Chapter 2: The Black Iron Gang

Jan 05, 2026 By zhuallen

The "Black Iron Gang" was not some immortal sect, but the most powerful martial arts organization within a hundred-mile radius. They monopolized mineral transportation, and their instructors practiced Iron Sand Palm and Splitting Leg techniques. In the eyes of ordinary people, being able to break a brick with a single palm strike was considered an extraordinary skill.

Life as a menial worker in the Black Iron Gang was even harsher than Wen Buhuo had imagined. He was assigned to "mine logistics," responsible for transporting slag from the mountaintop furnace to the waste pit at the foot of the mountain. This was an exhausting job, requiring twenty round trips a day, each time carrying a hundred-pound iron basket on his shoulders.

The gang's head of the menial workers was a burly man named Black Bear, with a face full of menacing features. He always had a group of lackeys with him, specifically to bully the new apprentices. Because Wen Buhuo never complained or resisted, he became their target for amusement.

First incident: The food dispute. At lunchtime, Wen Buhuo was given only a bowl of thin porridge and half a black steamed bun. Black Bear, however, ordered his subordinates to overturn his bowl. Wen Buhuo said nothing, simply walked to the corner, picked up the bun that had fallen to the ground, wiped off the dust, and ate it bite by bite. He knew that resisting now would only lead to more brutal retaliation, and he couldn't afford to fall, because he still had to send money to his sister every month.
Second incident: Stealing rest time. At the slag pit, Wen Buhuo finally found a corner where he could sit down and catch his breath. Black Bear and his men came over and ordered him to clean the deepest and most dangerous collapsed area, which was full of sharp rocks. Wen Buhuo still didn't argue, but silently picked up his shovel and walked into the dim collapsed area. He even used this opportunity to quietly observe the structure of the collapsed area and devise the safest and most efficient cleaning route.
Third incident: Verbal abuse. One evening, Black Bear cornered Wen Buhuo on the path back to the straw hut. “Kid, your name is really unlucky, ‘Unlucky’? I don't think you'll ever amount to anything in this life. Just wait to rot here and watch your little bastard sister starve to death!” Wen Buhuo's eyes instantly turned cold, and he tightened his grip on the stone at his waist. It was the only "weapon" he could find. But he ultimately let go. He knew that anger was a sign of weakness. He would engrave this hatred into his bones, using it as motivation to become stronger in the future.

Just as Black Bear was about to make his move, two figures rushed out. One was a burly, honest-looking young man with bright eyes, named Li Zhuang. The other was thin and wiry, with a few freckles on his face and cunning eyes, named Zhang Xiaopang (although his name means "Little Fatty," he wasn't actually fat; it was just a nickname from his hometown, describing his quick wit).

Li Zhuang pushed away Black Bear's subordinate and said in a deep voice, "Brother Black Bear, there's not enough firewood in the mess hall, the steward told us to go help chop some!" Zhang Xiaopang cleverly offered a pot of cheap wine: "Brother Black Bear, this wine is a token of respect for you. Please be lenient and don't delay important matters."

Seeing that both of them had mentioned the "steward," Black Bear, though unwilling, knew he couldn't go too far. He glared fiercely at Wen Buhuo and left with his subordinates.

Li Zhuang and Zhang Xiaopang helped Wen Buhuo up. "Wen Buhuo, are you alright? Next time you encounter these bastards, don't fight back alone. The three of us should stick together," Li Zhuang said honestly. Zhang Xiaopang patted Wen Buhuo's shoulder: "You're too patient, kid. But this Black Iron Gang is a big cesspool; you have to endure it. We're all trying to survive for our families; there's no need to die for these lackeys."

Wen Buhuo looked at the two young men who had come to his aid, and a hint of emotion finally appeared on his cold face. For the first time, his sharp eyes showed a touch of relief. He knew that in this cold swamp, he wasn't completely alone. These two might be the few "allies" he could trust in this cruel world.