NgGung’s smile widened. He continued toward the man, and the man seemed unsure what he should do.
NgGung stopped within reach of the man’s weapon and said, “I applaud your determination, but someone is about to get hurt with that thing and it isn’t going to be me.” He pointed to his smashed nose and ran a finger along his battered forehead, highlighting a lifetime of combat wounds. “Do us all a favor and lower your weapon. Walk back into the forest, and pretend you never saw us. Better yet, join us. We could use men as brave as you. I could even show you how to hold that properly.”
The man hesitated, and Long heard a faint scuffle behind them. He turned to see Hung and Sanfu pin the other two men to the ground with their own kwandos.
Long looked back at the lead man and saw that his hands were beginning to shake.
“You appear to be a reasonable individual,” Ng-Gung said. “You gave us fair warning before attacking. This tells me that you are in the wrong line of business. A real thief needs to be ruthless—attack first and talk second. What is it you normally do for a living?”
The man lowered his head. “I am a baker.”
“Why, that is an admirable trade!” NgGung said enthusiastically. “Much better than a thief. Do you know how to make stuffed pork buns?”
The baker lifted his head. “I make the best buns in the region. Why?”
“Excellent!” NgGung replied. “We have several hundred people in our camp, but not one of them can make a decent pork bun. You’ll be a hero!”
The baker’s eyes widened. “Several hundred people in your camp? Why, you must be members of the Resistance! It is an honor to meet you.” He bowed. “If I may ask, what are you doing here? Rumor has it that your camp is to the south.”
NgGung gestured to Long and to PawPaw, who was now walking toward them up the trail, leading the second horse and its cart. “We are gathering recruits. Your timing could not be better. Would you like to join us?”
“Certainly,” the baker said. “I believe I can speak for my friends, too.”
The two men on the ground mumbled something that sounded like they agreed, and Hung and Sanfu released them.
“Do you know of any others in the area who might be interested in joining our cause?” NgGung asked.
“I believe I can bring many compatriots,” the baker replied. “More than a hundred. Army enlisters sent by a new warlord called Tonglong have been overrunning nearby villages, and the only way we can avoid being forced into the army is to hide in the forest. This Tonglong’s mandatory recruiting is destroying our families and our livelihoods, and his soldiers are eating up all of our winter stores. He must be dealt with.”
NgGung slapped the baker on the shoulder. “Very good. Round up every man and woman you can, and gather at this spot in exactly fifteen days. Bring as much food, weapons, and other supplies as you can carry. Horses would be particularly helpful. I understand that Tonglong has been hoarding them even more than he has been hoarding recruits.”
“He has,” the baker said. “I will spread the word and meet you back here in fifteen days.”
NgGung bowed. “It was very nice meeting you, my friend. I look forward to sampling your wares and to meeting our new recruits.” He motioned to Hung. “Shall we be on our way?”
Hung grunted, and they continued up the trail.
The next several days were relatively uneventful for Long. He spent his daylight hours chatting with Ng-Gung as they walked, and his nights learning as much as he could about horses from Sanfu. Sanfu was responsible for choosing their campsites and making sure the horses had plenty to drink and graze on. While Sanfu modestly said that he was not a horse expert, he was able to give Long a good idea of how to care for and handle one.
Long would help Sanfu unhook the horses from their carts every evening, removing their collars and harnesses. He would then lash each horse’s halter to the base of a stout tree, allowing enough distance between the animals for them to be able to eat and rest without harassing one another, or becoming entangled. He would also check their hooves, dislodging small stones and the like.
Before dawn, while the others were still asleep, Long would ride one of the horses bareback for a time before hooking it back to the cart. The horses were old and gentle, and he found them to be forgiving of any mistake he made. He quickly learned to steer by holding the reins and lightly moving the leather straps either right or left across their necks. The horses were far more sensitive than he had imagined, and he was soon able to turn them with little more than a flick of his wrist.
Riding atop a horse without a saddle was not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would be better than walking a great distance, especially since his leg and arm were still on the mend. He was eager to try galloping, but there was never enough open ground to attempt it. Besides, as Sanfu had pointed out, these were stubby old Mongolian workhorses. If their cumbersome gait was uncomfortable at a walking speed, at a full gallop it would rattle his skeleton and bruise his bottom worse than anything he had ever encountered in the fight clubs.