The prerequisite for becoming bandits was having mountains. That gave them sufficient strategic depth and room to maneuver, allowing them to evade government pursuit. Otherwise, they would not be mountain bandits at all—they would be beggars kneeling at the foot of the mountain.
There were only two mountain ranges near Yang Province: the Dabie Mountains in western Anhui, and Yellow Mountain in southern Anhui. The distance to either place was not all that different. But southern Anhui would suffer terrible slaughter in the coming wars, while western Anhui would fare comparatively better.
Without leaving the theater of war, the Dabie Mountains, seven hundred li to the west, became the inevitable choice.
On the dusty road, more than twenty carts laden with goods rolled along, surrounded by hired hands and a group of burly men. Behind the caravan trailed a thin, drawn-out stream of people.
The caravan was clearly strong, so those they encountered naturally tagged along behind it. But their walking speeds differed, and they gradually fell behind, creating the scattered procession they had now.
"You four are all quite young, and you're dressed well too. Your families must have had some means. Why isn't there an adult traveling with you?"
Someone lagging behind the caravan saw the group of four following close behind and asked curiously.
Zhao Erhu led the donkey, with Liansheng seated on its back. Jiang Wuyang walked beside them, while Wang Yan held his saber across the back of his neck with both arms draped over it, swaying along as he walked.
"We can manage on our own," Jiang Wuyang replied. "Look, we all have sabers."
He patted the saber slung over his shoulder. They had bought them while resting in Chuzhou earlier. He and Erhu each had a steel saber, along with daggers to match.