Chapter One: Robbery

　　Adam Brooks is only fourteen or fifteen years old, yet he’s already been a seasoned bandit for six or seven years.

　　His father, Brian Brooks, was once the seventh chieftain of Tianma Mountain. On one occasion, while descending the mountain to rob travelers, he ran into tough opponents and was “punished for evil” by a group of young martial heroes—stabbed nine times and died a miserable death.

　　At that time, Adam Brooks was only eight years old. He still remembers his father being carried up the mountain, covered in blood. He rushed over, only knowing how to cry, and through gritted teeth swore to avenge his father. The main chieftain, “Heroic,” took him in on the spot as his first disciple, promised to teach him martial arts, and soothed the rest of the bandits.

　　But without his father’s support, Adam Brooks soon found his status in the stronghold plummeting. Not only did he get a lot of cold stares, but he was also often ordered around and treated like a servant.

　　Fortunately, Adam Brooks’s late mother had been a young lady from a wealthy family, though she was kidnapped and forced to marry his father. She had taught him to read and many principles of conduct. Adam Brooks himself was clever; instead of stubbornly clinging to his identity as the late seventh chieftain’s orphan and the main chieftain’s “personal disciple,” he quickly adapted and changed his attitude. No matter who ordered him around, he always responded cheerfully. Relying on his quick wit and diligence, he managed to survive tenaciously in this den of thieves.

　　The main chieftain of Tianma Mountain, nicknamed Black Whirlwind, had studied martial arts at the Iron Bone Sect in his youth and was highly skilled. However, after taking Adam Brooks as a disciple, he soon forgot about it. But Adam Brooks, born in a bandit’s den, knew the importance of martial arts. He often went to the main chieftain’s room to serve tea and clean up, and whenever the chieftain was in a good mood, he would ask for some pointers.

　　The main chieftain still had some sense of loyalty. Occasionally, when he was in high spirits, he would teach Adam Brooks a couple of moves. Every time Adam Brooks learned something, he would practice it desperately in private. After five or six years, he had managed to train the Iron Bone Technique to about thirty or forty percent proficiency. In addition, he secretly learned from the other leaders in the stronghold and came up with his own makeshift saber technique. It couldn’t be called anything formidable, but after years of living on the edge, licking blood from the blade, he had become ruthless and tough at a young age—he could easily cut down three or five grown men in an instant.

　　After such slow grinding, Adam Brooks actually rose from an ordinary underling to a minor leader. Some time ago, when one of the Tianma Mountain chieftains was killed in a turf war with another gang, the main chieftain casually promoted Adam Brooks, making him the new seventh chieftain—following in his father’s footsteps.

　　This was Adam Brooks’s first time leading the underlings out on a “job” by himself. He was used to such bloody affairs and wasn’t nervous at all—just a bit impatient since the target hadn’t shown up yet.

　　The gang had been lying in ambush on the mountain for half a day when they finally saw dust rising in the distance on the main road. Everyone thought to themselves, “A fat sheep is coming.” These were all seasoned bandits; just by looking at the dust, they could tell it was a caravan, and there must be plenty of goods.

　　Suddenly, Adam Brooks felt the urge to pee, so he shouted, “You all go down first, I’ll be right behind you.” The bandits dared not disobey Adam Brooks’s orders. They hollered and charged down the mountain. Bandits didn’t care much for tactics anyway—they relied on numbers, so it didn’t matter much if someone was leading or not.

　　Adam Brooks found a secluded spot, pulled down his pants, and relieved himself with great satisfaction. He’d drunk several ladles of water that morning, so this stream of boy’s urine was especially copious, soaking a patch of grass three or four steps wide before he finally finished. Grabbing his steel saber, Adam Brooks was just about to fasten his belt when he shouted, “Here I come!” He quickly tied his belt and strode down the mountain. By the time he reached the main road, the Tianma Mountain bandits were already fighting the caravan’s guards.

　　Seeing his own men had the upper hand, Adam Brooks thought, “It’s my first time leading a raid—I have to make a good haul. No need to rush into the fight; let’s see if there’s any good loot I can claim first!”

　　He gripped his saber and headed straight for the back of the caravan, lifting the curtains of several large carts in a row but finding nothing. Only in the last carriage did he see someone lying inside. The person seemed badly injured. When he saw Adam Brooks, he tried to raise his hand, but moving must have aggravated his wounds—he spat out a mouthful of blood and, before Adam Brooks could draw his saber, collapsed and died.

　　Adam Brooks was sprayed in the face with blood and thought in surprise, “Could it be that after all these years in Tianma Stronghold, I’ve developed such a bandit’s aura that just seeing me scared this guy to death? Well, since you saved me the trouble, I’ll leave your body intact…” Even though the man died on his own, Adam Brooks counted the kill as his own. He thought to himself, “This uncle had a good appearance—imposing and dignified. Too bad he fell into the hands of me, Big Boss Brooks. Even a hero can only blame his own bad luck. Let’s see what he’s got on him!”