I made a mental note to strangle whatever romance I had left in me. Cultivators, as a rule, are not dependent on external tools. I could have jogged out into the desert myself. Instead, I had allowed romantic notions of the American frontier to goad me into asking to borrow Old Chen’s horse.

Swift, that was her name. A dishevelled, flatulent animal, who judging by her top speed was named for ironic purposes. Old Chen claimed that he rode into town on her years ago and that she was, in his words, “the finest companion and steed a man could ask for.”

Well, at least the story had the advantage of accurately reflecting her age. Swift’s coat was a drab brown speckled with more grey hairs than a horse usually acquired from old age. As for Old Chen’s other claims, I could honestly say I had never met a less agreeable, mulish mare in both my lives.

We had stopped next to the trail because Swift had found some dry unappetizing scrubs to munch on. I had plenty of grain to feed her in my saddle bags and the dry twigs could not offer much sustenance. Try as I might though, I could not coax the stubborn beast onward.

The area surrounding Asani was not a true desert. It was full of rocky outcroppings and dry gullies. The true desert only started when you descended the escarpment. There were a number of nomadic tribes that wandered the sands. Those tribes were the prey of the Brilliant Mountain gang. The gang made camp somewhere up in the crevices of the escarpment and periodically descended to raid tents and steal goats.

They were not exactly Machiavellian masterminds, but the gang’s members were some of the empire’s real scum. Generally, only cultivators despised by the rest of society made their way this far south. Rogue cultivators who were not tolerated in towns and sect cultivators who had been disgraced were driven down here as functional exiles.

There was one advantage that Swift’s lacklustre presence gave me. Nobody would believe I was here on any kind of official business. My torn and blood-stained army coat also did not inspire confidence in my good character.

From what I knew about the gang I could spend a few weeks hunting them down one by one terminator style and exterminate the whole bunch of them. That however would be a supreme waste of time. It also would not reveal anything about their guilt or innocence as related to the Baked Moon massacre. I was going to have to infiltrate them as a deserter from the army.

Swift gave a soft neigh before farting, and once again beginning her ramble. I had given up directing her. With time the gang would find me, or at least that had been my plan. With night approaching I would need to make camp. Maybe a fire would attract their attention.

Swift meandered over to a conspicuous pair of sharp rocks. The pillars of stone bookended the entrance to a valley that ran down for several minutes before taking a sharp turn. The valley would make for a perfect ambush position.

Admiring Swift for her wisdom, I gave her neck a pat before getting my Qi into motion. With the heightening of my hearing, I picked up a conversation coming from the entrance to the valley, “…stopped again. I’m telling you he knows we are here. Why else would he be so hesitant?”

An aggressive whisper responded, “Quiet you idiot. If he doesn’t know we are here, he certainly will if you keep talking. What happened to the sign language I taught you?”

The first voice gave a harrumph and grumbled, “It is beneath a cultivator to be so cowardly that he does not even use his own voice we he speaks. Only an untrained vagabond like you would remember such a method.”

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The second voice growled, “Say that again, you preening fool. You are here waiting to ambush a man for his horse same as me.”

“There is a difference, old man, between a noble individual who is down on his luck and a born rat like you,” said the second voice. He had abandoned any attempt to be quiet.

I heard a bellow and suddenly two wrestling men rolled out in front of me. One was an old man dressed in a selection of tattered rags. The other man, well boy more than man, looked no older than fifteen. The boy was in the process of having his finely combed hair put into disarray.

The old man had managed to grapple the boy into a tight lock with one arm around his neck and the other tousling his hair. “How do you like that you popinjay? You are in the desert now you better get used to roughing it.”

I continued to watch them for a while with my hands resting on the pommel of my saddle. Swift had found a patch of grass and was chewing methodically while staring blankly at the idiots in front of us.

Eventually, I sighed and infusing a bit of Qi into my breath, I gave a sharp whistle. The dynamic duo immediately separated and drew their swords in a belated attempt to look intimidating. I placed them both in the middle of the foundation establishment stage.

The old man gave a showy wave of his blade and said, “It’s your bad luck friend. You have chosen to accept your fate instead of running when you had the chance. Now the Brilliant Mountain gang is upon you!”

I gave the man a sceptical look and asked, “You two are part of the brilliant mountain gang? The heavens truly have cursed me.”

The boy piped in with a squeaky voice, “That’s right we own this bit of land. Leave your horse and pay the toll and maybe we will let you live.”

I looked down at Swift and mused, “What do you think Swift? A life with this pair is bound to be more exciting than hanging around Old Chen’s workshop.”

Swift snorted and kicked some dirt in their direction with her front hooves. I looked back up and shrugged, “Sorry she says she is not interested. I on the other hand was interested in joining your little band of merry men. After seeing you though, maybe I will just carry on riding south. There must be something beyond the arid sands."

The old man puffed up his chest in defiance and fumed, “We don’t just let any ragamuffin who rides join our ranks. First, you have to prove…”

I let his voice fade into the background as I drew my pistol. The clicking sound of the hammer reverberated around the landscape and time slowed. I casually took aim at a stone above the old man’s head and fired. The bullet went clean through the stone and made a head-sized crater in the dirt behind it.

The boy turned around wild-eyed and gulped when he saw the hole. The old man, on the other hand, held my gaze. His breathing was steady, but his knees were shaking. That close he would have felt the strength and density of the Qi that composed the bullet.

He wet the inside of his mouth before croaking, “Well that should be sufficient proof of your strength. I have to ask though, who are you and why do you want to join the gang? Leader Wen would kill me if I brought back just anybody.”

The boy’s eyes widened impossibly further as he gave the old man an incredulous stare. To put them a little at ease I swung down from Swift's back. I was reminded that I needed new boots when I felt a pebble slip into my shoe as my feet made contact with the ground.

I balanced one leg as I took my boot off to shake the annoyance free. “Well,” I began, “my name is Sun Wei. I was kicked out of His Imperial Majesty’s army for gross insubordination. Unsatisfied with that punishment my general decided to have me killed. I have been running from his assassins for weeks. Finally, I gave them the slip because nobody wants to come down south to this heaven’s forsaken dirt farm. Not even, it turns out well-paid assassins. I heard about your gang of hoodlums from a peddler. I thought to myself well what choice do I have? I am going to be stuck here for however many centuries it takes that bastard to forget I exist.”

The exasperation and irritation in my voice must have been convincing because the old man said, “Well friend my name is Lao Gen and I only have one question. What did you do to piss off the general?”

I flashed him a sheepish smile and replied, “I slept with his daughter.”

Lao Gen burst into laughter and wiping away tears hooted, “Oh you’re going to fit in well around here.”