On a tree-covered mountain about twenty or so zhang high, a small settlement of just twenty or thirty households was hidden. From the center of the settlement came the sounds of rushing wind—youngsters were practicing martial arts.
A burly man walked among them, occasionally correcting those practicing incorrectly.
Suddenly, a small, slender young man wearing a cloak woven from grass ran in from outside the village, a joyful expression on his face. He reported eagerly to the burly man: "Big Boss! Big Boss! Great news! A carriage has come down the mountain, and only an old servant is riding it—this is definitely a fat target!"
"Focus on your training!" the burly man bellowed, glaring at the youth. "Just delivering news doesn't mean making a scene. You shout, and now the whole stronghold knows."
He led the young man aside to a pavilion. By now, the other able-bodied men had gathered around, leaving only a tall, lean, middle-aged man staggering forward, holding a large wine gourd. He hiccupped with every step. Seeing him, people respectfully stepped aside.
The disheveled man shuffled into the pavilion, sat opposite the hesitant burly man, leaned comfortably against a pillar, and took a large gulp from his gourd. Immediately, the aroma of wine filled the pavilion, making many of the onlookers swallow hard.
The burly man straightened, bowed respectfully, and asked solemnly: "Sir, you've heard the news too. Should we go for it?"
The middle-aged man shook his head. "I told you before, we only rob merchant carriages. That carriage—is it a merchant?"
The slender youth hesitated, then shook his head: "Doesn't look like it."
"That's my answer," said the man. If it's not a merchant, then there's no robbery.
The burly man hesitated: "Before you came, we had fewer rules. We've been robbing for over a year with no problem. We know some targets are off-limits, but only robbing merchants is too narrow. You even tell us to take only a third of the loot and leave two-thirds? We barely get enough to eat. The children in the stronghold are growing—they need food or their training will be ruined."
The middle-aged man drank again and laughed: "This world is vast. You never know if there's a martial artist inside the carriage."
Before the burly man could reply, voices rang from below the pavilion: "What's to fear? We've got over ten martial artists here! Haha!"
The man glanced disdainfully at the laughing brutes: "You? Call yourselves martial artists?"
The burly man cleared his throat, and the laughter immediately ceased.
"I know, sir, your reputation is great. You look down on those who've trained for over a decade without becoming martial artists. But to ordinary people, they can indeed be called martial artists," the burly man explained.
The middle-aged man chuckled, hiccuped, and nodded: "I only realized here that those who train for years without succeeding in foundational cultivation are called Wu Tu—martial apprentices. Haha… the martial world sure has its fun ways!"
To him, these were just self-deceptions. People weren't true martial artists but still pretended, giving themselves ridiculous titles: Wu Tu.
The onlookers, who had been cheering earlier, glared at him in anger, but sensing the subtle martial aura around him, they dared not act rashly.
The man's contempt deepened: "Fools. This is why the Dragon Martial Way, the second of the five great schools, never became mainstream. Even though the Dragon Martial Sage devoted all efforts to the Observation Method, it could only serve as a stepping stone for the later three schools. A pity, a tragedy. Even a sage—what can they do? Haha…"
He laughed loudly, drinking more until he collapsed drunk.
The burly man sighed, looking at him helplessly, and instructed the slender youth: "Monkey, help the sir to rest."
"Yes, Big Boss," said Monkey, supporting the man away.
Meanwhile, another young man who had been leading the earlier cheering hurried into the pavilion: "Big Boss! If we don't act now, the carriage will leave the area of Hǔtóu Mountain!"
The burly man hesitated, glanced at the youths in the square, then clenched his teeth: "Fine, this is our move! Let's do it!"
He acted decisively, giving orders with precision: "Niu, Ma… come with me. The rest stay behind to guard our families."
"Yes, Big Boss."
As the group approached the stronghold's gate, Monkey, anxious, ran up: "Big Boss, the sir doesn't approve. How can you go?"
Another young man scowled: "Monkey, are you from the stronghold or just serving that drunk man?"
"I… I belong to the Big Boss! If you're going, take me! I'll be at the front!" Monkey said eagerly.
The burly man frowned at the earlier troublemaker: "Old Wolf, don't disrespect the sir."
Then he reassured Monkey: "He's just a fool. Don't mind him."
Seeing Monkey ready to leap into action, the Big Boss finally decided: "Since you want to come, fine. We'll see how well you've learned the footwork from the sir."