Every road or navigable river was a trade route, a monetary artery along which gold, silver and goods flowed from one place to another. People greedy for easy gain gathered along those routes, dreaming of getting rich quick or simply finding the means to survive. High mountains and impenetrable forests served as their hideouts.

  Under the weight of rapacious officials, clans and inept rulers the country had fallen into decay, and the southern barbarian incursions added misery to the common folk. Mountain bandits were joined not only by criminals, but also runaway slaves, convicts, deserters, people from every stratum, even masters of martial arts. Gangs skulked everywhere, sometimes attacking villages and even small towns. Bandit strongholds rose among the endless forests like mushrooms after rain.

  “Recently they caught a gang — turned out to be people from a clan in Puyang! Can you imagine? Under the guise of robbers, they were settling scores with rivals, with anyone they didn’t like,” the loquacious Li Chén said.

  “That’s terrible,” Zhang Min agreed.

  The world’s not perfect, but there’s always work for me, he thought.

  “As for me, the craftiest bandits are those who block the road and demand tolls. They don’t kill folks for no reason, so there’s always someone to shake down!”

  “I’ve met those.”

  “Ha! See.”

  “They don’t do it out of charity. I’m sure they dabble in dirtier business, too,” one of the squad’s fighters added. “No noble souls among them, only parasites. If it were up to me, I’d string every thief and bandit up along the roads so others wouldn’t try it.”

  “Heh. You’re cruel.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Let the crows peck their rotten carcasses first.”

  The squad turned off the road and began to push through the undergrowth. The seasoned, strong mercenaries moved briskly, but Zhang Min kept pace, though he didn’t join the chatter; he conserved his breath. On the path there were pits, long-fallen moss-grown trees, thickets of tall ferns and brambles that snagged clothing. Thanks to his running, he managed to keep the tempo, but the difference in training was still noticeable.

  “I think we’ve gone too far in,” one mercenary observed.

  “We just made a detour deeper into the wood,” Li Chén reassured him.

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  “Aren’t Demon Beasts said to live here?”

  “Ha, you scared of them?”

  “Aren’t you? For creatures like them, practitioners like us are the best kind of food”, the mercenary frowned. “They say those beasts are all man-eaters”.

  “That’s right. But their pelts sell for good money.”

  “No way. Even all together we wouldn’t manage.”

  “Everyone halt!” Li Chén commanded, pointing at a tree trunk marked with huge claw gouges. “Looks like you were right. This place belongs to a beast.”

  “Demonic?”

  “No. Just a very ordinary one. A large bear passed here,” the short-statured mercenary answered instead of the squad leader; he crouched by the tree and examined the traces carefully.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. The tracks are fresh. We can track and catch it,” he proposed. “What do you think?”

  “We’ve already lost a lot of time,” the squad commander waved him off.

  “Isn’t it dangerous to leave it alive? What if it attacks caravans?” Li Chén said — the idea of making a little extra money pleased him greatly.

  “Don’t invent things. There are two hundred people on those carts. No beast will dare.”

  “Wait. Aren’t we all here for coin? Why not get more. Commander, you don’t mind silver in your pocket either.”

  “Of course, I don’t, but—”

  “Look at the scratches. A giant bear left them. For the pelt alone we’ll fetch a couple of gold coins. Apothecaries will buy its organs without blinking. We’ll make a killing!” Li Chén kept urging.

  The mercenaries shot glances at one another. Extra coin wouldn’t hurt them, as Zhang Min had learned recently, progressing to a new level of skill required special medicines, and the farther one climbed, the more one had to spend. All of them risked their lives for money. The mercenaries’ eyes shone with greed; Zhang Min felt it too, his mouth gone dry at the prospect of bright clinking coins.

  “Fine. Let’s try,” the squad leader relented.

  The short tracker, skilled at reading signs, led them along a trail visible only to him. Occasionally other trees bore similar deep claw furrows or tufts of hair, as if the beast had been scratching itself against the bark. The animal had eloquently marked its territory, but the men ignored the warnings and pressed on.

  They had already strayed far from their original route; the forest thickened and darkened unnoticed. Dense crowns closed off the sky. Here and there the underbrush was broken, trees lay toppled. Suddenly a warning roar thudded out of the thicket, powerful and soul-chilling.

  It scented us. It’s not running. That makes our job easier, smirked the former hunter, then his face changed abruptly. “Damn! There are two of them. I don’t even know if we can handle that.”

  “We and Li Chén will distract one, you quickly kill the other,” the squad leader ordered.

  “It’s still not too late to fall back,” Zhang Min offered modestly.

  “Don’t be afraid! We’ll all pile on and kill both.”

  “Too late to back out. The bears are already here,” Li Chén rubbed his hands. “Don’t be afraid! They’re only animals.”

  Only animals, Zhang Min repeated inwardly. I really hope so.

  The forest closed in around them like a narrow room draped in dusk. A distant roar echoed through the trees, followed by a crackling sound that made his skin crawl. The hunter’s words hadn’t reassured anyone, the men gripped their spears and swords tighter. The air smelled of damp earth, grass, and mushrooms; a faint breeze carried another scent, sharp and unmistakable, like death itself.

  For a moment the forest fell silent, holding its breath. Even the birds seemed to hush.

  . . .