The streets were packed with people, and the app on my phone was still downloading—barely a third done. I checked the time; another two days to go. Helpless, The Dragon and I had no choice but to remain in this town.
Afterward, we found an inn and checked in, asking for a modern-style room. Once inside, The Dragon flopped onto the bed, visibly furious.
"Damn it, just wait until I come back here—I'll tear this whole place down. Shit."
"Enough. We're inside now."
At that moment, The Dragon looked extremely awkward, scratching the back of his head as he spoke.
"Uh, Ethan Zhang, about the money..."
"It's fine."
As soon as I said that, The Dragon suddenly shot up from the bed.
"No way, I’ll talk to the boss later and have him pay me all the wages I’ve missed over the past thousand years."
I let out an 'ah', looking at The Dragon, then asked in surprise.
"Redmond owes you a thousand years of wages?"
The Dragon smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. Ever since I started following the boss, he promised he’d pay me. Still hasn’t given me a single coin."
The Dragon grumbled with some dissatisfaction, and I couldn’t help but smile.
"By the way, since we’ve got nothing to do, why don’t you tell me how you met Redmond?"
The Dragon’s mood brightened, then he began to speak.
"It’s a long story, honestly. It’s pretty weird—everyone who met the boss did so in strange ways."
Hearing The Dragon say this, I became even more curious.
"Redmond used to be a bandit who robbed travelers, right? I heard John Chou call him the Mountain King."
The Dragon nodded and began his story. As a child, he was born with strange lumps on either side of his forehead, like a dragon’s horns. Because of that, his parents called him The Dragon, and everyone nearby used that name.
Back then, the world was relatively peaceful, but many still struggled to get enough to eat. Luckily, The Dragon’s parents ran a restaurant in a small town. Life wasn’t rich, but at least they never went hungry, and The Dragon grew up a bit chubby.
To give The Dragon a skill, his parents taught him to cook from a young age. When he turned eighteen, the world, which had been peaceful, suddenly descended into chaos.
Many young people in the town and nearby villages planned to go to the city to join a rising leader preparing for an uprising. They said that with the world in turmoil, it was the perfect time to build a legacy—better to take a risk than stay home farming.
The Dragon was encouraged by his friends to enlist, but when he arrived in the city, his size was a problem. Though strong, he was too heavy for marching, let alone fighting. When asked if he could forge weapons, he admitted he couldn’t.
He was assigned to the weapons forge, but couldn’t even hold a hammer properly—clumsy at every task. He said he could cook, but they dismissed that, saying soldiers only needed rations, not proper meals.
With his large appetite, he was sent home after just a few days.
Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh. The Dragon patted his belly.
The elders in town all advised the young people not to go—better to stay home and farm. If war came, they could always flee to the mountains.
The Dragon’s attempt to join the army failed, leaving him embarrassed. He slunk home at night. His parents were old, and with war drawing closer, their town—a vital crossroads—was bound to be swept up soon.
Their town was connected to a large, resource-rich city in the north. His parents decided to sell everything and flee before trouble arrived.
Eventually, they sold everything of value, and The Dragon and his parents set out for Redhaven in the north, planning to run a small food stall to make a living.
But The Dragon still wanted to join the army, since all his friends had gone. After much thought, he said goodbye to his parents on the road to Redhaven and headed northwest to a city still recruiting soldiers, figuring a few months of training would be enough.
With some money and a few days’ rations, The Dragon set off north. Passing through a village, people warned him about a notorious bandit in the mountain forests near the northwest city, known as Redmond the Bandit King, who robbed travelers ruthlessly.
But The Dragon figured he didn’t have much money anyway, so he converted it all to flour and carried it with him. If the Bandit King robbed him, at worst he’d lose his food. He split the flour up—so long as he could reach the northwest city, he’d be fine.
So The Dragon set off, trekking through the forests for three days without encountering any bandits. Instead, he ran into a military convoy escorting supplies.
"So Redmond the Bandit King is Redmond?"
I asked, and The Dragon chuckled and nodded. I couldn’t help but think the name sounded so provincial.
The Dragon followed the convoy, moving when they moved, stopping when they stopped. At first, no one paid him any mind, but eventually they detained and questioned him, suspecting he was after their supplies.
The Dragon did his best to explain, but they were still suspicious. Finally, he set down his cooking pot and made them a delicious meal, which convinced them.
There were only about eighty people in the convoy, escorting winter clothes.
After reaching another village, the convoy stopped to rest for a day—they’d been traveling for over ten days, and The Dragon was exhausted.
The Dragon kept cooking for them, and the soldiers were delighted.
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"You know, Ethan Zhang, the leader of that convoy was Noah Grimm—he was five years older than me."
I let out an 'ah', and The Dragon told me that Noah Grimm promised to get him a position in the army once they arrived. The Dragon was thrilled.
That night, while the convoy and villagers bought some food and wine, The Dragon was busy cooking. Just then, someone entered the kitchen.
He had long hair like a red cloud, nearly thirty years old, and wore a smile.
"Was it Redmond?"
I immediately realized it, and The Dragon laughed.
"Yeah, that was my first meeting with the boss. He came in claiming to be the army’s messenger, hungry and looking for something to eat."
At the time, Redmond was indeed dressed in military uniform, and without thinking, The Dragon served him several big bowls of food from the pot. Redmond kept praising The Dragon’s cooking.
But that night, all eighty soldiers fell into a deep sleep after eating The Dragon’s food.
At first, The Dragon thought they were just exhausted, but as more and more people passed out, eventually only Noah Grimm remained conscious—barely. Then, the sound of hoofbeats echoed.
There were only eight riders, led by the man with long red hair.
"I’m Redmond the Bandit King! I was so scared by the boss I collapsed right there. Honest folks like me are just too easy to fool."
Right in front of Noah Grimm, Redmond praised The Dragon for his efficiency. Noah Grimm was so angry his face turned white, but eventually he passed out. Redmond then told The Dragon he’d drugged the food.
Redmond rummaged through the convoy’s belongings, finding only a little money and some food. He couldn’t carry all the winter clothes, so he took what he could and left.
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, The Dragon didn’t know whether to run or stay. He shouted after Redmond, chasing his horse and demanding he go back and explain.
Redmond kept walking slowly, while The Dragon doggedly followed, but Redmond refused to go back or even acknowledge him—just toying with him.
On the fifth day, The Dragon finally tracked Redmond to his mountain stronghold—a dangerous outpost with barely a dozen people.
The Dragon sighed. After Redmond returned, he announced that The Dragon would be the official chef for Redmond’s Stronghold. At that point, it was too late for The Dragon to leave or refuse.
He had no choice but to stay in the bandit stronghold and become their chef.
"Why didn’t you just run back to Redhaven?"
"Sigh, I had no money, no food, and no way to get back. Besides, I was exhausted. That’s just how the boss is—I ended up as the chef in the stronghold without even realizing it."
Then I stood up and opened the window. Down below, a commotion was stirring.
Both The Dragon and I watched warily. At the center of the commotion, a crowd of ghost enforcers gathered—the atmosphere was tense, and the noise soon faded into silence.
Looking down, I saw Boss Qian blocking some ghost enforcers. On the ground, a trembling ghost crouched, clearly terrified—a female ghost.
"You know what? Forget it. She’s pretty enough—she can come back and be my concubine. So what if she doesn’t have identification? Let’s disperse."
"No, I won’t go!"
The female ghost looked absolutely terrified, but Boss Qian grinned lecherously, stroking her hair. She was beautiful, dressed in white. I clenched my fist—I wasn’t going to tolerate this.
Just then, with a flash of green light, The Dragon returned to his true form. He pressed Boss Qian’s head into the ground.
In an instant, a massive surge of ghostly energy erupted. The ghosts in town screamed and fled, and even the ghost enforcers ran for their lives.
"Don’t come out. It’s fine if I’m exposed, but if you’re exposed, it’ll be trouble. My boss taught me: when you see something like this, don’t hold back—just do it."