Jinchang County was unusually lively today. Early in the morning, Li Jian arrived at the county office to apply for a position as a constable. Many had come to compete for the job. The recruitment process consisted of a preliminary test and a final round. The first stage included two practical assessments: carrying a one-hundred-jin load for a set distance, and performing a martial arts routine.
Xie Song, who already worked at the county office, had been assigned to maintain order at the examination grounds that day. Flags fluttered across the square, and beside them stood a registration booth where a crowd had already gathered impatiently. In this remote county, respectable jobs were scarce—this was a rare chance for local farmers to make a name for themselves. The price, however, was steep: one tael per applicant.
Li Jian muttered to himself that even seeking employment had become costly in these times.
Xie Song spotted him in the registration line. There were four judges seated at the front, each with a banner behind them: Jincheng Escort Agency, Tiger Lord Escort Agency, Beifeng Escort Agency, and Northwest Escort Agency. Representing them were Chief Escort Wu Cheng, Lin Tianshan, Fan Dongcheng, and Qian Cheng—each powerfully built, clearly seasoned martial practitioners.
The county magistrate had organized this recruitment fair, and the crowd was immense—packed shoulder to shoulder.
A man in official robes, evidently the magistrate, stood on the stage and announced:
"Today's constable recruitment welcomes heroes from all regions. For the martial examination, we have invited four esteemed escort masters as judges… Those who pass will serve in the county office, contributing their talents to the state. Applicants must be of clean background. Time is limited—let us begin!"
The role of a constable required both physical strength and basic martial skill. The magistrate had held such examinations for three years, recruiting capable individuals and earning a reputation for fairness and integrity. He and his wife were also devout vegetarians, respected among the faithful.
The first test required contestants to carry a one-hundred-jin load over five hundred zhang within the time it took a stick of incense to burn.
Hundreds participated—over three hundred in total—divided into groups of ten. At the sound of the whistle, contestants hoisted sandbags and rushed forward with all their might. Some slipped and fell, but scrambled back up, determined to fight for a livelihood.
Cheers and sighs echoed across the grounds. Many failed at this first stage and could not proceed further.
Li Jian passed with ease—placing first in his group.
That afternoon, those who qualified advanced to the second test: performing a martial arts routine. Li Jian demonstrated a set of Five Elements Fist. The audience applauded generously.
When the results were posted, his name was on the list.
The next day came the final round. Over thirty candidates remained. This stage was an interview conducted by the magistrate, his advisor, and local gentry. Whether it was fair or not—opinions varied widely.
By afternoon, the final list was posted.
Only ten were selected.
Li Jian's name was not among them.
He could not hide his disappointment.
Previously, he had worked at the county office as a scholar-assistant, helping villagers draft petitions and complaints. It was unstable work, dependent on others' favor. In recent years, he had been reassigned to more labor-intensive duties. Fortunately, his rudimentary martial skills—and perhaps his surname—had allowed him to keep his position.
But now, with his grandfather—his only family—recently passed away, he felt unbound. Nearly eighteen and still unmarried, he resolved to resign at the end of the month.
After finishing his duties and collecting his pay, he packed lightly, bid farewell to Xie Song, and left the county. He planned to seek opportunities in Yongchang, Baichuan, or Jingyuan—or perhaps venture even farther.
Walking along the road, he began to consider traveling to Chang'an. It was a great city where scholars and warriors alike sought their fortunes. Perhaps he could find work in an official household—or join an escort agency—or simply make his way in the Jianghu.
Anything was better than remaining in that small county.
As he wandered along, he noticed a group of lamas gathered around a pavilion ahead. At the center stood a middle-aged man—handsome, strong, and dignified.
One of the lamas sneered, "Hero Wu, a wise man knows when to yield. You've already consumed drugged food—you won't recover your strength for half a day. Hand over the Tianwei Scripture, and we may spare your life. Otherwise, neither you nor the young girl with you will survive."
The drug they used was colorless and odorless—hard to detect. Even the famed "Desert Falcon," Wu Tong, had fallen victim.
Wu Tong replied coldly, "I dare not call myself a hero—but you meat-eating monks stoop to such despicable tricks. Did Master Marpa teach you this? Surely the Karmapa would not sanction such disgraceful conduct!"
The lama snapped, "Enough talk—hand over the scripture!"
The five lamas attacked at once. The man struggled to defend himself, but weakened by the drug, he could not hold out for long.
At that moment, Li Jian—without knowing where the courage came from—stepped forward and shouted:
"If you claim to be heroes of the Jianghu, you should not resort to treachery! Such conduct is beneath honor. I may be new to the martial world, but I cannot stand by and do nothing!"
He had never imagined that monks who chanted scriptures could act so vilely. His sense of righteousness surged.
Little did he know—
this moment would become the turning point of his life.