The Red Tiger Mountain was an idyllic range smattered with settlements small and large. Its population, a resourceful and hardy people, lived off the land in comfort, trading away the mountain's abundant bounty for anything they lacked.

  But some years ago, a small band of bandits decided to make the mountain their home. They took shelter within the remains of a dilapidated fortress and robbed and pillaged as they pleased.

  Despite their growing wealth, over the years, the state of the fortress only worsened. Its masters, no more than a dozen strong when they had first moved in, had neither the knowhow nor the desire to fix their tattered walls.

  Of the original twelve, each one was a seasoned martial artist and not much else. Their life experience had led them to believe that even if the fortress were to be brought back to its prime, it would serve no purpose in defending against others like them, gifted in the ways of combat; no matter how tall, those walls would be scaled with ease. And so it remained in perpetual disrepair. They spared not even captive labor on those old fortifications.

  The band's original chief had abandoned them long ago, and it was his absence that brought them to such a sorry state. But still they yearned for their days of glory past. And to that end, they sought every opportunity to increase their numbers. They accepted no one without skill with arms into their ranks, but those who knew their way around weapons were welcome to join no matter their background, so long as they were willing to prove their gallantry through acts of wanton cruelty.

  They now numbered well over a hundred men, martial artists all. Though they had invited many into their ranks from all walks of life, almost all of them were brothers or cousins or sons and fathers, and so their outfit hadn't lacked for loyalty. A peculiar culture had taken root within the fraternity - any skills but those of arms were loathed and ridiculed. Even though they had the men for it, they all refused to grow their own food, make their own clothes, keep cattle, rear horses, produce weapons. They took and they took without ceasing, all to support their lavish lifestyle within the ruins.

  The locals could do nothing but endure. Though the mountain people were hardy, none among them could match the ferociousness of the Red Tiger bandits, and their martial artists were unwilling to risk their lives for the cause.

  But one day, screams resounded around the old fortress.

  "We're under attack!" Young men ran into the main hall where the twelve chieftains held their seats. "They're going through our senior brothers like they're nothing!"

  The chieftains rose, grabbing their weapons. "Who is coming?"

  "We don't know! There's at least two!"

  "Get ready to receive them!"

  The bandits scattered across the hall and prepared themselves. They all wielded a chaotic assortment of different weapons, spears and staves, swords and axes, some newly forged, some worn down by use.

  The twelve chieftains remained in the middle of the hall. They stared down the barred doors, the continuous screaming beyond them grinding down at their patience. The last one erupted right outside the hall. The heavy doors flew off their hinges from a single strike. A gargantuan monk stepped inside, a corpse at his feet, his face a mask of utter fury.

  One could never forget that demon's face after seeing it even once. Immediately, the resolve on the faces of the chieftains crumbled. They gawked at the bald man in silent stupor, until finally, the one in the center dropped to the floor and kowtowed.

  "Elder brother!" The man peeked warily from his lowered posture, still in disbelief. "Big brother Song Quan! Is it really you?"

  Hearing his words, the Sleeping Asura slowly calmed.

  "Xu Fang." He acknowledged the man. "Brothers. It's been a long time."

  The other chieftains then followed their leader to the ground.

  Xu Fang got up to his knees and began to bellow at his confused subordinates. "What are you louts doing?! This is your big chief Song Quan of the Evil Palm! Pay your respects!"

  For some of the older bandits present, the name seemed to ring a bell, and they paled and dropped down as ordered. Those younger had no choice but to reluctantly follow their elders. But their hesitation was very noticeable.

  Xu Fang began to sputter apologetically, "Big brother, please forgive them. They're young, they're stupid! They didn't recognize the face of their own grandfather! We didn't discipline them right!"

  But Song Quan paid him little heed. He strode past him towards the main seat and took his place there. It was now that the bandits took notice of a little kid tracing the giant's footsteps like a shadow. Chun De, her head now adorned by a boyish tuft of black hair, remained close by her master's side. She had shed the monk's attire, instead wearing a simple green tunic and a pair of grey pants, her sword at her hip. Her tired eyes stared at nothing in particular.

  Those of the band who still lived had already made their way to the hall. The Sleeping Asura glanced around, taking a quick headcount.

  With Song Quan's permission the bandits hesitantly rose.

  "Big brother," Xu Fang spoke up. "Have you really come back to us?"

  "Yes. I heard you were here, so I came to seek you out." He nodded. "My time in the world has taught me a valuable lesson. There is no place for me anywhere except among my brothers. It has taken me far too long to understand something so simple. I am sorry for ever leaving you!"

  The giant fell to his knees. The room was suddenly in an uproar; the twelve chieftains rushed to raise him up, urging Song Quan not to go that far, but even all together they couldn't pry him off the ground.

  Once he had finally been persuaded to return to his seat, his gesture of humility had lightened the atmosphere considerably. Drinks and food had been served for an impromptu feast, and the twelve chieftains conversed without any further reservations.

  "Big brother, ever since you left, our luck's been rancid!" Xu Fang shook his head. "When the sects realized you were gone, they came down on us hard! It was every man for himself. Only the twelve of us managed to make it out alive, or just about, I don't know. Some of our brothers might still be out there, in hiding. But this place has been kind to us, and we found many brave new brothers here.

  "And now that you're here, things are really looking up! Finally, our old luck has returned! What do we have to be afraid of anymore?! The whole world will be quaking in its boots when they hear of your return!" He cupped his hands and implored, "Big chief, please take charge of our humble fortress! Restore us to our old glory!"

  Half a dozen times the hundred bandits echoed his words as one.

  Song Quan silenced the hall with a wave of his hand.

  "If you will have me, then I will gladly resume my duties." He said.

  The room erupted into cheers. The twelve chieftains had everyone toasting for the new leadership. After they introduced every member of their band, the conversation shifted back to their leader.

  "Big brother, why are you dressed like a monk?" One of the chieftains asked. "Why are you so pale? Are you in good health?"

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  Song Quan set his wine bowl down, and for a time, his gaze bore into the table. There was an ever so slight shift in his features, darkness looming behind his eyes. He ground his teeth as an invisible pain seemed to wrack his body. The one who had asked the question suddenly grew stark white. The twelve were all too familiar with what his struggles signified. The rest of the robbers noticed the strange tension in the air and once again found themselves wary of the man who had killed his way into their hall and forced their strongest warriors to their knees. None of them dared to speak. The room grew eerily silent.

  But then Song Quan seemed to relax. The chieftains knew that disaster had narrowly passed them by.

  "During our time apart, I learned much about myself." The Sleeping Asura said. "These spells that plagued me all my life... Even during our time together, though I kept this from you brothers, I had always feared them, always regretted the havoc they would bring about. But now I realize that it is not a curse. It is a gift from the heavens. I was born with a purpose that I did not understand! And fool that I am, I nearly squandered my gift! What a waste!"

  He breathed heavily as he spoke, his agitation rising as it often had. And yet unlike those countless other times, there was a tranquility in his eyes that the men had never seen before.

  "But no more! Rest assured, brothers. What I intend to do now... It will make our previous reign look like child's play! Blood will flow like rivers! We will purify this troubled world, scour it clean, and bring about a peace that will last for all eternity!"

  The outlaws exclaimed their approval, bringing their cups up high. They heard their leader boldly challenging the world, and it stirred the ambition within their greedy hearts. They cared not for his choice of words.

  After a while, Xu Fang finally deigned to ask, "Boss, who's that little brother by your side?"

  "This is Chun De." Song Quan said, resting his sizable hand atop her head. "She is like a daughter to me. She is like a devil with the sword and saber, and will fit right in among the brothers."

  His words shifted the atmosphere within the hall, quieting most of the band. Evidently, all of them had held the belief that Chun De was a boy. Xu Fang smiled and curtly nodded to her in greeting before promptly turning his eyes away.

  After a strenuous pause, the discontent had finally spilled over.

  "Was that a joke, chief Song Quan?" A young man at the far end of the table was unable to let the matter slide. The men beside him gestured and shook their heads, trying to subtly goad him into dropping the matter. But the young man would not be pacified. He sprang from his seat, yelling, "How can the rest of you stand this?! Welcoming a little girl into our ranks? We'll be the laughing stock of the entire jianghu! Nobody's gonna respect us!"

  "Sit down, Luo Fan!" A middle-aged man beside him rose and tried to push him back into his seat, but still the youngster wouldn't budge. "Always with that mouth of yours! I don't care if you're my son, sit down or this time I swear I'll beat you to death!"

  But still Luo Fan persisted. "If I let this slide, who'd call me a man anymore? And what good would my life be then?! I can't live like that! Beat me to death or don't, it's all the same! Calling a little girl my brother? I've never heard of anything more ridiculous! As if the rest of you don't feel the same!"

  The outlaws silently observed their argument, but none dared to say a word. And their inaction rendered the scene all the more peculiar: disobeying the chiefs was an unpardonable offense, and yet as they glanced at each other, not one among them was in a hurry to admonish the young man.

  The chiefs knew that the men were in agreement, and were simply unable to show it.

  Song Quan tensed, veins bulging out on his bald head.

  Chun De finally lifted up her big eyes. It was as though she only now began to pay any heed to her surroundings. She clenched her teeth; wrath disfigured her youthful face. Her hand clutched her sword, rattling it in its sheath.

  "You can't live with it?" Chun De hissed. "Then die!"

  Song Quan glimpsed at her, and immediately his oncoming bout seemed to be dispelled. He and Xu Fang exchanged a glance. Song Quan nodded.

  The outlaws gave them space. From the circle they formed around the two, someone tossed Luo Fan his spear.

  Chun De rushed at him like a woman possessed. At some point she had drawn her weapon. Luo Fan drew back, realizing he had already missed the chance to catch her charge at the tip of his spear. Instead he shifted his stance and readied to receive her blow.

  Luo Fan caught it onto his spear, but it came down upon him with far more weight than he had anticipated. His footing turned uneven, and he tarried for a precious moment too long. Chun De's sharp blade slid down the pole, severing the fingers of his right hand. Her mad charge still held some momentum behind it, and she thrust her weapon into his stomach, and drew closer still, her head coming down onto Luo Fan's.

  The headbutt instantly floored the young man. His blood showered the floor like rain - his fall had nearly disemboweled him outright. Luo Fan was out cold and not much longer for this world.

  Some blood trickled down Chun De's head. Her final strike was fierce enough to split her own brow.

  Chun De's bloodied, quivering figure turned back towards the crowd. They stared back at her in grim silence. No one cheered for her swift victory. Her gaping eyes scanned the men for any other challengers. Finding none, Chun De scoffed, flicked the blood off her sword, and went back to Song Quan's side. He patted her head and all the tension seemed to drain out of her.

  Luo Fan's father rushed to check on his son. The man could only wallow in his regrets. There was nothing he could do to save the boy's life.

  Song Quan followed him.

  "He was your only family, right?" He asked. When the man nodded, Song Quan's lofty hand wrapped around his head and crushed it like a grape. His lifeless body fell onto his son's. "Then let that be the end of it. Not another word about this."

  The bandits were shaken by the sight. It took them a lengthy moment to realize that his words were meant for them. The chieftains hurried to bellow their acknowledgements, and their lessers followed their example. Some were even so bold as to finally acknowledge Chun De's performance with mildly encouraging cries. The young woman remained unmoved, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

  They returned to the hall, and Song Quan once again took his seat.

  "Now, brothers, let us begin. Receive your first task." Song Quan said. But then he tarried, the conniptions assailing him once more, setting everyone around him ill at ease. And this time they proved too fierce. The Sleeping Asura could not contain himself. He clutched at his arm rests, but his rage forced him to his feet. His palms came down hard onto the table. His rage finally boiled over, his voice erupting with a tattered command.

  "Golden hair! Golden eyes!" He raved, "Bring me the woman in white!"

  ...