Among all the warehouse workers, only the chief steward, a man named Shang Yunzi, had access to the stores of medicinal herbs. Fortunately, he loved money and didn’t mind earning a little extra from the bandits. Despising the fortress residents from the bottom of his heart, Shang Yunzi would buy valuable goods and herbs from them for next to nothing, sometimes for a single jug of cheap wine, only to sell them later at triple the price.

  At dawn, Zhang Ming quietly slipped out of the livestock yard and headed toward the warehouses, where Lao Yu was waiting. Together, they went to arrange a deal. That day, carts of rice and other supplies had arrived from the city, and men were unloading them. The granaries and long storage buildings stood wide open, filled with provisions and goods meant to sustain five hundred bandits.

  “There he is,” said Lao Yu, pointing.

  A middle-aged man in a long robe, dressed more like a scholar or an official, was keeping track of the sacks, making neat brush marks on a wooden tablet. Unlike the other fortress dwellers, his clothes were spotless, with no sweat stains under the arms, and his hair was tied into a tidy topknot. He stood out sharply against the rough crowd. His expression of disdain toward the bandits unloading the carts was impossible to miss. Clearly, he considered himself above them.

  “How’s your health, Brother Yunzi?” Lao Yu greeted him with a smile.

  “I’m no brother of yours,” the steward replied without turning his head.

  “Don’t say that! You wound my heart!”

  “What do you want, Lao Yu? I’ve no time for your nonsense.”

  “Oh! Forgive me! You’re a busy man, I know, but surely we can find common ground when it comes to the sweet sound of silver coins, eh?”

  “And what exactly are you busy with, besides depleting the wine supply?”

  “Studying medicine!” the shaggy drunkard declared proudly. “You see, to drink as much as I want, I have to stay perfectly healthy.”

  “A noble goal,” Shang Yunzi replied dryly, still marking notes on his tablet.

  “For such a noble purpose, I’ll need... herbs. Since I happened to be passing by, I thought I’d ask if Brother Shang knew the right person.”

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  “Where’d you get money for that?”

  “Had a few silver coins lying around.”

  “Hmm.” The steward finally raised his chin and turned toward him. “For that kind of money, you won’t get much. Maybe ten bundles of herbs enough for a healing bath. … Five coins.”

  “Mm…” Lao Yu glanced at Zhang Min, who gave a small nod. “That’ll do. I’ll come tomorrow. We’ll talk more then.”

  “Mm,” Shang Yunzi muttered, turning back to his work.

  After a strange conversation in which no one actually mentioned buying or selling, the shaggy drunkard had still managed to strike a deal. Zhang Min now only had to find the missing silver coin within a single day. On his way back to the livestock yard, he was racking his brain over how to get such an “enormous” sum when he noticed three men loitering near the stables, clearly sent by Tu Hama.

  They’re waiting for me. Don’t look like real fighters. One of them’s downright fat, Zhang Min thought, hiding behind the corner of a house. Armed with sticks and wooden practice swords. Lao Yu was right—they’re not here to kill me. Then... do they have money? If only I knew…

  Looking around, he found a sturdy stick about a meter long, swung it through the air a few times to test its weight, and started toward the three bandits. Along the way, he hid his right hand with the weapon behind his back. Any small trick was worth using when facing enemies. The streets were empty; only a couple of people moved about near the stables.

  “Looking for me?” Zhang Min called out loudly.

  “Well, look who it is! Our missing rookie!” one of the bandits with a tanned face threw up his hands. “Crawled out of your hole, huh?”

  “And what are you following me for? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “Ha! The nerve on this one. No respect for his elders,” the fat bandit muttered, smoothing down his wild black beard.

  “Guess we’ll just have to teach him some manners,” the tall, skinny one added, his ferret-like face twisting into a grin.

  “Got the strength for that?” Zhang Min smirked.

  “Your tongue could use trimming!”

  “I swear I’ll break your legs today!” the tanned bandit shouted angrily. “Let’s see whose skills are better! I ask guidance from my junior brother!” he cried and charged at Zhang Min.

  With a wide downward swing, the bandit aimed to hit Zhang Min on the head and knock him out, but Zhang Min stepped back, dodging easily, and at the same time swung the stick hidden behind his back. As the man’s weapon whistled through the air and his body lurched forward from the force, Zhang Min smashed him full in the face. Stunned, the bandit staggered, tried to regain his balance, only to take another blow to the head. His companions realized what was happening and rushed to help, but it was too late. A third strike knocked the breath out of the tanned man, and he collapsed face-first onto the ground, unconscious.

  “You bastard! I’ll break every bone in your body!” the tall, skinny bandit roared.

  Barely dodging his first swing, Zhang Min stepped back just as a bamboo club sliced through the air in front of his face. He parried several attacks, but the recoil sent pain shooting through his arm. The stick he’d picked up wasn’t suited for fighting. Forced to retreat again, he kept dodging, but the bandit’s long arms gave him reach and his weapon was much better. Several hits landed, each one searing like a hot poker as it slammed into Zhang Min’s flesh.