The Western Regions are truly something else.
A city with three thousand people counts as a kingdom.
And a kingdom of three thousand people gets to have a king.
Three thousand people—actually, it’s not even close to three thousand, since a lot of folks in town are just here for fun and leave when they’re done. The real citizens are maybe just over a thousand—still, the king of this little kingdom is a king nonetheless, and a king gets a palace.
Jill Young really wanted to say, “This whole country has about as many people as my elementary school,” but as the saying goes, even a tiny sparrow has all its organs. The palace is way fancier than a school principal’s office, and the king gets to enjoy luxury in broad daylight.
Right in the center of Weston City stands a big mansion, guarded by soldiers—that’s the palace. The overall style leans Han Chinese, with a touch of Arabian flair. The guards are a bit sharper than the doormen, but honestly, none of them have that ‘three thousand Yue warriors could swallow Wu’ kind of spirit. Jill Young, Wu Zhengfeng, Lady Simone, plus the knowledge-bringing Ice and about ten others entered the compound together. Across the little plaza inside, their reception party was already waiting.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome to our distant guests… uh, lady warriors!” The old guy with an Afanti-style curled mustache spread his arms wide and greeted them in clumsy Mandarin. “Our king—His Majesty King Ramon—has been waiting for you!”
After a few polite words, the old man led everyone through the palace courtyard. The place was pretty big—doors, halls, corridors, all decked out. The harem maids went barefoot, wore veils, jingled with jewelry, and carried pottery back and forth. When they saw Jill and the crew, they blinked their big eyes in surprise, clearly not expecting women to be honored guests.
Those harem girls weren’t lacking in looks or figure. All in all, the so-called palace had some style. But for some reason, there was always this nouveau riche vibe, and the sword-wielding patrol guards gave off a temp worker feel—like they might be collecting a paycheck today, but could quit and walk out tomorrow.
Lady Simone suddenly thought of something and quietly leaned over to Jill Young and Wu Zhengfeng, whispering, “Master, what should we do if they ask for a grand ceremonial bow when we meet?”
When Hannah Frost and the others heard this, they stopped in their tracks, too. I mean, the guy’s technically a king—if he suddenly pulls a "How dare you, peasants! Why aren’t you bowing to your king?" that’d be a real riot.
Jill Young looked completely unconcerned: “Who cares? Don’t forget, we’re bandits—we’re black-market types. Who’s got time for his royal drama? We’re just here for a visit, to look around, grab the cash, and go. If he really tries something stupid… well, you know what happens.”
Hannah and the others exchanged glances, then broke into knowing smiles.
Following the mustachioed guy, they soon reached the main hall and finally met King Ramon. It was nothing like the grand court halls back in the heartland—more like a lounge. Mats, cushions, low tables, harem maids pouring drinks, and a big fat guy lounging on a divan. That fat guy with the same curled mustache? That’s King Ramon, the ruler of Weston Kingdom.
King Ramon looked super Middle Eastern, and the room was decorated like an oil tycoon’s pad, but his outfit was pure Mongolian style.
The fat king spotted Jill Young the moment she walked in. He jumped up to greet them—even before introductions, his eyes locked right onto the platinum-blonde queen striding front and center, wild and fearless. “Thank Tengri, the lady warriors are finally here! Welcome, honored guests—your humble king is truly delighted!”
Tengri? Isn’t Tengri a desert? What’s he thanking it for?
Noticing Jill Young’s slight confusion, the fat king’s face flickered with understanding and something else, but he quickly buried it and just kept smiling, gesturing grandly: “Please, have a seat! Come, bring out the wine!”
Maggie Monroe quietly played mascot at the back, her eyes saying, "Just watching, not talking." Jill didn’t stand on ceremony, sprawling at the head seat and sampling the fruit and wine—no poison, no drugs. Then she cut straight to the chase: “You called me over to talk big business, so I’m guessing it’s about that fugitive.”
She skipped all the formalities, but the king didn’t mind at all and started talking. It was a long, roundabout chat with lots of probing, but if you break it down, it all came in three steps.
Step one: check their background—in other words, see if the lady warriors were really what he thought, forest-dwelling outlaws… well, outlaw ladies. Jill Young’s answer was blunt, no attempt to hide it: Yep, we’re black-market types. From now on, this whole region is No One Under Heaven turf. Anyone passing through has to show respect—and maybe pay tribute with their morals.
The king’s mouth twitched at the answer—maybe he’d never seen someone just straight-up admit to being a criminal in a royal palace before. He quickly adjusted his expression and moved to step two: Ladies, do you have any powerful connections? Are you nobles out for a bit of fun? If you’re some kind of second-generation elite, let me kneel and cling to your thigh!
Jill Young nodded without hesitation: That’s right, we’ve got connections—big ones, sky-high. If you want to latch on, you’d better hurry, or you’ll miss your chance.
A subtle black line appeared on the king’s face—clearly, he didn’t buy it. He forced a laugh and moved to step three: I’ll buy the fugitive you caught—actually, I’ll buy the whole bandit gang, all hundred-plus of them! They’ve been terrorizing the area for years, burning, looting, you name it. Sure, they’re black-market too, but you did a good deed! Oh, and those horses and weapons—they were stolen from my kingdom. Could you, uh, maybe give them back…
Before he could finish, Jill Young raised an eyebrow, her expression subtle.
So before she could say anything, the fat king plastered on a smile and changed his tune: Oh, what am I saying? Of course, whatever they stole is their problem—they’ll pay for it. If they end up as beasts of burden, that’s on them. All the horses and swords are your spoils! I misspoke, please forgive me. But you know, it’s not easy to sell all this stuff around here—why not just sell it all to me? I’ll pay you a thousand gold, bounty included! No tricks, totally fair!
When he said a thousand gold, he didn’t mean a thousand taels of gold, but a type of small gold coin used in the Western Regions—you could grab a handful at once. That silver-scale armor sells for five gold apiece because the coins are so light. Still, a thousand gold is a huge sum. Even if you sold the people, horses, and gear on the open market, you probably wouldn’t get that much.
“You’re pretty generous—that’s a solid offer.” Jill Young drummed her long, pale finger on the table, thinking it over, then nodded: “Deal. I like doing business with straightforward people.”
“Ha! Great! I won’t hide it—when the Weston royal family fell on hard times, I studied business and traveled far as a merchant, so I know how important honesty and mutual benefit are.” The fat king switched to full salesman mode: “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m actually the biggest merchant in this city. If you ever want to buy or sell anything, just come to me!”
“Oh?” Jill Young raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I can fence stolen goods with you long-term?”
"Uh..." The fat king was practically sweating. Lady, could you maybe be a little more subtle? Aside from your hair color, you look like a total heartland local—can’t you talk in circles like one?
Absolutely can’t admit to fencing, but that’s exactly what Jill Young meant. King Ramon quickly improvised: “Uh… I just handle buying and selling. Whatever you bring, I just check the goods and set a price. As for how the seller ‘acquired’ them, my business runs on trust—I never pry into commercial secrets…”
Well, at least he managed to muddle through that conversation.
Jill Young just shrugged and let it go, moving on to business. The market was a mess, and it was hard to find quality goods, so she decided to buy everything from the fat king. Like she told Apo before—if anything goes wrong, just take out the king. The fat king, unaware of what kind of guests he was hosting, got all fired up at the mention of business, losing his royal dignity. He had the mustachioed attendant bring a list and eagerly introduced everything. Jill scanned the list and actually found something she wanted.
“You’ve got a good eye—this is top-grade rhino hide, just traded from the far west. Tough as steel, can’t be cut with knives or axes. Make it into armor and you’ll be unstoppable! Oh, and this—crocodile scale leather. Breathable, springy, comfortable, and classy. And this OOXX, and that XXOO…” The fat king was on a roll: “Thinking of making armor? My little kingdom happens to have leatherworkers who can tan and cure hides for you—free of charge, ready in no time.”
The price he offered was tempting. Who knows what a big batch of rhino hide really costs on the market, but hauling it all the way here couldn’t be cheap. Still, the fat king’s price felt like a fire sale—practically giving it away.
“Alright, deal. I’ll take the rhino hide and all the top-grade cowhide at your price. Cure the hides first.”
“Great, great! I’ll have everything ready in three to five days. While we’re waiting, I’ve got another deal—maybe you’ll be interested.” The fat king pulled out a stack of parchment and slid it across the table: “Take a look.”
Jill Young picked up the parchment and spread it out—turns out it was all bounty notices.
“As you can see, my kingdom is new—wealthy, but weak. Bandits are always causing trouble. People like you are rare; most folks are just crooks. Some are so bold they insult me right to my face. I’m fed up, so I posted bounties. The ones you caught are just one group—there are still a few nests left. I have no soldiers, only money, so I’ll offer two thousand—no, three thousand gold!” The fat king gritted his teeth and went all in: “Three thousand gold if you wipe out the bandits and help me save face!”
“Three thousand gold?” Everyone, recently hit hard by the price of daily necessities, had their eyes light up. With three thousand gold, No One Under Heaven could totally upgrade their gear. Whatever they wanted to eat, wear, use, or ride—unless it was some god-tier artifact—they could just buy it all!
“Alright, it’s a deal!”
Slap! They high-fived to seal the deal.
With the side business handled and plenty of goods secured, they made the most of that thousand gold. After handing over the captives and spoils, Jill Young led her crew out. The fat king, all neighborly and friendly, walked them all the way to the palace gates, waving goodbye with real reluctance.
Once they were out of sight, he hurried back into the palace and down to the dungeon to see the bandit chief. But in the cell, the guy who should’ve been resigned to his fate looked totally chill. When the fat king showed up, the bandit chief barked, “Hurry up and untie me! How long are you going to keep me like this?”
“If you’re gonna fake it, go all the way—if they catch on, you’ll be the ones in trouble.” The fat king waved, and the mustachioed attendant untied the bandit chief. The king, not hiding his annoyance: “What happened out there? Over a hundred men, and you got taken down by a bunch of wild women? You cost me a fortune—how embarrassing!”
“Pah! If we hadn’t been caught off guard, no way we’d lose to those women! And don’t give me that ‘you lost money’ crap!” The bandit chief flexed his wrists, glaring at the king. “You’re just running the same old scam—move the goods, pocket the money, and when I take care of those women, you won’t have to pay or hand anything over. It’s a perfect con! You merchants always squeeze us warriors dry!”
“Hmph, who could resist such a low price? Women—long hair, short sight, greedier than men when it comes to shopping. As long as they go for bargains, they’ll fall for the trap.” The fat king’s face lost all its friendliness, turning sly and vicious. “But tell me straight—can you handle these women or not?”
“Hmph, there are a couple of real experts among them, but that’s it. I couldn’t take them, but the monks in our sect definitely could.” The bandit chief was confident, then added cautiously, “But if they’ve got connections, especially with the Mongols, we’d better not mess with them. You can’t afford to cross the Mongols these days.”
“Don’t worry. They look totally Han Chinese. Besides, their leader didn’t even know what ‘Tengri’ meant—no way they’re Mongols.” Tengri is Mongolian for ‘Eternal Heaven,’ the highest faith of the Yuan and Mongol peoples. Not knowing Eternal Heaven would be like a Han not knowing the Jade Emperor—absolutely impossible.
“Well, that’s a relief. This time, we’ll definitely get our revenge!”
“Those women are all good-looking—don’t kill them all. If we hand them over to the old masters of the cult, it’ll be a huge favor!”
“Hmph, that’s not up to us—it depends on the monks’ mood. But either way, I want them to suffer worse than death!”
No one but the mustachioed attendant heard the dungeon plot. But sometimes, you don’t need to hear or see anything. Out on the streets of Weston City, Wu Zhengfeng stroked her chin and mused, “I don’t know why, but I feel like that king’s hiding something. He doesn’t seem honest.”
Lady Simone, ever clever, chimed in: “Master, I think that fat king’s setting a trap. In our talk, he asked about our identities, then our background, used big money and low prices to tempt us, and finally dangled a big reward to lure us in. I suspect there’s something fishy with those bounty contracts. We should be careful.”
Wu Zhengfeng glanced over at Lady Simone, impressed.
Low-ranking servants usually have high stats—not only can they fight with top experts, they’ve got brains too. In this respect, Lady Simone is a real asset. Wu Zhengfeng nodded, then looked at Jill Young: “(Yuanfang -_-) What do you think?”
“Here’s what I think—I don’t like that fat king.” Jill Young strode ahead, totally unapologetic: “That fake smile makes me want to mess with him. Don’t worry, as long as we’re tough enough, even his empty promises will have to pay out!”
Night had fallen. When No One Under Heaven checked into the inn, A Zhi reported with a face so ashamed she looked ready to die: “Boss, it’s all my fault! Your hair… it’s been stolen!”