Shi Qingjue felt as though he were riding on the back of a huge, raging bull. To outsiders, it looked as if the monk had the beast under control. Only he knew how unsteady his position was. Even if he made no mistakes, he could still be thrown off for no reason and smashed to pieces.
He cautiously ingratiated himself with the Iron Mountain brothers, eagerly offering plans and advice, yet he won over only a tiny handful. Below the chieftains, the Iron Mountain bandits still each had their own designs. They all wanted to return to the freewheeling life of outlaws, but there was fierce disagreement over whom to offend and whom to appease between the Dragon King and the Unrivaled King—so fierce that blades could be drawn at any moment.
Shi Qingjue didn't even dare reveal where the Unrivaled King was being held. After they made camp, more than a dozen tents were guarded closely by the bandits, who kept watch over one another and allowed no one inside. Only the monk knew which tent held the Unrivaled King.
He trusted no one except Gao Yang, who was paralyzed with broken bones. But his "good brother" was little use beyond taking the wine for him.
Gao Yang's cheeks were flushed. He burped and said to Shi Qingjue, who was peering out from the tent entrance, "You can stop looking. If you want to know what the bandits are thinking, just ask me. I... er... used to be in the business. Iron Mountain just has more people, that's all."
Gao Yang liked to brag. Shi Qingjue guessed he'd probably only belonged to some small gang of a dozen or so men, but he lowered the tent flap anyway. "I have a feeling tonight won't be peaceful. The Dragon King