He glanced at the corpse on the ground and the fierce-auraed young leader opposite him. Cupping his hands, he spoke in a fairly steady voice.
"Hero, this old man is Chen Mingyuan. What happened tonight must have been a misunderstanding.
"You heroes seek wealth. My Chen Family is willing to offer ten sacks of fine millet. Please accept them and leave, turning swords and spears into jade and silk. How about it?"
A cold curve tugged at the young leader's lips. His gaze swept over the greed and vicious gleam still burning in his men's eyes, and he slowly shook his head.
"Old Squire, a few sacks of rice... I'm afraid they won't fill the bellies of all these brothers of mine. They... probably won't be willing."
Steward Chen's grizzled brows twitched. A flicker of pain flashed through his eyes, but he immediately suppressed it.
Drawing a deep breath, he raised his hand again.
"If that is so... then I'll add half of a freshly slaughtered fat pig! More than a hundred catties of meat! Please, hero, do us a favor and leave a path for both sides!"
He waved behind him. Two sturdy servants struggled out carrying a bloody, plump side of pork and dropped it heavily onto the ground.
The bandits' eyes were instantly drawn to the glossy, fatty pork. Quite a few Adam's apples bobbed as they swallowed audibly.
Their urge to fight was overwhelmed by a more immediate hunger.
The young leader's eyes lingered on the side of pork and the five sacks of grain for a moment. Then he cast a cold glance at the Chen Family's forces, who stood ready in formation—especially the hunter holding a bow.
That hunter posed a great threat to him. If they remained deadlocked, he might be injured too.