The kitchen of the Thunder Dragon Sect was a place where hope went to die.
Lei Feng stood in front of a cracked wooden table. On the table sat a chipped ceramic bowl. Inside the bowl was a liquid that could arguably be called "white."
He stared at it. He had been staring at it for a full minute.
"Sect Leader."
Wei Han flinched. He was currently pressing a cold rag to the lump on his head where Lei Feng had hit him earlier.
"Y-yes?"
"What is this?" Lei Feng pointed a shaking finger at the bowl.
"It is rice gruel," Wei Han explained timidly. "It is good for digestion. We do not have much grain left so I added extra water to make it stretch."
"Extra water?"
Lei Feng picked up the spoon. He dipped it into the bowl and lifted it. The liquid was so thin it was basically translucent. A single grain of rice floated sadly in the spoon like a shipwreck survivor lost at sea.
"This isn't gruel," Lei Feng whispered. The temperature in the kitchen dropped ten degrees. "This is hot water that a piece of rice took a bath in."
"We have to be frugal!" Wei Han cried out defensively. "The Black Tiger Hall demands tribute every month! We have no disciples to pay fees! I sold the sect's decorative swords last week just to buy salt!"
Clang.
Lei Feng dropped the spoon.
He looked at the pitiful middle-aged man. He looked at the sad grain of rice.
"I fought the Blood Demon," Lei Feng muttered to himself. "I climbed the Mountain of Ten Thousand Swords. I drank wine that cost a thousand gold taels a bottle."
He grabbed the bowl and chugged it in one gulp.
Wei Han blinked. "Oh? You liked it?"
Ptoo!
Lei Feng spat the liquid right back into the pot.
"It tastes like poverty!" Lei Feng screamed. "It tastes like failure! My tongue is offended! My stomach is filing a complaint!"
He kicked the table. The table, being rotten like everything else in this godforsaken sect, immediately collapsed. The pot of hot water spilled all over the floor.
"My dinner!" Wei Han shrieked. He fell to his knees and tried to scoop up the watery gruel with his hands. "That was our food for two days!"
Lei Feng watched the pathetic sight. The Sect Leader of the once-great Thunder Dragon Sect was on the floor crying over spilled hot water.
A vein throbbed in Lei Feng's temple.
"Get up."
"But the rice..."
"I said get up!"
Lei Feng grabbed the back of Wei Han's collar and hauled him up like a bag of laundry. He dragged the man out of the kitchen and into the sunlight.
"Listen to me clearly," Lei Feng said. He poked Wei Han in the chest. "I do not eat gruel. I do not eat vegetables unless they are garnish for a roasted pig. Do you understand?"
"But we have no money!" Wei Han wailed. "I told you! The Black Tiger Hall took everything! We have zero taels! Zero copper! Even the mice moved out!"
Lei Feng rubbed his chin.
"So you are saying we have no money because the Black Tiger Hall took it?"
"Yes!"
"And they are the ones who came here earlier to smash things?"
"Yes! They are tyrants!"
Lei Feng's lips curled up.
It was a smile that made Wei Han instinctively cover his vital points. It was the smile of a bandit who just found a map to a treasure chest.
"Well then," Lei Feng said, cracking his knuckles. "It seems we have a simple solution."
He turned and started walking toward the sect gates. He still held the rotting bamboo broom in his hand.
"W-where are you going?" Wei Han stammered, chasing after him. "That is the way to the town!"
"I am going to get dinner," Lei Feng said cheerfully.
"But you have no money!"
Lei Feng stopped. He looked back at the Sect Leader with eyes that shone with a terrifying light.
"Sect Leader. Let me teach you a lesson about the martial world. Money is not something you earn by working hard."
He pointed the broom down the mountain path, toward where the Black Tiger Hall was located.
"Money is something that belongs to whoever has the hardest fist. And right now, I am very hungry."
Wei Han's face went pale. "You... you can't mean... you are going to rob them?"
"Rob? What an ugly word." Lei Feng scoffed. He swung the broom over his shoulder. "They caused mental damage to me earlier. They dirtied our courtyard with their ugly faces. I am simply going to collect a compensation fee."
"They have fifty disciples! Their master is an expert in the Crushing Rock Fist!"
"Rock Fist?" Lei Feng snorted. He resumed walking. "Good. I need something to crack walnuts with."
"Wait! Jin! Disciple Jin! You will get killed!"
Wei Han tried to grab Lei Feng's arm.
Lei Feng didn't even look back. He just flicked his wrist.
Thwack.
The handle of the broom lightly tapped Wei Han's wrist. It looked like a gentle tap, but Wei Han felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm. He yelped and let go.
"You should come too, Sect Leader," Lei Feng called out without stopping. "Bring a sack. A large one."
"A sack? Why?"
"To carry the meat. And the gold. Mostly the meat."
Wei Han stood there, clutching his numb wrist. He looked at the small back of the disciple he thought he knew. The boy who used to be shy and sickly was gone. In his place was a lunatic.
But...
Wei Han looked at his empty stomach. He remembered the taste of the watery gruel.
He gritted his teeth.
"Wait for me!" Wei Han ran into the storage room and grabbed a dusty hemp sack. "If we are going to die, I want to die full!"
...
The Town of Green River.
It was a bustling place at the foot of the mountain. Merchants shouted, carts rolled by, and the smell of cooking food filled the air.
Lei Feng walked down the main street. He ignored the strange looks people gave him. It wasn't every day you saw a scrawny boy marching with the swagger of a general, holding a rotting broom, followed by a middle-aged man hyperventilating into a sack.
They stopped in front of a large building.
It had polished wooden pillars and a sign painted in gold: Black Tiger Hall.
Two guards stood at the entrance. They looked bored.
"Hey," Lei Feng said.
The guards looked down. They saw the broom. They saw the boy.
"Get lost, kid," one guard said, waving his hand. "This isn't a playground."
Lei Feng turned to Wei Han.
"Sect Leader. Observe closely. This is the first technique of the Thunder Dragon Sect."
"F-first technique?" Wei Han whispered. "Is it the Lightning Palm? The Thunder Step?"
"No," Lei Feng said.
He took a deep breath.
"It is called: The Polite Knock."
Lei Feng lifted his leg and kicked the front door.
BOOM!
The heavy double doors didn't just open. They exploded off their hinges. They flew into the courtyard like giant wooden frisbees.
Dust billowed out.
The two guards stood frozen, their mouths open. They looked at the empty doorframe. They looked at the boy.
Lei Feng lowered his leg. He dusted off his pants.
"See?" Lei Feng grinned at the terrified Sect Leader. "Now we don't have to open it ourselves. Efficiency."
From inside the hall, angry shouts erupted.
"WHO DARES?!"
"ATTACK!"
Dozens of men in black and orange robes poured into the courtyard. In the center stood a large man with a beard that looked like a scouring pad. It was the Hall Master of the Black Tiger Hall.
"You!" The Hall Master pointed a trembling finger at Lei Feng. "You are the brat from the mountain! You have a death wish!"
Lei Feng walked into the enemy courtyard. He looked at the fifty men surrounding him. He looked at their weapons. He looked at their angry faces.
He yawned.
"I am here for the donation," Lei Feng announced. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise like a sharp blade.
"Donation?" The Hall Master turned purple. "You break my door and ask for money?"
"Two thousand taels," Lei Feng said, counting on his fingers. "Plus interest. Plus a fee for making me walk down the mountain. Plus... ah, yes. The mental trauma fee."
He pointed the broom at the Hall Master.
"Total comes to five thousand taels. And a roasted pig. With apple sauce."
The Hall Master laughed. It was a laugh of pure disbelief.
"Kill him!" the Hall Master roared. "Break every bone in his body!"
The disciples charged. A wave of black and orange.
Wei Han shrieked and covered his eyes with the sack. "We are dead!"
Lei Feng didn't move. He watched the first wave of attackers come.
"Too slow," he muttered.
His eyes flashed with a faint violet light.
"Too weak."
He gripped the broom.
"Too... boring."
Lei Feng moved.
He didn't use internal energy. He didn't have any. He used pure, refined technique.
He sidestepped a fist. He tripped the attacker. As the man fell, Lei Feng used his back as a stepping stone to launch himself into the air.
Whack! Thud! Crack!
The broom was a blur. It struck wrists, ankles, and chins. Every time the broom moved, a Black Tiger disciple hit the ground.
It wasn't a fight. It was housekeeping. Lei Feng was simply sweeping the trash.
"Argh! My knee!"
"My nose! He broke my nose!"
"Why is the broom so hard?!"
In ten seconds, twenty men were rolling on the ground.
Lei Feng landed softly in the center of the carnage. He leaned on the broom like a cane. He looked at the Hall Master, who was now sweating profusely.
"Is that it?" Lei Feng asked. He sounded genuinely disappointed. "I haven't even warmed up. I am still hungry."
He took a step forward.
The Hall Master took a step back.
"W-wait!" the Hall Master stammered. "Let's talk! We are civilized people!"
"I am not civilized," Lei Feng said, raising the broom. "I am starving. And a starving dragon is very, very unreasonable."
Lei Feng smiled.
"Now. About that roasted pig?"