Over the night, the stench of a crowd of filthy ragged men thickened, steeped, and reached a new level of foulness. A couple dozen unwashed fellows did not smell of roses. Even though the doors were wide open, the room aired out slowly, so Zhang Min hastened outside to gulp some fresh air. He simply ignored all the jokes tossed his way.

  Outside the barrack, the sociable peasants were helping to prepare breakfast, getting acquainted with the other bandits. Lin Bo was the most active, as if he felt responsible for the rest. On a wooden table lay chopped vegetables and a sack of rice, while a large pot simmered over the fire.

  “Long live the new day”, said Zhang Min.

  “Oh! You’re awake? Come here”, Lin Bo waved to him. “Grab a bowl”.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming, just let me wash first”, Zhang Min replied, pulling a good-natured smile onto his face.

  Taking one of the bowls that hung on the fence near the barrack, he went to the well. Stripping to the waist, he rinsed himself, washed off the sweat, then carefully cleaned the bowl and his chopsticks with a bunch of grass. Though the dishes looked clean, he still felt squeamish. Besides, only a couple of other bandits bothered to wash up; the rest, upon waking, would go straight to the latrine, then grab food with their dirty hands, filling bowls and eating, sometimes helping themselves with their fingers. Fortunately, the unpleasant sight didn’t affect Zhang Min’s appetite.

  After a meager breakfast of sweet potato mixed with rice, he and the four former peasants washed everyone’s dishes and scrubbed the pot. According to the other bandits, this was a daily duty for newcomers. Nobody argued. Since Zhang Min had recently lain unconscious, Lin Bo and his brother volunteered to do the work in his stead and sent him off to rest. He didn’t refuse.

  After breakfast, some of the bandits returned to the barrack to sleep more, while others scattered to their own business. No construction was underway in the fort, no daily cleaning or repairs. Without special orders, people simply found whatever suited them. Lacking much imagination, the bandits either idled or gambled. No one kept watch over the newcomers, and after washing dishes they waited for someone to assign them new work.

  While there’s time, I should look around the fort, talk to people. Pity I don’t have any money left. It’s always useful for making acquaintances, he thought. The main thing is not to make it look like I’m snooping around.

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  “Lin Bo, do you think they’ll come for us soon? I want to take a walk”.

  “There’s still time. Go, just don’t be long”.

  As Zhang Min strolled leisurely through the fortress streets, familiarizing himself with his temporary home, no one paid him any attention. His shabby clothes, mop of tangled hair, and stubble made him look just like the rest of the fort’s inhabitants. He memorized the positions of the barracks and warehouses, admired from afar the houses of the gang leaders—off-limits without orders—and even stumbled across a modest stable holding several dozen horses.

  The fearsome “Fortress of the Earth Dragon,” in name only, had little in common with a real fortress. It looked more like a small village surrounded by a wooden palisade. With no planning and the random placement of buildings, the streets were crooked and winding. Most of the structures were pitiful sights, likely drafty in every wind, but the warehouses and a few houses in the fort’s heart stood out sharply, like mansions among slums.

  By Zhang Min’s impression, about four hundred cutthroats lived in the fort, maybe more, a real army hidden in the forest. At its head stood the chieftain, though he rarely showed himself to his subordinates; instead, squad leaders ran daily affairs. Recently, the previous leader of the Brown Boar squad had suddenly died, and his place was taken by Tan Gui.

  “It’s strange, how could such a strong man die all of a sudden?” one bandit confided.

  Quite the coincidence. One man wanted to be commander, and the other just happened to die at the perfect time, Zhang Min smirked inwardly. A mystery, no doubt!

  He tried not to ask too many questions, unobtrusively learning only the most general facts about the gang. Besides the Brown Boar squad, there were three more: the Horned Snake, the Mountain Leopard, and the Black Hawk. Each had its own commander, but otherwise they weren’t much different. Most of their ranks were filled with the lowest sort of thugs from all around, mere expendable fodder. The gang’s core was the chieftain’s personal squad of several dozen martial arts masters. Just how strong they were, Zhang Min didn’t bother to ask.

  Now I see why the fortress feels more like a town, he thought. The masters must enjoy comfort and don’t want to live in a filthy barrack like the rest.

  Passing by the stables, he heard clucking and pig grunts behind them. Following the sounds, Zhang Min found pig pens and a large chicken coop. During breakfast he hadn’t seen a single scrap of meat in his bowl, clearly the animals were kept only for the leaders, while the common bandits were fed more simply. Power had its perks; perhaps that was why the former leader of the Brown Boar squad had met such an early death.

  The fort was roughly divided into a living area and utility buildings. Livestock was kept away from the barracks, behind the warehouses and stables, so the rank-and-file bandits had less temptation to steal. Aside from the livestock handlers, Zhang Min saw only a couple of guards, yet the bandits still kept away.

  “I bet someone was once executed in public for stealing a chicken,” he chuckled aloud. “That must’ve been bloody, no wonder they’re so well-behaved”.