Chapter 3: The Mockery of Fate

When these words were spoken, the fleeting hope that had just appeared on the villagers’ faces vanished instantly. Five taels of silver, in this mountain village, was not a sum anyone could easily produce. Their usual game was mostly traded for grain, and even if all of it were exchanged for silver, a single Exploding Bear would fetch only one tael from the itinerant merchants. And to bring down an Exploding Bear, even the most conservative estimate required the coordinated effort of twenty of the best hunters, with casualties all but inevitable.

Thus, the price of silver here seemed grossly inflated; some families might not accumulate five taels in a lifetime. Demanding five taels per person was as good as saying nothing at all. Here, five taels could buy five strong men at once.

Yet, cowed by the mountain bandits’ brutality and the corpses lying before them, the villagers, though anxious, dared not raise their voices. All eyes turned to the elder at the front.

This elder, the long-bearded man who had told the tale of the warrior, was the oldest and most knowledgeable in the village, as well as the head of the ancestral hall—known to all as the clan chief. He was the one who usually negotiated with the bandits; in this moment, he was the villagers’ last hope.

With a faint cough, the old man stepped forward, supported by two men at his sides. He first clasped his hands in respectful greeting, then spoke, “May I ask, my lord, are the chiefs of Wolf Fang Mountain still there? We have faithfully paid our dues as agreed. Might there be some misunderstanding?”

“Who are you?” the burly man didn’t answer, but the gaunt, scar-faced fellow beside him curled his lips, withdrawing his arm to tightly grip his sheathed sword, as if ready to run the elder through at a single wrong word.

“I am the clan chief of this village, my lord,” the old man replied, his hands again respectfully together. Whether it was age or acceptance of death, he seemed unafraid.

“So, you are the clan chief. My apologies!” Only then did the stubble-chinned bandit leader speak. “Wolf Fang Mountain was nothing but a rabble masquerading as our Wolf Heart Mountain faction. Only yesterday did I lead men to wipe them out completely.”

“Your previous arrangements with Wolf Fang Mountain are void. From now, for three years, none of you will need to pay tribute to any stronghold. Clan chief, this is a great boon—don’t make things difficult for me!”

The elder’s body trembled slightly. He glanced back at the villagers, their faces flickering with uncertainty, and sighed inwardly. He bowed again. “We dare not, my lord. May I ask, this time, are there any requirements for the selection of young men? If you would tell us, we could discuss and give you an answer.”

The bandit chief laughed. “You’re an interesting old man. There are no great requirements—so long as they are tall and over ten years old, that’s enough.”

He grinned wickedly. “Since you’re so sensible, I’ll tell you something else. This time, the great chief isn’t looking for cannon fodder—he means to train elite fighters for the stronghold. If someone from your village rises to a high position, what future could you not hope for?”

“So, I’ll give you a quarter of an hour. If you’re not ready by then, I’ll just grab whoever I see fit. As it happens, we’re running short of women in the stronghold—take this chance well.”

The elder returned to the villagers, and at a signal from the third chief, the bandits withdrew a little, giving them space to confer.

From Hu San’s vantage, the crowd boiled with panic. Faces were etched with fear; families with enough sons anxiously debated whom to send, while those lacking tried to gather ransom from brothers and sisters.

Ugly scenes erupted as each fought for a sliver of survival, but with the bandits watching and the old chief mediating, outright violence was avoided.

It seemed, at last, a decision was reached. The crowd quieted, and each family pushed their chosen forward. Only a bleak desolation remained.

Hu San, dazed, saw his chubby friend Lin Huzi shoved forward by his parents, tears brimming as he crouched helplessly on the ground. Most of their usual playmates had also been sent out. It seemed the villagers, remembering the chief’s words, believed the younger boys had a better chance of survival, and made their choices accordingly. Still, most of those sent forward were sturdy young men; the children were in the minority.

“My parents wouldn’t send me out, would they? No, surely not—Mother loves me too much!” As his own turn approached, Hu San bit his lip and clung tightly to his mother’s hem, his heart pounding like a drum.

“Child, live well. Your elder brother is about to marry; if you go now, it’s all over. Don’t blame us for being ruthless!” But at last, these were the words he heard. Rough, calloused hands, trembling, pushed him forward, along with his second brother.

In that instant, a thunderous crash sounded in Hu San’s mind. When he turned, his parents had already led his younger siblings away into the crowd, leaving only his eldest brother standing nearby in shame, rubbing his hands and staring at the dark, blood-stained earth.

“So this is my fate?” Hu San’s heart went cold. He stared, dazed, at his family in the crowd, but unlike the others, he did not cry hysterically. Silently, he clenched his fists, his heart twisting with a pain he could not name.

There was hatred for the bandits, who had torn him from his parents’ arms; resentment toward his parents, for their ruthless decision; and envy for his elder brother’s good fortune and life.

In that moment, Hu San felt himself change, though he could not have said how.

Had a master of martial arts been present, they might have seen a faint page turning in the center of Hu San’s chest, dissolving into a purple light that seeped into his heart.

Lost in confusion, Hu San did not know how it all ended. When he came fully to his senses, he and the others were already far from the village. The wails and cries behind them grew fainter and fainter, until they vanished altogether.

They marched through darkness, mountain bandits with blades at either side. Lost and hopeless, Hu San could not imagine a future; it seemed certain he would die.

A commotion broke out suddenly in the ranks—a scuffle, cries of alarm, and the bandits quickly moved to restore order. By torchlight, the grim faces of the bandits were illuminated, and on the rocky ground lay a ragged youth, pierced by three long arrows that quivered like feathered tails. Blood gushed from his wounds, his screams weakening until he lay silent and dead.

“It’s Second Brother!” Hu San recognized him instantly, his heart shuddering. A flood of emotions—bitter, sweet, sour, and salty—washed over him. Boys did not know the taste of sorrow; even in the face of death, he felt less sadness than a looming sense of catastrophe.

“Will I be implicated?” As his thoughts raced, the bandits parted, and out strode a burly, bow-wielding man, a wicked smile curling his lips. His gaze swept the crowd and settled on Hu San.

“The chief has graciously invited you into the stronghold, yet some are ungrateful. Do you not know the power of my bow?”

“From now on, any who try to escape will cost their family two lives. Even now, this rule stands. Does this boy have brothers among you?”

The man’s icy gaze struck Hu San like water in the dead of winter, leaving every pore tightened and his body trembling.

An ordinary boy might have collapsed under that murderous stare, lying prone and inviting his own doom. But Hu San was different. Even as he shook with fear, a purple light flowed in his heart, helping him maintain the expression of an ordinary, frightened village boy.

“Interesting!”

At some point, the third chief appeared among the crowd. He had expected Hu San to expose himself in panic and be kicked to death, but was surprised by Hu San’s composure.

“What an intriguing boy,” the chief thought, a mysterious smile playing at his lips.

Not only the third chief, but the archer bandit too was taken aback. He could not quite recall which of Hu Er’s brothers Hu San was, but with so many bandits, someone had seen him pushed forward with his parents. When he split the crowd, he was already prepared to kill Hu San at the first sign of weakness, using it as a pretext, but Hu San’s calm unsettled him.

This boy is not simple. Unless he’s a fool, he must be deep and cunning, limited only by his station. In the shadows, he could be as dangerous as a viper—someone to be feared.

Without a grudge, the bandit might have left him alone, but with the death of a brother, sleep would not come easy.

These thoughts stoked the bandit’s murderous intent, his aura suffused with blood, almost tangible to the boys from the village.

At once, many collapsed in terror, the stench of urine and feces spreading.

This time, Hu San allowed himself to fall to the ground as well, which brought a sigh of relief from both the archer and the third chief. They shared a view: geniuses could be tolerated, but monsters must be destroyed. Had Hu San not collapsed, the third chief, despite his own calculations, would have killed him himself.