Life is full of choices — which school to attend, which job to take, which lover to chase — and every one of them is hard. But add up the difficulty of all those choices together, and it still doesn't hold a candle to a choice between life and death. Like the one Wuchang was facing now.
Smith Pan and Lane were holding off the mysterious man with their own lives. The power of two Phalanxes was no joke; even a fourth-dan martial artist who was also an Outlier could not dodge a Phalanx at that range.
Lane and Boss Pan were no saints, and they didn't want to die either. But they were men with an elite education, and they knew how to make a call in a tight spot. As they saw it, buying Wuchang a way out was the best move left on the board. If they didn't, nobody in the squad would live.
"Wuchang, I'm begging you, just go, stop hesitating…" Lane's voice was close to tears, but Wuchang still had not moved an inch, his eyes fixed on the mysterious man.
Everyone there assumed Wuchang was too loyal to leave them, and Wuchang was indeed loyal. But loyalty wasn't the only reason he wouldn't go. It was, rather, that his eyes had caught on something very familiar.
"…among thieves…" The words slipped out of Wuchang's mouth before he knew it, leaving Lane and Boss Pan utterly baffled.
Wuchang said them while staring at the mysterious man, and the moment they left his mouth, the man's expression changed. Because those were exactly the words tattooed on his right shoulder.
The flames had burned away the fabric over the man's right shoulder, exposing the tattoo on his skin. Tattoos were common as dirt in this world, but this one struck Wuchang like a thunderbolt.
"Is it 'honor among thieves'? Tell me — the character that's covered on your shoulder, is it 'thief'? Put it together and it reads 'honor among thieves'…"
That one sentence left the mysterious man astonished. "That's right — but how do you know it? Don't tell me you know what the phrase means?"
"What it means? Heh, of course I know."
Wuchang's gaze went a little glassy, and the words came out on their own.
"One of Dao Zhi's followers asked him, 'Do robbers too have their Way?' Zhi said, 'Where is there anywhere without a Way? To guess what is stored in a room — that is sagacity. To go in first — that is courage. To come out last — that is righteousness. To know whether it can be done — that is wisdom. To divide the take evenly — that is benevolence. Without these five, no one under heaven has ever become a great robber.'"
The words that slipped out of Wuchang left all three of them dumbstruck. Honestly, not one of them had understood what it meant, but it clearly meant something — and the name at the very beginning, Dao Zhi, struck them all speechless.
Everyone except Wuchang knew that Dao Zhi was a top-tier powerhouse of Fallen Star, the king of the space pirates, a figure out of legend.
Legend had it that Dao Zhi had single-handedly unified the whole chaotic expanse of Fallen Star and laid down a code for pirates across the universe. Ever since, pirates had become the darlings of art and song; their spirit of adventure even inspired blind worship in the younger generation.
"Dao Zhi? You mean the God of Pirates, Boss Dao Zhi? You know Boss Dao Zhi?" The man's reflexive question gave away his true identity.
"You're from Fallen Star? You're a pirate?" Lane and Boss Pan said in unison.
With his identity exposed, the mysterious man stopped playing the brooding master and smiled bitterly. "This is my first trip to Huang'e, and it's already given me a lesson I'll never forget. A refugee miner turns out to be a third-dan martial artist and an Outlier — I'd never have guessed it in a million years…"
"What's even funnier is that on Huang'e — the most notorious den of crime in the Horsehead Star Ring — I run into genuine friendship, and giving, and self-sacrifice. What a goddamn cosmic joke that is…"
Dao Zhi's name worked like a magic wand. One light wave of it, and the hostility that had filled the air a moment ago was gone. What replaced it was an odd, unspoken mutual respect.
Wuchang stepped forward a few paces and said to the mysterious man, "Anyone who believes in honor among thieves — even a real pirate — must be a pirate with a bottom line. And a man with a bottom line is worth knowing."
"My name is Wuchang. May I ask your honorable name?"
Seeing the gravity on Wuchang's face, the man straightened his own expression. "None of that 'honorable' business — I'm Minghe."
Once the two had exchanged names, even a fool could feel the hostility drain away. At that moment, Lane's and Boss Pan's fingers on the firing switches relaxed without their noticing.
The Wuchang of this moment showed none of his usual muddle. He seemed to have a natural gift for dealing with pirates, every sentence landing right on the mark, which astonished Minghe and the others.
"Could Wuchang really have been a pirate before he lost his memory?" Boss Pan leaned close to Lane's ear and whispered. Then the two of them remembered, at the same moment, the fake identity the tattoo artist had cooked up for Wuchang.
"Fallen Star, a pirate — looks like that identity we made up off the top of our heads might just be real. We've made complete fools of ourselves, treating Wuchang like an idiot."
Wuchang and Minghe paid no attention to the two muttering behind them. The negotiation had reached a critical point.
"Mr. Minghe, you're a pirate, and pirates chase profit — you're not a bloodthirsty lunatic. Every strike you make, every man you kill, has a reason behind it. Clearly there's no hatred between you and us, so a revenge killing is out of the question."
"If it isn't revenge, the only explanation left is that we might expose your identity — in other words, you're on a secret mission. Oh, you can rest easy. We have no interest in poking at your secrets. Frankly, we're being hunted ourselves right now; we can barely keep our own heads above water."
Here Wuchang paused for a breath. "Mr. Minghe, since there's no conflict between us, and out of my respect for what you are, please allow me to pay a road toll in exchange for the safety of my people…"
"Oh!" Minghe cried in surprise, and then actually laughed. "A road toll? That's the kind of money we pirates earn all the time, and your proposal fits the rules perfectly. But you people look like refugees — how much toll could you possibly pay? Don't forget, what you're buying is six lives."
"By Fallen Star rates, six lives come to at least 300 rainbow coins. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll give you a discount — 200 rainbow coins. Can you produce that…"
Before Minghe could finish, a white, foam-wrapped rod was thrust into his face. "An eight-centimeter rainbow crystal — is that enough for our six lives?"
The foam-wrapped rod that had appeared out of nowhere stopped Minghe's mouth dead. The mockery on his face vanished in an instant, leaving only gravity and shock.
On Huang'e, the official purchase price of an eight-centimeter rainbow crystal was only a hundred-odd rainbow coins. But it should be remembered that Huang'e is where rainbow crystals come from, so prices here are the lowest anywhere. Add the layers of skimming by officials and merchants, and that hundred coins was already the scraps left after the plunder.
An eight-centimeter rainbow crystal already met the standard for building a heavy transport, and heavy transports were the hulls Fallen Star pirates loved most to modify — the main model in any pirate fleet. Truthfully, a crystal like this delivered to Fallen Star would fetch at least 2,000 rainbow coins at auction.
"Enough — more than enough." Where was the master's dignity now? You could have believed he was a greedy merchant.
Who knows why — maybe the earlier talk of honor among thieves had given him a bit of professional pride — but Minghe suddenly turned serious and spoke to Wuchang.
"This crystal is far too precious. If I took it as a road toll, I'd be a profiteer. Understand, I am an honorable pirate, not a greedy profiteer. I insist on giving you your change…"
With that, Minghe started patting himself down, hunting for anything of value, but after a long while he came up with nothing suitable.
"Damn it," Minghe swore, and slung the dragon-hide pack off his back onto the ground. "This is a full set of Bayonet field gear — food, fuel, medicine, weapons. I figure you'll be needing it. It still doesn't cover the difference, but I can write you an IOU."
And he actually started looking for paper to write one. In the end Wuchang stopped him. "Don't bother. Whether there's an IOU on paper doesn't matter. If you really count me as a friend, write the IOU in your heart."
"Good — that's the spirit, that's real loyalty. You're a friend for life." Then Minghe dug some wound medicine out of the pack and began treating their injuries.
The wound medicine Bayonet issues for the field is highly effective on the internal and external injuries that war or a beating leaves behind. Wild Bull's organs had been concussed; after only two red pills, the congestion was drawn out of him — the moment he vomited two big mouthfuls of dark red blood, his complexion improved markedly.
And not just Wild Bull: everyone present had their wounds treated, and Minghe's deft hands were unforgettable. It wasn't until the sky began to lighten and a new day came creeping in that they finally finished, gathering around a simple breakfast.
Minghe pulled a brand-new breathing apparatus out of his pack and handed it to Wuchang. "When we fought last night, I already found your weak spot. Your breathing is a serious problem — you never seem able to get enough oxygen. That constraint is severe, and it's already holding back your fighting."
"This is Bayonet's newest breathing mask. It filters well, and four micro-oxygenators inside feed outside air in continuously. I won't oversell it — put this on and your combat strength goes up at least twenty percent."
This was a treasure, and exactly what Wuchang needed most. Once he had the new mask fitted, a comfort he had never known flowed from his lungs out through his whole body; the breathing problem that had dogged him for so long was finally solved.
"I won't thank you — this thing really is useful." After studying the mask a while, Wuchang suddenly asked, "You keep saying the word 'Outlier.' Can you tell me what an Outlier is?"
That question earned him a huge eye-roll from Minghe. "You don't even know what an Outlier is? Who taught you martial arts? Didn't your master ever go over the basics with you?"
Minghe's retort made everyone turn to look at Lane, who squirmed. "Why are you all looking at me? He's not my disciple. What kind of look is that? Like I'm some horribly irresponsible person."
"Tch." Everyone gave him the same look, and the look said plainly: you are an irresponsible person.