The Midsummer Wind Was a Little Boisterous

Even the wind was scorching in midsummer Fenlai City.

Cast Iron Alley was like a giant steamer, white vapor rising from the quenching barrels outside every shop. Loa held a hammer in one hand and struck the glowing iron bar on the anvil—he was repairing the damaged sections of Old Dao's chain mail. Each strike landed precisely, scattering fine sparks. A few fell on his bare forearm, leaving tiny red marks that quickly faded.

He was a Bronze Rank mercenary now.

The badge hung on the wall of his shed, its bronze edges polished bright with wear. His promotion test had been twenty days ago. The examiner, a one-armed veteran, had made him face three Rank 2 Warriors at once in the training yard. Loa had used no tricks, only the most basic footwork and thrusts. Within the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, all three were down.

He had gone from Gray Iron to Bronze in less than three months. That was fast among low-ranking mercenaries, but it had not attracted much attention-the Royal Capital had no shortage of young people fighting desperately to climb higher.

Clang!

The final hammer blow fell. Freshly forged iron rings filled the hole in the chain mail, the joins as smooth as before. Loa lifted the section with tongs and plunged it into a bucket. It hissed, and white steam billowed up.

"Your workmanship's improving."

Bob leaned against the doorframe, rubbing a whetstone along his short dagger. The old blacksmith had grown a little more talkative lately, though he was still as gruff as ever.

"Thirty percent of Old Dao's payment went toward materials," Loa said, wiping away his sweat. "He said he'd come to me next time he needed repairs."

"That slippery bastard knows what he's doing." Bob snorted. "Any shop out there would charge him at least five silver coins for a repair like that. Paying you thirty percent for materials and owing you a favor saves him half the cost overall."

Loa smiled without answering. He knew Bob was right, but although Old Dao counted every penny, he never undermined anyone on a job and never hung back when it was time to charge. That was enough.

Over the past two months, he had accompanied Old Dao on four escort jobs. The latest had involved escorting a medicinal herb caravan north to Graystone Town. They had run into a wolf pack along the way—not ordinary wild wolves, but genuine rank 1 magical beasts, Wind Wolves. Eleven of them. The caravan guards and mercenaries numbered only eight, and the battle had been brutal.

Loa still remembered the thrust he had instinctively made when a Wind Wolf knocked a guard down and lunged for his throat. In that instant, the qi had surged like boiling water from his dantian straight into his right arm, his sword tip moving so fast it left an afterimage. By the time he came to his senses, his sword had pierced the wolf's skull, and the warm current of qi in his dantian had clearly grown a full measure stronger.

He had naturally reached mid-stage Rank 3 Warrior.

"Did those materials sell?" Bob suddenly asked.

Loa nodded. He had asked Old Dao to check with a black-market broker. Materials from rank 1 magical beasts sold for anywhere from one silver coin to one gold coin, depending on their attributes (the currency conversion in this book was 1 gold = 10 silver = 100 copper); rank 2 materials fetched at least five gold coins; magical cores began appearing in rank 3 magical beasts, and even one with a common attribute could sell for ten gold coins or more. Rare lightning, light, and Dark Element attributes could multiply the price several times over.

As for magical beast cubs? They had a price, but none were available. Noble lords liked keeping them as pets or battle beasts. Even at an asking price of over a thousand gold coins, people would scramble to buy a healthy rank 1 magical beast cub.

General Principles of Battle-qi and Body Tempering costs fifty gold coins. Loa thought of that.

I'd still have to kill five rank 3 magical beasts, and be lucky enough for them to drop magical cores. (An additional setting detail: not all magical beasts had magical cores.)

"Yeah."

"How much have you saved?"

Loa walked to the corner of the shed and pulled a small leather pouch from a crack in the wall. He poured out its contents and counted them: twenty-three gold coins, forty-seven silver coins, and a pile of coppers.

Bob glanced at them. "Saved all that from smithing?"

"Kid, don't you already have battle-qi inside you? What do you need to buy that thing for?"

"To broaden my horizons."

Bob did not understand how young people thought these days. Wouldn't that money be better spent on equipment rather than a useless book? Maybe that was how geniuses thought.

"Half from smithing, half from jobs." Loa put the money away. "Old Dao said there's a big job next month, escorting a shipment of ore back from Black Marsh Town out west. Ten days there and back, with the pay split per person. We should each get five to eight gold coins."

"Black Marsh Town..." Bob frowned. "That place borders the marshes. Plenty of insects and poisonous miasma, and the roads aren't too safe either."

"That's why the pay's high."

Bob stared at him for a while, then waved him off. "Suit yourself. If you die out there, don't expect me to collect your body."

His words were harsh, but at dinner that evening, Bob put an extra piece of salted pork into his bowl.

Three days later, Loa met Old Dao at the Packhorse and Ale inn in the south of the city. Four others had come as well.

"You've met Scarface." Old Dao pointed to the scarred middle-aged man. "Iron Tower, who uses a two-handed axe, Hawk, who handles a short crossbow, and this one—" He stepped aside to reveal the person behind him.

It was a woman. She looked twenty-five or twenty-six, wore close-fitting leather armor, and carried two slender swords at her waist, one long and one short. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail. She nodded to Loa without speaking.

"Shadow Snake, a Rank 4 Warrior," Old Dao said quietly. "The client specifically asked for a fast enough scout for this job, so I made a point of hiring her."

Rank 4. Loa gave her another look. The woman had an air of detachment, like a sheathed sword whose danger could not be sensed until it was drawn.

"We're escorting cargo for the Blackrock Merchant Guild this time." Old Dao spread out a crude map. "Thirty wagonloads of black iron ore from Black Marsh Town. It isn't far, but there are three difficult stretches: the muddy road out of Black Marsh Town, Shatterbone Gorge midway through, and the last fifty li of open ground near Fenlai City. That's a hot spot for bandit attacks."

"How many people?" Loa asked.

"The caravan has twenty guards of its own, led by a Rank 2 Warrior. That'll do. The six of us will handle anything unexpected, with particular attention to Shatterbone Gorge and the open ground." Old Dao tapped the map. "Usual rules. Follow my orders on the road, and we go in together if anything happens. Whoever contributes the most gets the biggest share of the spoils. Speak up now if you object."

No one spoke. In the mercenary trade, strength and experience determined whose word carried weight. Old Dao had organized the job, Shadow Snake held the highest rank, and the rest would be judged by their abilities.

"Meet at the south gate at four tomorrow morning." Old Dao put away the map. "Bring your own dry rations, medicine, and backup weapons. Let's get the unpleasant part out of the way—if anyone dies on this job, the death benefit comes out of the total pay, as per the trade rules. If you don't want to die, check your gear tonight."

It was still dark when they set out.

Outside the south gate, thirty wagons loaded with ore formed a long line, their axles rumbling dully over the stone-paved road. The caravan leader was a bald man with a brutish face called Ironhead, who was berating several slow-moving guards.

Old Dao and the five others kept ten zhang away from the convoy. This was customary among mercenaries—it let them react quickly to an attack while keeping them separate from the employer's men, avoiding confusion over command.

The first day passed without incident. They traveled eighty li along the main road and camped at dusk on a slope near water. Loa took the first watch, sitting on a rock at the edge of camp with his sword in his arms.

The summer night breeze carried the scent of wild grass. Unidentified insects called in the distance, their cries rising and falling. He circulated the qi inside him, letting it flow slowly throughout his body-a method he had worked out himself, which kept him alert while also serving as a form of training.

When the watch changed in the latter half of the night, Shadow Snake appeared soundlessly behind him.

"Firelight three li to the northwest," she said. "Not a campfire. Torches, about five or six. Moving slowly."

Loa instantly became fully alert. "Bandits?"

"Doesn't look like it." Shadow Snake looked in that direction. "The torches are too bright for anyone planning a sneak attack. Could be another caravan, or... scouts."

She reported it to Old Dao. He considered it for a moment. "Double the watch. Everyone else rests as usual. We'll leave at first light tomorrow and try to avoid them."

Yet at noon the next day, they were stopped anyway.

It happened at the entrance to Shatterbone Gorge-a narrow passage over two hundred zhang long, with steep rock walls on both sides. At its narrowest, only two wagons could pass abreast.

A group blocked the entrance. There were about fifteen or sixteen of them, dressed haphazardly, but all carried standard-issue swords and sabers. Their leader was a burly one-eyed man with a broad-bladed cleaver resting on his shoulder.

"This road was opened by me-" The one-eyed man got only halfway through his cry.

"Opened by your mother!" Ironhead had already drawn his saber and charged. The caravan guards swarmed after him.

A melee broke out instantly.

Loa and Old Dao's other four companions did not immediately join the fighting. Instead, they protected several wagons in the middle of the convoy, which carried the highest-purity ore and which their employer had specifically instructed them to safeguard.

Sure enough, another seven or eight men sprang from behind piles of loose rocks along the cliffs, heading straight for those wagons.

"Go!" Old Dao drew his short saber.

Loa met a man wielding a chain flail. The swinging flail whipped through the air, extremely difficult to dodge in the narrow terrain. He retreated three steps in succession. The flail struck the ground, scattering broken stone.

Now! There was a momentary delay as the man pulled the flail back. Loa stepped forward and thrust at the wrist holding the chain. The man reacted quickly, releasing his grip and retreating as the flail flew free.

But Loa's sword did not stop. His wrist flicked, and the sword tip rose, thrusting straight into the man's throat.

Blood sprayed.

Nearby, Shadow Snake had already finished off two opponents. Her sword truly resembled a snake: cunning and swift, always striking vital points from incredible angles. Her strength as a Rank 4 Warrior was on full display. Ordinary bandits could not last three exchanges against her.

The battle lasted the time it took an incense stick to burn. The bandits left six or seven corpses behind, and the survivors fled into the mountains. Five caravan guards were wounded, none fatally.

Ironhead cursed as he assessed the losses, while Old Dao crouched beside the one-eyed man's body and searched it. At last, he found a small cloth pouch containing a dozen or so gold coins and some odds and ends.

"Let's split it." Old Dao poured out the gold coins. Each of the six received a little over two.

Shadow Snake refused hers. "Dead men's money. Bad luck."

"Then I'll keep your share for wine." Old Dao had no qualms about it.

They continued on their way. As they passed through Shatterbone Gorge, Loa looked up at the rock walls on either side. Sunlight slipped through the gaps, casting dappled light and shadows across the gorge floor. During the battle, when he had delivered that final thrust, the qi in his arm had flowed a little faster again.

Sure enough, the pressure of life and death was the best whetstone.

Seven days later, the convoy reached Fenlai City safely.

Once the cargo was handed over, the Blackrock Merchant Guild's steward promptly paid them. Six gold coins each, one more than expected-because they had driven off the bandits and protected the high-purity ore.

By the time Loa returned to the Blacksmith Shop with his new gold coins, it was already dark. Bob was banking the forge. He turned at the sound. "Made it back alive?"

"Yeah."

"Any injuries?"

"A few scrapes."

Bob turned around and examined him in the faint glow of the forge. After a long while, he finally grunted through his nose. "Good to have you back."

Loa nodded.

Bob turned and headed inside. "Get to bed. There's another batch of farm tools to make tomorrow. Oversleep again and I'm docking your wages."

Inside the shed, Loa put his newly earned gold coins into the leather pouch. He now had twenty-nine gold coins.

Another twenty-one gold, and I can buy that General Principles of Battle-qi. Hopefully it'll have a few pleasant surprises for me. The qi inside me circulates too rigidly right now. Back when I studied in my previous life, there weren't any qi circulation diagrams involving meridians or anything like that either. Let's see how this world handles it.

He lay on the wooden plank bed, listening to the insects outside his window on the summer night. Three months ago, he had still been risking his life for a few silver coins. Now, he had reached the threshold of systematic training.

Autumn was drawing closer.

I wonder how Linley's doing.

Loa closed his eyes.

In his dreams, he seemed to hear the hammering of iron, one blow after another, ringing through the scorching midsummer.