As the Patrol Troops from the City Lord’s Mansion finally arrived, they hauled away the disgruntled group whose noses weren’t noses and eyes weren’t eyes. The farce finally came to an end.
As he was dragged away, Allen desperately pried open one eye crusted with blood and glared at Alex, his words coming out in broken gasps.
“You… just you wait…”
With debris scattered everywhere that needed cleaning up, Alex wearily pinched the bridge of his nose and called over his employees.
In that instant, he looked as world-weary as a middle-aged man saddled with years of mortgage debt.
His arm throbbed with pain at the slightest movement—he was an injured man himself.
The employees hung a small wooden sign reading “Temporarily Closed” at the inn’s entrance and dispersed. Some cleared the collapsed wooden racks, while others fetched buckets and mops to scrub the stains from the floor.
Food scraps were one thing, but there was quite a bit of blood on site, and once it seeped into the floorboards’ cracks, it was especially stubborn.
Xie Jianxun helped Alex to a nearby chair to rest while they waited for the physician.
Alex hissed in pain but still directed everyone efficiently.
“There’s a powerful cleaner I just bought in the corner of the first-floor restroom, next to that mop. You, go grab it. This pile doesn’t need the strong stuff—it probably won’t come clean anyway… Bah, bad luck.”
Xie Jianxun grabbed an apron handy, twisted it dry, and tied it on, ready to lend a hand.
He and One together shifted a heavy wooden table out of the way, making the space easier to sweep.
He also snatched a cloth and wiped the footprints off a stool’s seat.
He thought, the head steward definitely wouldn’t know that in the short time he’d been out, he could handle housework so handily.
Soon, the floor was mopped spotless, gleaming as before.
But after such a farce, no one was in the mood to work.
Some employees finished tidying up and came to say goodbye to their boss.
Alex was clearly distracted too, so he gave everyone the night off to rest well.
The physician arrived, extracted the bullet from the young boss, treated him, and left briskly.
Once everyone had gone, night fell over Slieberlich, plunging it back into quiet.
Alex pushed himself up and barely managed to retrieve an unbroken bottle of liquor from a high shelf. He bit the cap off with his teeth and took a swig.
Xie Jianxun stood up in surprise. “You’re hurt this bad and you’re drinking?”
The young boss mumbled, “It hurts a bit. A drink to take the edge off.”
Fair enough, Xie Jianxun thought of that bullet embedding in his arm—it must have hurt like hell. Alex deserved credit for not screaming once, just gritting his teeth through it.
He decided to change the subject, to distract the injured man from his wound—and himself too. For instance, pondering just what One was.
“That group… I mean, how did you know they’d sided with the Sand Bandits?”
“They robbed us,” Alex said curtly.
Xie Jianxun blinked in confusion. “Just like that?”
The young boss looked shocked. “What else? They robbed us!”
Xie Jianxun hurried to clarify, “Uh, I mean, desperate measures in the heat of the moment to survive?”
“Oh, you don’t know the custom here. That’s normal.”
Alex took another swig, but soon broke into a grimace from the burn. Xie Jianxun couldn’t help chuckling.
“What’re you laughing at…”
Alex bared his teeth at him, looking for once like the young man he was.
“Here, whether in Golden City or other settlements, anyone from merchant caravans or Adventure Groups swears an oath before entering the Desert: no matter the hardship, never attack fellow travelers. Otherwise, you’ve sided with the Sand Bandits and lost your way, since only they are allowed controlled weapons in the Desert.”
Xie Jianxun got it. The Sand Bandits weren’t just a group; they were a symbol of moral failing, like pledging to a dark god.
Alex went on, “Some Sand Bandits pretend nothing happened and sneak back to the city. Others stay outside, rebuilding camps at Desert oases. They harass legitimate caravans constantly, but the City Lord’s Mansion can’t do much about them.”
He shrugged. “The call to exterminate the Sand Bandits has been shouted time and again, but never succeeds.”
Xie Jianxun wondered, “Once you’ve sided with the Sand Bandits… no chance to turn back?”
Alex replied, “Then they should turn themselves in to the City Lord’s Mansion.”
Clearly, those who erred didn’t do so, so the ‘Sand Bandits’ lived on in their hearts.
Xie Jianxun checked the time: eight o’clock.
Normally, this was the inn’s liveliest hour, with guests bustling in the first-floor hall, eating, chatting. Scattered Adventure Groups held team meals at corner tables.
Someone might sing now and then, met with cheers and applause.
But now, aside from them, the place was empty.
The upstairs guests had been warned not to come down.
No dinner yet—the cook had bolted.
Alex was injured, One had no cooking module loaded, so Xie Jianxun figured he could salvage things.
He volunteered, “I’ll do it! I want to try cooking anyway.”
Alex eyed him skeptically. “You sure?”
To prevent a kitchen fire, One assisted him. Alex, with one arm in a sling, gave voice commands for “employee Xiao Xie” to cook.
“First, chop some veggies… Finer! You feeding that to pigs?”
“Then heat the wok. Right, fire on, press harder, don’t fear the flame… Whoa, jumping back? It won’t burn you—get the wok on the stove. You gonna run off with it?”
“Good, add oil. Nice, nothing else, but the oil’s slick.”
“Toss ’em in, stir-fry, just like that.”
The kitchen wok was huge, no home stove.
Xie Jianxun sweated bullets, wrists shaking; he couldn’t heft it. One took over.
Xie Jianxun sighed in relief. “Thanks!”
Finally, Xie Jianxun carried plates to the kitchen door, peeking as One finished up. Alex’s throat went dry from instructions, stunned at how equally abysmal their cooking skills were.
At last, golden-hued fried rice hit the table, scooped and plated.
Xie Jianxun clasped his hands, feeling utter peace.
The Golden Fried Rice God!
Before eating, he thought, the pot was too big this time. Next time, success… Then he perked up and dug in happily.
After two bites, the inn door creaked open. Everyone jolted up from their seats like Pavlov’s dogs.
Basero rushed in and froze at their reaction. “Sit, sit—everyone sit?”
Alex exhaled.
He asked, “What about that group?”
Basero pulled up a chair beside them. “City Lord’s Mansion prison took them successfully. Just awaiting trial—they’ll compensate you too.”
The Captain grinned, spreading his hands. “And good news.”
Alex prompted, “Let’s hear it.”
Basero said, “The City Lord’s Mansion pried the Sand Bandit Camp’s location from them—a fixed oasis coordinate. Expect a bulletin soon, rallying interested caravans, Adventure Groups, and lone mercenaries to wipe them out.”
Alex was surprised; he hadn’t expected such a big catch. “That’s real good news.”
Basero eyed their fried rice and leaned in. “Got any for me?”
One nudged its portion toward him. Basero blinked, waving it off. “Nah, kidding—I ate. More and I’d burst.”
He leaned back, laughing. “Old bro, that move earlier was slick. How many years to lift a guy one-handed like that?”
He said it laughing, but his eyes locked on One.
Meanwhile, Alex set down his utensils, hesitant. He knew more than Basero—like One not being human, but a Mechanical Puppet.
He just hoped the Mechanical Puppet wouldn’t take the probing badly.
It… probably wouldn’t? One’s emotions had stayed stable.
“And that knife…”
One stood and turned sideways, like a movie slow-mo at half speed, letting them clearly see the Long Knife drawn inch by inch.
As if a broken leg bone naturally slid from its waist.
Sheathing it, the skin at its waist knit seamlessly, like nothing happened.
One sat back down and regarded the humans opposite.
The Mechanical Puppet said calmly, “Factory standard.”
Basero stammered, “Fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh—”
Xie Jianxun helpfully explained, “It means it’s its weapon.”
Basero: “…So you’re not human!”
The usually hearty caravan captain was thoroughly spooked, eyes wide. He couldn’t help replaying the journey, wondering if he’d offended it.
Good—he’d been warm, kind; its impression must be fine.
He wiped his face and sat. “Sorry, old bro,” Basero said awkwardly. “First time seeing a non-human… What’d you call it?” Alex prompted. “Oh right, Mechanical Puppet. Just shocked.”
His eyes flickered, deep in thought.
Xie Jianxun nibbled his spoon, glancing between them.
Finally, he targeted the chattiest one, One: “Won’t you try a bite? Savoring food’s part of life—especially my fried rice.”
“You’re quite bold,”
The Mechanical Puppet lowered its gaze, voice softening toward Xie Jianxun compared to the other two. “I took over midway; you just watched.”
The pretty little server said, “But I seasoned it… How is it?”
One: “A bit salty.”
Xie Jianxun: “Hey!”
Can’t say something nice to cheer him up?
Basero: “Uh, Alex, how much you pay him a day?”
The young boss bristled. “What’re you getting at? This is your gift—I hired him. My employee!”
Basero hinted subtly, “Don’t you think he’s perfect for the job?”
Xie Jianxun: “What’re you talking about?”
The subject of discussion watched them silently, gaze vacant yet sharp.
Just one look from it made Basero’s hairs stand on end—not illusion anymore; it was just that dangerous.
“Listen,” the seasoned caravan captain stuttered a bit, “You’re tough in a fight, and my team’s short a bodyguard. Ahem… In the Desert, three thousand a day. How’s that?”
