Beyond the gates, the squad paused briefly. Zhang Ming selected the two most taciturn bandits to help him with the cart and dismissed the rest. He had no desire to appear before Tang Gui surrounded by a crowd, one careless word could cost him his life. Robbing officials in a major city carried consequences, and unlike common thugs, the leaders understood that well. From the moment Zhang Ming crossed the fortress gates, the bony arms of death had already clasped him from behind.

  They’ll chop my head off, no doubt about it, he thought. I warned those fools to keep their mouths shut, but how long will that last? There’s little time left. Perhaps none at all, if news from Baohe has already reached the mountain.

  Walking at an unhurried pace along the dusty road, Zhang Ming habitually surveyed his surroundings, listening to fragments of conversation from bandits he passed. In case everything turned upside down, he mapped out escape routes in advance, recalling every corner of the fortress where pursuit could be shaken off most easily.

  When the cart creaked to a halt before Tang Gui’s house, a chill ran down his spine.

  “Reporting to the commander upon our return!” he shouted, steeling himself.

  “Why are you yelling?” Mo Dushi stepped out of the house. “Bring it into the yard.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Well now, who do we have here?” Tang Gui himself appeared in the doorway, wearing a benevolent smile, like an uncle greeting his favorite nephews. His gaze settled on the chests protruding from beneath the worn burlap. “Looks like business went well! Heh-heh-heh. And where did you get all this?” he asked mockingly, as if the question meant little.

  “We got lucky. Heh-heh-heh,” Zhang Ming replied, scratching the back of his head.

  “Lucky, you say… Why were you gone so long?”

  “Forgive me, sir.” Zhang Ming offered no explanation and simply bowed.

  They don’t know. Not yet! The thought flashed through his mind, and a smile spread across his face on its own.

  “Let’s see what you’ve brought me.” Tang Gui wiped his hand on his trousers and approached the cart.

  With a single motion, he tore the burlap from the chests, then gestured for them to be set down and opened. Inside lay fine tableware, costly trinkets and ornaments. The smallest chest was filled to the brim with silver. Tang Gui’s greedy eyes gleamed at the sight of the rich haul; only in such moments did his smile become genuine.

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  “I was not mistaken about you,” he praised. “So where did you say these chests came from?”

  “I had to make an effort to please you,” Zhang Ming said, adopting a servile expression and bowing slightly. “So we robbed a few merchants.”

  “Good.” Tang Gui nodded without even looking at him. “You may go. Get some proper rest.”

  “Yes, sir!” Zhang Ming signaled to the two bandits who had accompanied him, and together they quickly left the yard of the Brown Boar’s commander.

  “My lord, he’s hiding something,” Mo’s assistant snorted. “He must have pocketed part of it. This is all picked goods. Nothing extra. Where’s the rest?”

  “I know.” Tang Gui stroked his chin. “We’ll find out soon enough. Question the men from his squad, in your usual way. It’s never too late to punish a disobedient dog. Heh-heh.”

  “You’re right, my lord.”

  If not for the captive girls, Zhang Ming would never have returned to the bandit fortress, and he had no intention of lingering. He understood perfectly well that news of the robbery in Baohe would soon arrive. Whether his men let their tongues slip or word came directly from the city, the outcome would be the same, he would be executed in the most painful fashion imaginable.

  Time to get the hell out of here, he thought, gradually quickening his pace. All that’s left is to take the children. I’ve reached the third stage of body tempering now. If I must, I’ll carry them myself. I’ll run straight toward the army if I have to.

  Turning into a narrow, dark alley, Zhang Ming shot toward the pigsties so swiftly that a deep imprint of his foot remained in the earth. He knew the fortress like the back of his hand and had slipped to the hideout unseen more than once. As if aiding him, clouds drifted across the sky, casting the mountain in heavy shadow. Even in the evening dusk, darkness swallowed the outlines of objects; where no torches burned, a man could not see beyond his outstretched hand.

  Despite the blackness of the alleys, Zhang Ming did not falter once, weaving unerringly between houses, fences, and outbuildings. From afar he caught the smell of manure, then heard the familiar snorting of horses. Like a passing shadow, he slipped by the guards, moved past the pens, and reached the area behind the pigsties.

  No torches burned there. Absolute darkness reigned. Chilled by the autumn cold, insects made no sound. The forest stood in ominous silence, as though bracing for a storm. Even the breathing of pigs behind the barn wall seemed too loud.

  Keeping low to the ground, Zhang Ming crossed the weed-choked clearing in a few breaths and entered the old shed. Carefully, without making a sound, he opened the hatch and descended into the refuge.

  “Hey… how are you?” he whispered. No answer came.

  On a crate near the entrance, he found a candle by touch and lit it. The hideout was empty. Even the bedding was gone. Zhang Ming’s heart skipped a beat; his hands turned cold. For a moment he stared blankly at the abandoned room, at the pots and scattered items, while his mind filled with one grim assumption after another.

  He stood motionless, examining the refuge.

  The room was tidy, no disorder, no signs of struggle. Three sleeping mats lay on the floor, neatly rolled toward the headrests. All the water containers stood in place; a wooden ladle hung on the wall above them. Clean plates with chopsticks rested atop the crate that served as a table.

  Only the sacks of food and the items he had borrowed from the warehouse were missing.

  At last, on the floor, he noticed several characters traced in clay by a finger:

  We’ve left. Thank you for everything.

  Beside the words was a small drawing, likely Xiao Mei’s hand, of three girls waving goodbye.