The city of Baohe stood at the branching mouth of a river flowing into the sea. Its markets brimmed with an endless variety of fish, as well as mollusks, crabs, octopuses, and other creatures from the depths. Amid such abundance, a small trader with a few river fish was lost, like a grain of sand on a beach. After one lucky day when Zhang Min sold his entire catch at once, came a string of failures. For several days in a row, no one bought anything from him.

  "Fish stalls everywhere", he muttered, glancing around. "I didn’t think of that. And it looks like fishermen aren’t exactly swimming in gold either".

  If Zhang Min had come at dawn and stayed at the market for hours, he could have sold more fish. But he only devoted a couple of hours to it before returning to training. He hadn’t abandoned his mercenary career and was preparing with all his strength for the next job. Despite the obvious risks, no other trade within the city paid as well, and besides, Zhang Min enjoyed visiting new towns, resting in nature, admiring beautiful views, and meeting new people. It reminded him of business trips from his former world.

  War is profitable in any world, he thought.

  Since selling fish brought no real profit, Zhang Min gave it up and reduced the number of traps to two, enough to provide food but no surplus. He devoted himself entirely to strengthening his body and practicing with the sword, even going so far as to live by the riverbank. Thanks to fishing, his food expenses dropped significantly, allowing him to stretch his savings for another week.

  Constant physical exertion gave him not only strength and flexibility but completely transformed his body, though he did not notice it himself. His washbasin only reflected his face, and in the two months he had spent in this world he had never once come across a mirror. Yet old acquaintances no longer recognized him from behind or even by his gait.

  The girls’ real father, the former Zhang Min, had never cared much for his health. A life of drinking and hard labor since childhood had left him in poor shape. His thin, hunched body seemed forever bent in a servile bow; his straddling, half-bent gait, from ruined knees, made him look short and unimposing. For a petty trickster from the slums, such a figure was ideal, and he had never wanted to change.

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  The new Zhang Min, by contrast, led a healthy life, ate and slept well, and most importantly, spent two of his four months here training intensely. His flexibility returned, his knees no longer hurt, his manner of walking changed, and his back gradually straightened, giving him decent posture and making him seem nearly a head taller. Strengthened muscles made his movements smooth and confident. Zhang Min no longer looked like a petty thief and now appeared as a reasonably healthy man, though he still didn’t look like even a novice martial artist.

  Not only his body but his face changed as well. Once swollen with wine, it regained the shape of a young man’s features. His hair, which had thinned badly from malnutrition, began to grow back into a thick mane. Eyes that had once been as dull as a dead fish’s now gleamed with vitality, and his gaze was clear.

  "Zhang Min? Is that you? Ha! I hardly recognized you", an old acquaintance stopped him, one he had worked with as a porter. "What happened to you?"

  "All’s well. Changed jobs".

  "You look… different. Taller, even?"

  "Hah, I doubt that’s possible."

  "Maybe you’ve been cursed?" the man whispered. "I know a shaman…"

  "No, everything’s fine!"

  "Oh! Then how about a drink together?"

  "I’m busy right now. Another time".

  "Strange fellow," the man squinted. "Definitely cursed…"

  Again? What kind of reaction is that? Zhang Min wondered. Do I really look so strange? Hopefully these primitive folk won’t burn me at the stake like a witch.

  Despite the heavy physical strain he endured every day, Zhang Min liked the measured rhythm of life. But all good things ended sooner or later. Of the once-huge sum, huge by slum standards, only memories remained, and his purse was empty. Circumstances forced him to seek work.

  Calling on his meager connections, Zhang Min secured a spot with the escort of the Zhao family’s next trading caravan. Luckily, they still had records of him from last time, which made things easier. The caravan wouldn’t depart for several days, and since there weren’t enough hands, he was assigned to guard the gates, escort wagons through the city, and was promised extra pay for all of it.

  This time, the Zhao trading house was fulfilling an order to deliver provisions to several mines owned by another, more powerful organization. Merchants themselves weren’t going along, only overseers and accountants. According to the other mercenaries, the route passed through areas where iron ore, copper, and even spiritual crystals were mined, though Zhang Min only had the vaguest notion of what those were.

  That evening, he returned home, cooked a tasty dinner, checked on Xue and Mingzhu’s progress in memorizing the few characters he himself knew, and then, mustering his courage, told them about the new job. The girls froze as if struck by lightning, then pursed their lips and fought hard not to cry, listening bravely to their father’s words.