. If only I could get into the bandits’ treasure stores, there must be something useful there.

  This time, the ten-stick punishment was carried out with far more cruelty than before, as if they meant to beat Zhang Min to death. He didn’t show it, but he felt like a piece of tenderized meat. If last time he could stand up the same day, now he could barely move his arms, even turning his head hurt. For two days he lay motionless under Lao Yu’s care in the barrack.

  On the third night, Zhang Min stepped outside for some fresh air and to meditate under the stars. Just as he settled on the wooden platform, he heard footsteps behind him. A bandit emerged from the barrack, drew his sword without a word, and attacked. Zhang Min rolled aside, enduring pain through his whole body, then jumped to his feet and, snatching a handful of debris from the ground, darted behind a post.

  “Alarm!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.