Seated in a private cabin, Zhang Ming took out a small vial of medicine and carefully applied ointment to his wounds, then drank a special restorative tincture to hasten recovery. From the wealthy estates his squad had carried off not only coin and silk, but also a trove of medicines, rare herbs used by physicians of the highest rank. Thanks to them, the wounded members of the band were patched up, and none had to be mercy-killed. Strong liquor dulled what pain remained.

  During the voyage, which lasted exactly one day, all who had taken part in the raid slept like the dead, while Zhang Ming meditated, preparing for his return to the Earth Dragon Fortress. Three captives awaited him there. From nameless strangers they had become disciples whose names he knew, whose faces and hope-filled eyes he remembered. He had seen their joy and their sorrow, eaten and drunk beside them. He wanted to pull them from that hell as swiftly as possible.

  Exactly a day later, the merchant vessel docked at a small fishing village, where the bandits disembarked with their cargo. The crew was paid with a portion of the spoils: silks, costly fabrics, and other bulky goods unfit for storage in the forest. The remnants of the Mad Saber’s gang received their share as well, yet instead of joy they felt unease, lingering hesitantly on deck. They feared the bandit commander and did not know what to expect from him.

  “Lu Piao, I have a task for you,” Zhang Ming called him over. “Take all these fools and sail with them to Puyang.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Do as I say. We’ll disembark here, you sail on. We already have three dead. One more or less makes no difference.”

  “Uh… all right.”

  “Here, for expenses.” Zhang Ming handed him a chest filled with silver. “Take the spearman’s belongings as well. I spared his life. His weapon and gear can serve as payment for my generosity. Wait for me in Puyang.”

  “The one with the short folk?” Lu Piao asked.

  “Right.” Zhang Ming nodded after a pause.

  It’s better if he doesn’t run into Xue and Mingzhu without me, he thought. Let him simply be there. I’ll test his loyalty as well. I’ll need men… if I survive, of course.

  “How long do we wait?” the loyal bandit asked, scratching his head.

  “Ten days. If I don’t return, do whatever you want with the money. And don’t go back to the fortress. Understood?”

  “Uh… yes.”

  When the ship carrying Lu Piao and the others sailed away, Zhang Ming purchased three carts and two donkeys from the fishermen. The squad then moved along a forest path deeper into the mountains. Clouds drifted high above, at times veiling the sun. A day had passed since the rain, yet dampness still clung to the air, and droplets lingered on the leaves, soaking the boots of those pushing the carts. A cool autumn wind chased scattered fallen leaves across the yellowing forest.

  The bandits murmured among themselves, casting wary glances at their commander. The chime of coins in the chests stirred the deepest corners of their hearts. They longed to plunge their arms elbow-deep into silver, to admire the gleaming boat-shaped ingots. They did not want to haul this wealth back to the fortress; the mere thought of parting with it cast gloom over their hearts. Concealing a smile, Zhang Ming observed his men.

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  “Commander,” one of the bandits could not hold back, “are we really returning all the money to the fortress?”

  “Ahem.” Zhang Ming cleared his throat loudly and climbed atop a cart so all could see him. “I don’t want to hand over our money, the money we risked our hides for. What do you think?”

  “Right! Right!” the mountain bandits shouted over one another.

  “I propose we hide the spoils. I’ve already chosen a place. Once things settle down, we’ll retrieve it and divide it. Among everyone. Equally.”

  “Long live Commander Zhang!” the men roared.

  “Then let’s hurry.” He raised his hand. “Pick out the most useless items. We’ll bring those to Tang Guyu. Let him be pleased.”

  Laughter broke out.

  Before long, the remains of a burned village appeared among the trees, nearly swallowed by young saplings and brush. Beneath one charred house with a stone foundation, a cellar had survived. In a single day the bandits cleared it, reinforced it, and carried the chests of coins and ingots inside. When finished, they sealed the entrance tightly with stones and covered it with grass. The reliability of the hiding place was questionable, but no one would stumble upon it by chance.

  Now twenty men know about the treasure. Will they fight over it, or truly divide it? Zhang Ming studied the faces of the mountain bandits. Soon there will be a spectacle of greed the likes of which no one has seen.

  Deep down, he too wished to keep everything for himself, yet he forced his thoughts toward more urgent matters. Time slipped away like water through fingers. If his plan had worked, the roads would soon be crawling with soldiers, and reaching the fortress safely would become impossible. Moreover, there were ties between the Hengyang Clan and the Earth Dragons. They would likely send a pigeon to warn of what had happened in Baohe. He had to arrive first.

  “We return to the fortress!” Zhang Ming ordered. “Move quickly.”

  A day before the raids began, when the bandits were only preparing and sharpening their blades, a light drizzle had fallen over the city, bringing coolness and freshness. Cleansed air swept through the streets, carrying away the stale odors of crowded dwellings. The sun dipped toward the horizon, and the old tavern by the port welcomed its patrons.

  At a separate table gathered five old friends. Not long ago, they had worked together as porters; now they met to reminisce.

  “I’m truly glad you’re back, Brother Zhang! You’re hardly recognizable—like a different man!” exclaimed the gap-toothed porter. “Remember how we once wanted to sell your girls? Heh. By the way, where did they go?”

  “No idea. I don’t care.” Zhang Ming smiled.

  “This is a fine evening,” the plump man said, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. “We should gather like this more often. You’ve grown into yourself, Brother Zhang… yes… must be earning well?”

  “Did you hear? Our former foreman got caught taking bribes,” the third porter shared, chuckling as he relayed the latest dockside gossip.

  “I’ve heard something too,” Zhang Ming leaned toward the table conspiratorially. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  “I swear by my ancestors!”

  “You know me, I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “Good.” Zhang Ming nodded. “Word reached me that mountain bandits have infiltrated the city.”

  “Hah? No way!”

  “I’m telling you the truth. They’re from the Earth Dragons. They have a large fortress to the east…” Zhang Ming described the approximate location of the mountain stronghold and frightened his companions with tales of the bandits’ cruelty. “Some say they eat people. Just like that!”

  “Ah!” The gap-toothed man covered his mouth, though his eyes darted about as if already counting profit.

  Leaning back in his chair, Zhang Ming watched their reactions with a faint smile. After lingering a while longer with his former acquaintances and paying the bill for all, he left for the rendezvous with his squad.

  Staggering and humming under his breath, Zhang Ming wandered down the street until he turned into an alley. There, his steps grew firm, his gaze sharp as a dagger.