Chapter 2: The Bandit Skilled in Both Pen and Sword

Even just a few months ago, Lu Santong could never have imagined himself becoming a bandit in the mountains.

In truth, even now, he felt this profession was a waste of his talents. But since he had chosen this path, he was determined to be a learned bandit.

Santong was not especially cultured; as a child, he had once studied in Huainan, read a few books, and learned to recognize some characters. Yet among these mountain bandits, that made him exceptional.

Because he was literate and in the prime of his life, the others chose him as their leader, to guide these desperate villagers in banditry.

To call it banditry was really flattering themselves. This place lay at the edge of Pei Commandery, not far from the borders of the Xianbei’s Yan and the Qiang’s Great Qin—regions often at war. As a result, the land was nearly deserted, with only a few displaced people who had fled to the mountains to escape the chaos. They would clear small plots to grow crops, and after minor skirmishes ended, they would scavenge for abandoned tools and food near the battlefields.

Occasionally, they would rob small groups of travelers, but such opportunities were rare indeed.

Today, Wei Diao’er strutted with pride. For the first time, after following Santong down the mountain, he had found a great deal of grain—over half a cartload, abandoned by Jin soldiers in their retreat. He was already planning to tell his mother the grain was taken in a heist, so she could see her son was truly capable.

Santong was pleased as well at the sight of so much grain; it would last them a long time. The more he looked, the happier he became, until inspiration struck and he began to recite, “Today’s harvest is plentiful!”

The others stopped in their tracks, waiting for him to continue. After a moment, Santong added, “A whole cart of grain!”

“Bravo!” the crowd cheered in unison.

Wei Diao’er clapped enthusiastically from the side, repeating, “What a poem! What a poem!”

Zhang Chi had been standing before the bandits for some time, reluctant to interrupt their poetic mood. To attract their attention, he finally greeted them, “Amitabha.”

A monk? Wei Diao’er and Santong, who were at the front, looked over at the voice and saw three monks—an old man and two youths, two with shaved heads and the third with a head of short but growing hair.

The one with the stubbly hair bounded forward like a rabbit and asked, “Kind sirs, are you here to rob us?”

Santong stared in confusion. As an educated man, he knew monks relied on laypeople for support, hence the term “benefactor.” To hear “benefactor” and “robbery” in the same sentence was jarring. He almost wanted to switch places and call these monks “benefactors” himself.

“Honorable heroes, are you here to rob us?” Zhang Chi said again when he received no reply.

Before his journey, Zhang Chi had worn his hair short. In recent days, traveling south with Daoyuan and Daoxuan, he’d worn Daoxuan’s monk robes, so at a glance, he certainly looked like a monk.

Wei Diao’er stared in bewilderment at these monks who had appeared from behind the slope, thinking, “Are these fools offering themselves up? Have they chanted themselves stupid?”

“Yes, we— we— we are robbing you!” stammered Wei Diao’er, his first time, understandably lacking confidence.

Zhang Chi immediately thought of Fan Wei in “A World Without Thieves” and mused that all comedies have their real-life prototypes. He then looked around at the ragtag group before him—old and young, armed with farm tools, their clothes in tatters.

“Then, tell me, will it be a battle of words or force?” he asked.

Santong had never heard of “robbing by words or by force.” “How does one rob by words? And by force?”

“It’s simple,” Zhang Chi explained. “Force means fighting. If you can beat us, our possessions are yours. Words mean debating; if you can out-argue us, you win our goods as well.”

Santong was unconcerned. Among the bandits, he was the strongest and the most literate, often praised by the others. He figured he could easily handle three monks, especially with dozens of his own men at his back. It was a perfect opportunity to show off both his literary and martial talents.

“With all due respect, judging by your appearance, I doubt you could even best our youngest little monk,” he said, referring to Daoxuan. “If you can’t defeat us by force or by words, you’d do better to disband. Banditry holds no future for you. Why not become my page boy?” Zhang Chi pointed at Santong.

Santong grinned, amused. “Do monks even need page boys? This little monk is truly a character.”

The monks’ words infuriated the bandits. Wei Diao’er was especially furious. “Big brother, let’s teach this little monk a lesson. We’ll rob them in every way—words and force!”

Santong, full of confidence, waved for silence and calmly said to Zhang Chi, “You should know, I am a bandit skilled in both letters and arms.”

...

Alas, not even a single exchange and Santong was already knocked to the ground by Daoxuan.

No sooner had Daoxuan felled Santong and started to rejoice than he noticed the dust at his feet tremble ever so slightly. He became alert—something was coming from the north.

Santong was just about to charge again when Daoxuan stopped him. “Wait.”

“We haven’t settled this! I slipped just now. It doesn’t count!” Santong, thinking Daoxuan was backing out after gaining the upper hand, grew angry.

But Daoxuan was still looking north. The mountain path twisted ahead, thick with vegetation; the view was not wide, but he did not need to see. He knew, by the tremor of the earth, that a troop of cavalry was fast approaching, likely following the mountain road, though they would have to circle a bend.

But cavalry moved fast. A few hundred steps was only a blink of an eye for warhorses. Once they appeared, there would be no time to escape.

“Run, quickly.” Daoxuan pointed to a wooded area several hundred meters away. “If you make it into the forest, you might survive.”

Santong felt slighted and shouted, “Intolerable!” He was about to order his men forward when Daoxuan sprang to Daoyuan’s side, picked him up, and called back to Zhang Chi, “Run!”

Zhang Chi immediately understood—they were on the borderlands, and Hu cavalry was approaching. He knew Daoxuan was highly skilled, but in the chaos of battle, even the best martial artist could fall. He sprinted toward the thick woods ahead.

“The Hu are coming! Run!” Zhang Chi shouted as he ran, already dozens of paces away.

The bandits were baffled, unmoved. Wei Diao’er said to Santong, “Could they be running out of fear of our numbers?”

Zhang Chi looked back and saw they still hadn’t moved. He cursed their stupidity, dashed back, grabbed Santong, and shouted, “If you don’t run now, you’ll die!” He tried to drag Santong away.

But Santong was naturally strong. Zhang Chi’s tug only resulted in Santong shaking him off, sending Zhang Chi tumbling to the ground.

The bandits burst out laughing. Just as Zhang Chi was about to speak, he looked up and saw birds scattering from the northern ridge. With a sigh, he said, “It’s already too late.”

In the time it took to say that, the laughter had vanished. They could now clearly hear the thunder of hooves, and from the northern valley, a mass of horsemen burst forth, charging with shouts and whips raised.

There was only one mountain path—it was clear the cavalry was coming straight for them.

“The Hu!” someone shouted.

At that, panic erupted. Santong knew well how swift their horses were; in a heartbeat, the cavalry would be upon them. On the battlefield, a single clash would be enough to wipe out his ragged band—none would survive.

If they scattered down the road, they’d never outrun the horses. Santong saw the cavalry closing in like a whirlwind. “Don’t run down the road!” he shouted. “Head for the woods!”

In the woods, horses would be slowed. If they could reach the dense forest, the Hu might not pursue. But by now, the bandits were completely panicked, unable to heed his cries. The woods were nearby, but in their confusion, all they could do was flee down the road.

With no time to lose, Santong grabbed Wei Diao’er by the collar, hoisted him up by the waist, and hurled him toward the forest edge.

Wei Diao’er landed hard, his backside aching as if split, but he knew the difference between pain and death. Glancing up, he saw Santong had thrown him right to the forest’s edge. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled deeper into the woods, patting his rear and thinking, “Thank heavens it’s not broken.”

Santong, though not highly skilled, was tremendously strong. He threw three more men toward the woods in quick succession. But as he turned to look for others to help, the shrill cries of the cavalry were already at his ears.

“To think I came to save you, yet you didn’t throw me first,” came a calm voice at his feet.

In that perilous moment, Santong was struck by the man’s composure—Zhang Chi, still seated at his feet, unhurried even at the edge of death. Santong felt a surge of respect.

Santong was a bandit; he might not understand matters of state, but he prized loyalty above all. His stubbornness had doomed his brothers and this little monk as well.

Regret filled his heart, and his address changed, “Brother monk, I owe you.” With that, he stepped sideways to shield Zhang Chi.

He had only just done so when a cold wind swept past his temples—a steel spear flashed toward his brow.

But the spear halted just at his forehead; Daoxuan had arrived in the nick of time, grabbing the shaft and, with a mighty heave, tossing the rider from his mount.

Without pausing, Daoxuan spun, hurling the spear like a javelin. With a sickening thud, it pierced straight through another horseman, pinning him lifeless to his saddle.

Santong had stared death in the face, and though it was loyalty that made him shield Zhang Chi, he was nonetheless left speechless by terror. Daoxuan grabbed Santong by the waist, seized Zhang Chi with his other hand, and in two great leaps, carried them both out of the fray. Sadly, several others who hadn’t escaped were already dead in the blink of an eye.

Moving with lightning speed, Daoxuan raced for the forest, one man clutched in each hand. Under the cover of thick woods, their tracks vanished within moments.

The Hu cavalry came like the wind and departed the same way. Seeing their quarry vanish into the forest, where horses could not follow, they gave up the chase and thundered down the road.