Wenxin — the mercenary attendant — came to his senses and immediately rushed to report upstairs, barely containing himself.

Never mind that a single order worth fifty Heaven Crystals had already exceeded half the maximum target the combined mercenary associations had set for themselves coming to the exchange. Just the fact that the combat-type Sky-rank war beast eggs — which had sat completely ignored for as long as anyone could remember — had found a buyer at all was the best news any of them had heard in years. Turning those worthless eggs into actual income would be nothing short of miraculous.

The mercenary captains, however, received this miraculous news with deep skepticism.

Couldn’t be real.

Who in their right mind would pay top price for combat-type Sky-rank war beast eggs? And in Heaven Crystals, no less — not Shard Crystals.

The distinction mattered enormously in Human Valley. The upper echelons recognized only Heaven Crystals; the Ancient Law itself acknowledged only Heaven Crystals as legitimate tender, treating the Shard Crystal — the people’s informal substitute — as though it didn’t exist. Heaven Crystals were rare, and not everyone had the standing to possess them. So, tens of thousands of years ago, the common people and mercenaries had begun using a clear transparent stone as a substitute for daily transactions. The upper class refused to acknowledge it, but the “Shard Crystal,” as this substitute currency came to be known, had genuinely made ordinary life easier for those who couldn’t afford the real thing.

Buying an egg, buying a handful of greens — nobody was going to hand over a precious Heaven Crystal for that. The Shard Crystal filled the gap.

The exchange rate between the two was officially unrecognized but in practice remained relatively stable. Generally, one Heaven Crystal could be traded for somewhere between a thousand and twelve hundred Shard Crystals, with certain remote regions offering as many as fifteen hundred. The exchange was one-directional, of course — nobles could convert Heaven Crystals into Shard Crystals through civilian traders, but no mercenary could walk up to a noble lord and run that exchange in reverse.

Commerce between the two currencies lived at the common level, primarily through reputable trading houses.

“Something about this feels wrong.” One of the mercenary captains frowned.

“Agreed.” Another picked up the thread. “Think it through calmly — this is almost certainly a setup. A noble young lord with that kind of spending power wouldn’t be wandering around without a single attendant at his side. And if a noble actually needed Sky-rank war beast eggs for some purpose — granting, for argument’s sake, that these things could be useful to someone — why would he come himself? A lord of his bearing wouldn’t spare a glance for combat-type Sky-rank eggs. Even if he genuinely wanted them, he’d send a servant to handle the buying. Why lower himself to set foot in our little exhibition hall?”

“Fair point. If a noble lord wanted something, he wouldn’t even need to pay — he’d have people falling over themselves to give it to him.” The third captain nodded along.

“Fifty crystals just for Sky-rank war beast eggs. The numbers alone don’t hold together.”

“If this is a trap, we cannot walk into it. If we do, we’ll be ruined.”

“What if it’s a competitor playing dirty? They set us up to purchase a mountain of worthless eggs, drain a year’s savings, and watch us go bankrupt…”

“But — if this is a genuine order from that young lord, and we refuse out of suspicion, when he comes back tomorrow he’ll be furious at the insult. We’d be throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Wenxin had the feeling that Yue Yang hadn’t been the sort of man who ran cons. That bearing, that quality of presence — no grifter could imitate it convincingly. He hadn’t been able to read exactly what rank the noble insignia represented, but it was unquestionably authentic.

The young lord was definitely a real noble. The only thing Wenxin couldn’t settle in his mind was whether the man had genuinely wanted those eggs, or whether some aristocratic wager had led him to toy with a small-time attendant for sport.

If it was the latter, Wenxin was about to drag every associate he had off a cliff.

Then again — the young lord had been oddly approachable. No contempt. No studied rudeness. A promised tip of five whole Heaven Crystals was outlandishly generous. Could it really have been a joke? Was he about to destroy everyone around him because a moment of greed had gotten the better of his judgment? Wenxin’s thoughts raced, and when they stopped, he found himself cold with sweat.

The opportunity was right there. Was it a genuine chance, or a catastrophic trap?

It probably wasn’t real. There were too many red flags.

But what if it was?

Nobody wanted to let go of a fifty-crystal order for goods that were otherwise worth less than kindling. If this actually went through, they’d be laughing in their sleep for a year. And yet the weight of logic and the brutal arithmetic of reality kept pressing down — no one dared to accept.

“Iron, what do you think?” Everyone turned to the broad, quiet man seated at the center of the table — the one with the great curling beard who hadn’t said a word.

“…” The bearded man stroked his beard in silence for a long time.

Then he made his decision.

He stood. Shoulders like a fortress wall. Frame as solid and immovable as a mountain.

He swept his gaze around the room, those fierce tiger-eyes radiating a pressure that stilled the air. “Before I called everyone in, I spent considerable time questioning Wenxin directly — every detail. And I trust Wenxin. He’s the best talker and the sharpest judge of people among us, and he’s been an honest friend and brother to every one of us for years. If Wenxin is this shaken up, the order has real substance to it. Believe me — he wouldn’t let temptation buy his integrity. He wouldn’t let temptation throw us all under a cart. Yes, today’s order looks impossible. But we are in Human Valley, and impossible things happen here.”

He paused. “I’m not ordering anyone to accept this. Your concerns are reasonable. But I, Iron Lion, am an old mercenary who’s been waiting his whole life for a chance like this. I will not let it pass. Even if this is a trap — I’m stepping into it. A fifty-crystal order. I’m taking it.”

The other captains were on their feet before he’d finished.

“That’s not what we meant — we want to take it too. It seemed too strange to believe, that’s all. We weren’t saying no.”

“That’s right. We made a pact — prosperity shared, hardship shared. There’s no version of this where Iron Lion goes alone.”

“One thing I’ll say — if the boss is jumping knowing it might be a pit, I’m jumping with him. What else is there to say?”

“We’re not wealthy people. Day to day is tight. But scraping together a few crystals? That’s manageable. If we lose everything, we’ll tighten our belts for another season and half — it wouldn’t be the first time. Ten crystals. I’m in.”

“Ten’s more than I’ve got. I’ll manage five.”

“Everything I have — eight crystals.”

“God willing, let this be real. Please let this be real. Otherwise…” Wenxin quietly wiped the corner of his eye. He wanted this to be real more than anyone, because if it wasn’t, he had poisoned every man in the room — and his conscience would never find its way back from that.

“Put it away, all of you.” Iron Lion’s voice rolled like a landslide. “I’ve been a mercenary for a few hundred years. I have a little set aside. I’ll front the fifty crystals. If the deal falls through, everyone’s losses stay minimal. If it goes through, we split proportionally. That’s final.”

Protests came from every direction. Nobody would accept it. Iron Lion silenced them all with one sweep of a massive hand. “Enough arguing. You lot started late — I had more time to save. I’m the big brother here, so let me act like one. Fifty crystals, I’m covering it. This is how it’s going to be. Not another word.”

It took a long and fractious argument to reach a compromise: the other captains together contributed thirty crystals, and Iron Lion personally carried the remaining twenty, with profits to be split proportionally. Decision made, all six mercenary associations mobilized. Members swept through every exhibition hall at the exchange. They fanned out through Gold Leaf City’s commercial district. Teams traveled to neighboring towns and cities through the night, returning with packs loaded with every Sky-rank combat-type beast egg they could find, leaving merchants bewildered in their wake — what had gotten into these penniless mercenaries?

When the last team staggered back before dawn, backs aching and legs nearly done, a collective exhale moved through the room.

Followed by a collective intake of breath, as the weight of what they’d done settled in.

The fifty-crystal order was complete.

But was any of this real?

If the order turned out to be some nobleman’s idle joke, the consequences were unthinkable. There was nothing left to do but sit with the dread. The sun rose on a room of mercenaries arranged around a mountain of Sky-rank war beast eggs, staring at the door. The young lord hadn’t left a deposit. He hadn’t signed anything. He’d simply walked away — and the only thing anchoring six mercenary associations to this gamble was the word of one attendant and the gut instinct of one old captain.

Morning passed. No sign of him.

They told themselves nobles don’t rise before noon. Noon arrived. No sign of him. The sun began its slow descent toward the west. No one said anything. No one said “trap.” No one said “we’ve been had.” If they didn’t say it, perhaps it still wasn’t true.

Wenxin sat at the doorstep, motionless, staring at nothing in particular. Every passing minute felt like something carving him from the inside. No one said a word of blame to his face — but the silence was its own kind of verdict. The only reason he hadn’t collapsed entirely was Iron Lion, seated somewhere behind him, unmoved as bedrock.

Iron Lion, for his part, kept his face absolutely steady — but to accomplish this, he had quietly broken his own little finger beneath the table, using the shock of the pain to hold himself upright. He couldn’t afford to unravel. If he unraveled, six mercenary associations would come apart like thread.

The shadows lengthened.

The sun completed its arc.

When the last light faded from the sky, Wenxin found he had nothing left to hold himself together with. His spine went out from under him, and he was on the floor, and the tears came — the kind that come when there is nothing left between a person and what they’ve done.

He pressed his forehead to the stone steps. Once. Twice. Three times. Hard enough that blood ran. He lifted his face and looked at the men behind him — at the captains, at Iron Lion — and his voice came out as barely more than wreckage.

“All of this is my fault. I let five crystals buy me. I did this to every one of you.” His hand found the short blade at his hip. “I can’t face any of you. Let me go first.”

Iron Lion crossed the room like a thunderclap.

One enormous hand closed around the blade with no thought for the edge. Blood hit the floor — his blood, from the bare grip — and he stood over Wenxin and bellowed at him with the full force of a man who had held himself quiet for a very long time.

“You absolute fool. Nobody dies on my watch without my say-so. The day your parents handed you to me, your life became mine to manage. You hear me? Yours is not a life you can throw away.”

“We decided together. Every one of us. This isn’t on you.”

“Fifty crystals is not a death sentence. We’ll earn it back.”

“Stop it, Wenxin. You’re giving the boss a headache. Let’s just figure out what we do next—”

“If you feel that guilty, work harder afterward. Go out and make three deals that cover this one. Don’t you dare take the easy way out on us.”

And then — cutting cleanly through all of it, like water moving through noise — a voice.

Clear. Unhurried. Faintly amused.

“What a racket. Are you closing up shop, or is this still a place of business?”

The room stopped.

Every person in it froze where they stood, as though the air had turned to glass. Heads turned, one by one, toward the doorway.

Standing at the entrance was a young man in clothing that spoke of quiet, effortless wealth — the kind that didn’t need to announce itself. Mercenaries had seen plenty of nobles. But a noble with this particular quality of presence — as though the space around him naturally arranged itself into appropriate deference — was something none of them had encountered before. The Gold Leaf City Junior Lord, widely praised as the handsomest face in ten cities, would not have rated high enough to carry this young man’s shoes.

Looking at him, every mercenary in the room felt something in themselves quietly diminish — as though this lord deigning to stand in their doorway was the most distinguished thing their lives had offered.

“You’re all in here weeping,” the young lord observed, pleasantly. “Don’t tell me you thought my order was a fraud.”

Heads dropped. Yes. That was exactly what they’d thought. They had cursed his name approximately a thousand times, in fact.

“Well.” He stepped inside. “My oversight yesterday — placing the order without leaving a deposit — must have caused you considerable distress. Lord Titan of Star Diamond Castle offers his apologies. You should have reminded me, truly. In all honesty, I have never personally made a purchase before, and it simply did not occur to me that an order requires a deposit at the time of placing.”

The room processed this in dazed silence. This young lord — this impossibly young lord — was an actual domain lord? With real territory?

The final sentence, in particular, settled on everyone’s chest like a gentle weight.

Of course he hadn’t known about deposits. A domain lord doesn’t make purchases. A domain lord says what he wants and it appears. Fifty Heaven Crystals is a rounding error, not a transaction he would think to track. How was anyone supposed to anticipate that a cluster of mercenaries would nearly tear themselves apart over it?

Everyone was too mortified to form words.

(Naturally, the bit about “never having personally made a purchase” was Yue Yang putting on airs — performing the role of the high-born lord who has never had to handle something as mundane as commerce. It wasn’t easy to maintain, either. What he obviously couldn’t say was: I was testing you. The order was a probe. I wanted to see what kind of men you are. He’d found out. Some performance was necessary when acquiring new help, and Yue Yang understood that completely.)

He reached into his sleeve and produced a small card, pressing it into the still-trembling hands of the attendant. The card was a special crystal note drawn against his Star Diamond Castle account, set apart at one hundred Heaven Crystals. “Fifty crystals for the goods — draw directly from this. Any reputable trading house in the region will honor it the moment you announce the name of Lord Titan of Star Diamond Castle. The five crystals I promised you yesterday are in there as well — draw those too.” He paused, and something between amusement and mild exasperation crossed his face. “Young man. Please. The tears are beginning to make this uncomfortable for everyone. I am, as it happens, a lord of considerable goodwill, and I would greatly prefer not to carry the reputation of having reduced a small-time mercenary attendant to ruins. You’re putting me in a rather awkward position.”

Wenxin’s legs gave out.

He couldn’t form words. His lips moved. What came instead was a waterfall.

Thud. He hit the floor, kneeling.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Behind him, one after another, every mercenary in the room followed.

All six captains. Every member of every association. A room full of seasoned mercenaries on their knees, none of them able to find their voices.

Iron Lion was the only one who didn’t cry. He snapped another finger bone — using the pain to push back what was pressing hard at the back of his eyes — then lowered himself onto one knee. His hands rose in a formal salute above his head. His voice came out rough at the edges but absolutely steady.

“My lord — great and generous lord — please allow us to follow you.” He held the position. “We have no exceptional power to offer. But we have courage that has never once faltered, and a loyalty that will not change while we draw breath. If you will have us, we offer everything we are. Including our lives.”

Yue Yang was inwardly overjoyed. He’d assumed this group would take considerably more time and effort to bring around — and here they were, folded in a single afternoon.

Still, answering too quickly would spoil the atmosphere he’d worked to cultivate. He let the silence breathe.

“Brave and loyal mercenaries,” he said, with the measured gravity of a lord who has weighed many such pledges and found few worthy of acceptance. “Tell me — why? What is your reason?”

Iron Lion raised his head and met Yue Yang’s eyes. The expression on his face was the kind that belongs to a man who says exactly what he means, every time. He spoke one word at a time, as though placing stones in a foundation.

“Because. You are. A good person.”

He held the gaze without wavering. “A lord like you — a genuine good man, and rarer than one in ten thousand — is exactly the kind of lord worth laying down our lives to protect.”

He just handed me a Good Guy Card.

Yue Yang blinked inwardly. Under different circumstances, this would have been cause for considerable private suffering. Fortunately, Iron Lion was very definitively not a woman, which rendered the romantic dimension blessedly absent. Yue Yang processed the mild absurdity and arrived at the conclusion that receiving a Good Guy Card in exchange for the sworn loyalty of an entire mercenary association was, on balance, a favorable trade — particularly when the association in question had just demonstrated they possessed genuine capability and genuine spine.

He allowed himself a smile that outshone everything in the room.

“Very well. I find, somewhat unexpectedly, that having capable people around to handle things has a certain appeal.”

The room detonated.

Whatever had been holding the mercenaries together through all of it — relief, joy, disbelief, gratitude — went off at once. Every chest in the room felt like it might give way under the pressure of something too large to contain.

In the quiet behind his expression, Yue Yang’s thoughts moved to colder water.

Ji Wuri. Heavens-Splitting Demon Lord. I’ve begun moving too — not openly, perhaps, but no more slowly. The only question now is who reaches the front first.

Competition in Human Valley was not won by whoever made the most noise. Sometimes the unmarked back roads that no one had bothered to walk reached the destination faster than the broad avenues where every eye was watching.

And the evidence for this was not theoretical. Tens of thousands of years ago, Empress Vivienne herself had tried exactly this kind of approach in Human Valley — and succeeded. A decade and a half ago, Mother — Fourth Sister’s elder sister — had charted her own singular course and built something none who came after had matched. With their hard-won experience behind him, and the women in the Grimoire World at his side, this world of Human Valley — where one could taste every flavor life had to offer — was one he fully intended to master.

Ji Wuri. Heavens-Splitting Demon Lord.

This battle, I’m not just going to win. I’m going to surpass you entirely.

Human Valley — this is where it starts.

(End of Chapter)