All the residents of the fortress, except for the sentries, gathered for the feast but didn’t dare touch the food, waiting for their chieftain. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the carved double doors of the long pavilion, from which, to the beat of drums, emerged a large bearded man in leather armor. Behind him came the other leaders of the gang.

  “Long life to the chieftain! Glory to the Earth Dragons!” the gathered bandits shouted in unison.

  Raising his hand in a regal gesture, the armored man silenced the crowd. Standing beneath the awning where the finest dishes and wines had been prepared for him, he surveyed his army. After a brief pause, the chieftain delivered a short but fiery speech about the greatness of the Earth Dragon Gang and the fear it inspired throughout the region. Then he commanded everyone to eat and drink without restraint.

  Amid the joyous shouts, the feast finally began.

  “Long life to the chieftain! Glory to the Earth Dragon Gang!”

  To avoid quarrels, each squad was seated separately, so Zhang Ming found himself among familiar faces, doing his best to appear part of the celebration. The tables groaned under the weight of food: meat, fish, and all sorts of dishes. Taking advantage of the occasion, Zhang Ming ate his fill without any restraint.

  Apparently, the leaders had already divided the valuables from their recent haul among themselves, and the feast was merely for show, to make it seem as though they were generously sharing their bounty. Fortunately for them, the rank-and-file bandits didn’t care, as long as they could drink for days on end. No one else would dare speak out.

  I’d love to peek into their chests, Zhang Ming thought, scratching his cheek as he watched the chieftain and his advisors take their seats of honor beneath the wooden canopy.

  For entertainment, the bandits untied the captives and forced them to serve wine. Weakened from the long journey, the women could barely walk, sometimes stumbling and falling, which drew cruel laughter from the crowd. They were pelted with scraps and gnawed bones like dogs, and the starving captives, tears in their eyes, ate from the dirt. If one of them broke a jug, she was beaten. Rough hands grabbed at delicate bodies, subjecting them to humiliation and shame before the entire horde.

  The residents of the fortress, people who only recently still resembled humans, had turned into disgusting beasts.

  Zhang Ming’s heart ached for the captives. He longed to help them but had no means to do so. His own helplessness filled him with misery, and for the first time in a long while, he drank heavily with the shaggy bandit and Lin Bo, trying to distance himself from what he was witnessing.

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  He chatted with other bandits as the night wore on, but he drank too much to remember any of their faces later.

  At the height of the celebration, the chieftain’s distinguished guest, a man dressed in luxurious black robes, seized a captive by the throat. Fingers adorned with golden rings clenched like a vise. With one hand, he lifted the unfortunate man into the air, smiling coldly as he watched the captive convulse in agony.

  When the man was on the verge of death, black snakes slithered from the guest’s sleeve and wrapped around the prisoner’s head like ink-black ropes. The victim’s body shuddered violently, then fell to the ground, shrunken, dried up, and lifeless, like a mummy.

  “Hahaha! Lord Yin Hua once again astonishes us with his mastery. Your ‘Nine Conversions’ technique is truly worthy of its reputation,” the chieftain praised.

  “You flatter me,” the sorcerer replied with a smile.

  After witnessing such horror, Zhang Ming took several large gulps of wine straight from the jug, then a few more. What he had seen defied all reason. It looked less like martial arts and more like sorcery. He had once seen a ship sailing through the sky, yet even that hadn’t been as hard to believe as the sight of black snakes crawling out from beneath a man’s skin. The transformation of a human into a desiccated corpse was horrifying.

  “I tried so hard to quit drinking…” Zhang Ming muttered, tossing the empty jug aside. “But tonight, I’m definitely getting drunk.”

  “I approve,” Lao Yu said, handing him another cup of wine. “Tonight’s the night for it.”

  “Why are you getting him drunk?” Lin Bo shook his head.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t you want to see what he’s like when he’s drunk?”

  “Khmm… no.”

  “Don’t be so dull,” the shaggy bandit waved him off. “Come on, have a drink! What shall we toast to?”

  “To Xue and Minzhu! May they be safe and happy!” Zhang Ming slurred.

  “Cheers to that! And who are they?”

  “Maybe Brother Zhang had a family too, like Lu Han,” Lin Bo said quietly. “He lost everyone. Survived alone. Barely kept his sanity.”

  “I don’t know. Brother Zhang! Tell us about them.”

  “They’re good… too good for me. They used to look at me with those big eyes, like I had all the answers… but I don’t know a damn thing. Where even am I? What is this place?”

  “You’re here with us. Drink some more,” Lao Yu poured him another cup.

  “I was used to being responsible only for my own life… and now I’ve got two innocent lives depending on me! What right do I have to decide their fate?” Zhang Ming took a few heavy gulps. “Honestly, I don’t even know how to deal with kids. I’m not a real father! I'm fake! You hear?”

  “Yeah, yeah, have another.”

  “That’s it!” Zhang Ming staggered to his feet. “I’m going to save them!”

  “Save who?”

  “Xue and Minzhu!”

  “That’s our man! Go on, save them all!” Lao Yu cheered.

  “What are you encouraging him for?” Lin Bo fretted.

  “No idea.”

  “You know how serious he gets. What if he does something crazy? We’ll be the ones paying for it later.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him. Besides, he can barely stand.”

  “I’ll save them…” Zhang Ming mumbled and collapsed to the ground. “Papa’s coming…”

  Soon, a drunken haze clouded his mind. The world turned into a dream, vivid and formless all at once. Faces and figures blurred together. Bandits danced, shouted, brawled. Wine flowed like a river, laughter and screams merging into chaotic noise.

  At some point, he thought there was a brief fight, his iron fists striking unseen faces, each blow landing true. Then he was running somewhere through the fortress at night, something heavy across his shoulders, his breath loud in his ears.

  The chaos faded into stillness, cool earth beneath his side, softness under his head.

  Zhang Ming fell asleep.