Gifted by the nobleman with four horses, the group’s next encounter came a day later, as they traversed the outskirts of Death Valley, a desolate wasteland which borders both White and Black clan territory. “Who in his right mind would establish his clan here?” Master Lingyun asked The Vagabond. “A man who is no longer allied with his right mind,” The Vagabond replied.

In answer to the others’ puzzled looks, The Vagabond urged his horse forward. And, no sooner had his steed placed a hoof upon the crossroads, then the sounds of a dozen other horses were heard in the distance.

“It seems our quarry has sought us out,” The Vagabond said, with a devilish grin.

With the sun at his back, Jun Weiming, “The Iron Fist”, and a dozen of his disciples raced out from a canyon to meet them, weapons held high. When Jun arrived, however, he found the group dismounted, weapons sheathed but hands well-prepared to draw them. Jun dismounted his horse in a bound, and signaled his men with a wave. They began to circle the group, clearly eager for combat.

Before The Vagabond could speak, Jun Weiming strode up to The Immoral Monk and struck him hard across the face with his mailed fist. The Immoral Monk took the strike, but merely smiled and crossed his arms in defiance. “You’ll have to do better than that, traitor,” he said.

“I hear your Praying Mantis is quite good,” Jun Weiming said. “But let’s see how it fares against my Iron Fist technique.”