The world, as Yang Qiang sees it, runs on two things: sharp blades and hard fists. With grit and muscle, he pr…
The world, as Yang Qiang sees it, runs on two things: sharp blades and hard fists. With grit and muscle, he protects his siblings and defends his turf.
One day, he and his crew robbed a group of merchants. They were just getting ready to celebrate with meat and wine when an old refugee wrapped in tattered rags stumbled in.
Yang Qiang was annoyed. He got up, ready to teach the old man a lesson for stirring up trouble on his mountain. But then the man spoke, and his words landed like a rock to the chest.
"The invaders have taken Luancheng," the old man said. "How long do you think you can hold this mountain? Sooner or later, you and your siblings are next."
For the first time in his life, the wine in his hand lost its appeal. A cold feeling crept over him.
His mountain. His territory. The invaders were coming for it, for his home, for his brother and sister.
"Who do they think they are?" He jumped to his feet and smashed the wine bowl on the ground. The three siblings exchanged a glance, no words needed, just a shared understanding.
"Let's go meet those dogs," he said. "I'll show them whose blade is sharper."