Chapter Eight: Locust Town (Part One)

Time flew by amidst continuous study and cultivation, and before they knew it, two weeks had slipped away.

While Huey's strength had undoubtedly improved once again, the bandits had also undergone a complete metamorphosis. By now, even the most ferocious of them had gained a deep understanding of the tedious and complex etiquette of high society.

In the bandits' own words, "If some noble pretending to be a pauper walked right past my eyes now, he wouldn't stand a chance of fooling me."

Subconsciously, their habit of putting what they learned into practice led them to frame their new knowledge around a single standard: "making it easier to rob wealthier targets in the future." The bandits still approached every problem with the mindset of brigands.

To their very bones, they remained thoroughbred outlaws.

Huey did not mind this in the least—after all, he had never needed true gentlemen to begin with.

After assessing the bandits' progress, he decided it was time to proceed with the next phase of his plan.

"Reller." Huey finished his cultivation early today.

"Master, what are your orders?" The former iron-blooded brute now wore gold-rimmed spectacles and a decent suit of formal wear, practicing the walking posture of a nobleman. If not for the bulging, rugged flesh on his face—reminiscent of Arnold Schwarzenegger—it would have been hard for anyone to associate him with the vicious bandit of two weeks ago.

"I have noticed that everyone has made rapid progress recently. At least, I no longer hear them using profanity."

"Yes, we have learned to curse in our hearts instead," the brute replied in a muffled, booming voice.

"That is a good sign... and you do not need to tell me who the target of your curses is," the youth smiled. A large handful of glittering gold coins appeared in his palm. "Take this money and distribute it among the men. It is a reward for their diligent studies—thirty gold vitets for each person. Tell them that starting today, they no longer need to study etiquette. Furthermore, they can take the money I gave them and go have some fun in the nearby town."

Reller Yessa could hardly believe his ears.

"Are... are you speaking the truth, Master?"

"Are you questioning me?" Huey asked languidly. His tone was calm, yet it carried a trace of chilling sharpness.

"Oh, no, Master, I meant..." Reller Yessa grinned widely as he took the pile of money. "You are indeed a very generous master. The brothers will go mad with joy when they hear this news."

"Yes, they will go mad, because from now on, they are no longer allowed to spend money on girls in brothels, they cannot go to casinos to gamble, and they can no longer drink cheap, harsh liquor. They must enjoy life according to the rules I have set for them. And by that, I mean... enjoying life like nobles."

Reller Yessa's eyes went wide and round. "You mean..."

The youth casually spread his hands. "The theoretical phase is over; now comes the internship. Do not forget that you are no longer thugs, scum, and villains, but elegant gentlemen. Isn't the purpose of learning to put it into practice? You must know that a true noble would never resort to such vulgar means as paying for prostitutes."

"I think I understand what you mean. You mean my brothers must use sweet words to coax some wench into their beds, rather than just using money to get it done."

"Exactly."

"That is a very difficult demand."

"That is for you to figure out. By the way, remind your brothers not to think of running away, let alone betraying me. You should know that alchemists have far too many ways to control others—for instance, a certain type of poison that can lie dormant in a person's body for a very long time."

Reller Yessa's face twitched several times.

"Then... as you command, my wise and benevolent master. I believe they will be absolutely thrilled to receive this news," Reller Yessa said, bowing through gritted teeth as he performed a textbook salute.

*This damned little devil, this evil wanted criminal, this inhuman, twisted brat! He is rotten to the core, pure evil from head to toe! He actually poisoned us!*

Watching Reller's angry retreating figure, Huey's face lit up with a smug smile. "I'm very bad, aren't I, Xu?"

Xu nodded furiously. Learning magic recently had exhausted him as well.

As a small mountain town, Locust Town had never lacked experience in dealing with bandits.

After robbing merchant caravans, the bandits would come to the town to sell off valuable goods, then use the proceeds to indulge themselves wildly. They would drink heavily, pick fights, stir up trouble, and finally find a girl in a brothel to vent their excess energy, until their leader dragged them out of bed to return to their territory and lie in wait again.

Such was the life of these bandits, a repeating cycle until the day they were caught or killed.

Of course, there were occasional exceptions—such as being groomed into nobility.

In any case, because of this, Locust Town never lacked chaos and violence, nor did it lack various places of pleasure.

Simply put, it was a paradise for adventurers.

The Bilias Mountains did not belong to Reller's band of bandits alone; there were other factions that checked and balanced one another, while also offering mutual aid and sharing information. As their shared playground, every bandit did their part to maintain the unique blend of chaos and order in Locust Town.

In truth, Locust Town was not officially registered on the Empire's list of towns. It had arisen entirely out of the local rogues, bandits, and outlaws' need for a stable backyard. Adventurous merchants, profit-seeking locals, and exiled warriors with nowhere else to go had self-organized, gradually growing and expanding the settlement by catering to the bandits' demands. Grain by grain, it eventually formed a town. Consequently, there were no Imperial guards, no mayor, and no walls here. There were only the strongest local syndicates and various bands of bandits who came at irregular intervals to fence stolen goods, get drunk, and find women.

As a result, the town's commerce consisted entirely of taverns, casinos, brothels, and shops that bought stolen goods, with very few other industries.

Old Bill's "Fighter" Tavern sat right at the entrance of the town and was the largest tavern around.

As the name "Fighter" suggested, the tavern's most entertaining daily spectacle was a crowd of drunken brutes brawling with one another. They would frequently smash the place to pieces, only to casually pull out a sum of money to compensate the tavern owner.

There was no need to worry about the bandits reneging on their debts.

Locust Town had its own rules: even bandits did not want to lose their privileges to drink and enjoy themselves here for the rest of their lives.

Of course, if a bandit truly lost his head and tried to make trouble, Old Bill, a fifth-rank warrior, did not mind stepping in personally to teach the bastards a lesson.

Today, following his usual habit, Old Bill sat at the town entrance, lounging lazily on his deck chair to soak up the sun. This reclining chair had been carved from the native marine wood of Detland when the Duke of Bauhinia conquered the region in the sixteenth century. The armrests were carved with the image of the sea god worshipped by the priests of Detland, bordered by exquisite filigree.

Three years ago, a merchant had tried to transport this chair to Wenlington to sell it for a handsome price, but he ended up being plundered by the local bandits.

After that, it became part of Old Bill's collection.

He bought it for a mere ten gold vitets and now lay on it every day, enjoying the pleasant sunlight.

The greatest advantage of dealing with bandits was their complete lack of discernment; with eyes only for gold coins, they had absolutely no appreciation for the value of art.

As Reller and his men gradually came into view at the town entrance, Old Bill was basking in the sun on his beloved reclining chair. When he spotted them, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

Reller, leading the pack, wore a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. A black velvet vest over a snow-white silk shirt gave him an air of noble elegance, paired with loose black woolen breeches and a pair of highly polished, soft-soled riding boots. In his hand, he held a gentleman's cane.

Behind him, all forty-five bandits were dressed in a similar fashion.

"Oh, my god! Nathan! You stupid boy, get over here!" Bill shouted at the top of his lungs.

A tavern hand rushed out. "Boss, is something wrong?"

Bill pointed toward the entrance of the town. "Look over there! Gods, forgive my eyes! Is that Reller Yessa?"

The boy looked in the direction of Bill's finger. "Oh, it does look like him. My god, why are they dressed like that?"

"Are you sure you're seeing what I'm seeing?" Old Bill asked.

"I'm absolutely sure, Boss. That's Reller Yessa. Look, the guy next to him is Barth, that kid still owes me twelve silver vitets. Oh, and Singer too. Heavens, their outfits are truly bizarre."

"I reckon they must have struck it rich," Old Bill muttered. "I didn't hear about any wealthy caravans passing through lately."

The boy said, "Those clothes are made of top-quality fabrics. What a waste to wear them on those guys."

"Look at how they walk; they really think they're nobles now." Old Bill shook his head. "Hurry up, you bastard, bring out the best strong liquor. Looks like they're going to drink heavily today."

"Right away, Boss." The boy ran back into the tavern.

"Remember to water it down, you rascal!"

"Understood, Boss!"

When Reller Yessa arrived at the Fighter Tavern with his crew, Old Bill stood up.

He spread his arms wide to embrace him, shouting, "Oh, Reller, my old friend! I haven't seen you in so many days, I thought you'd been captured by the Empire and thrown onto death row. Look at you! You son of a bitch must have struck it rich!"

To his surprise, Reller Yessa did not return the embrace. On the contrary, as Bill approached, Reller took off his hat and performed a textbook gentlemanly tip of the hat. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my old friend."

This gesture froze Old Bill's embrace mid-air.

"What the devil!" Old Bill cried out, his bushy beard trembling. "What am I looking at? A gentleman?"

He looked past Reller Yessa.

Forty-five bandits bowed in unison. "It is a pleasure to meet you!"

Bill stared at Reller and his group, dumbfounded, the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching. "Oh, my god. I must be seeing things, and my ears must be playing tricks on me. Am I really getting old? No, no, I just turned fifty. What on earth is going on? Are you not Reller? Are you his brother?"

Reller Yessa replied in a humble tone, "Your eyes do not deceive you, Mr. Bill. I am indeed Reller Yessa. Reller Yessa has no brother. And even if I did, what of my companions behind me? You wouldn't happen to meet forty-six pairs of twins at once, would you?"

"Ha! You call me 'Mr.'? You address me as 'sir'?"

"Yes, if you prefer, sir."

"No, I don't prefer it! What the hell are you sons of bitches playing at? Every time you come here, you're carrying that massive greatsword of yours just to scare people. And when have you and your bastard brothers ever failed to get drunk and smash my tavern to pieces? Since when did a filthy, barbaric rogue like you become so refined?"

"I am deeply sorry for that."

"No, you don't need to be sorry. You should know that's exactly why I like you! If you don't break things, I don't make money. Relying solely on selling booze? That's not enough."

Thinking it over, Old Bill shook his head. "Alright, whatever tricks you're playing, get your asses into my tavern right now. Nathan has already prepared your favorite strong liquor."

The rugged flesh on Reller's face squeezed into a hideous smile. "Actually, Mr. Bill, we will not be drinking strong liquor this time. If possible, we would like something milder. For instance... fruit wine."

"Fruit wine?" Bill's eyes bulged once more.

"If you have none, rum would suffice, or perhaps cocktails. Gentlemen do not drink strong spirits... or if they do, only very sparingly."

"Gentlemen?" Old Bill almost fell over. "To hell with gentlemen! Reller, you son-of-a-bitch bandit, you're a bunch of savages, and now you're standing in front of me pretending to be fucking gentlemen? Oh, my god, this is too ridiculous! Reller, I'm warning you, don't try to mess with me. If you dare play me, I'll beat you to a pulp, and maybe that'll remind you who the hell you are! You're a fucking bandit! And a bandit leader at that! You shouldn't be wearing those goddamned gold-rimmed glasses! You should be wearing an eyepatch! That would make you look fiercer! What, do you plan to change your style of robbery? Walk up to a merchant caravan with your men in these clothes and ask them to hand over their money using words like 'please' and 'sir'? You twisted freak!"

Old Bill lunged forward, snatched Reller's glasses off his face, threw them to the ground, and stomped them to pieces.

Reller did not show the slightest hint of anger. "If you do not have any, we can go to another tavern."

Old Bill stared at Reller. "So you're serious about this?"

Reller's smile was strained, the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching.

Old Bill finally realized something was amiss.

He frowned as he scanned Reller's crew, realizing that every single bandit's expression seemed slightly off.

He nodded and whispered, "I see. Tell me, Reller, if you're being threatened by someone, blink your eyes at me."

Reller blinked furiously.

Old Bill sucked in a sharp breath.

He bellowed toward the tavern, "Nathan!"

"Yes, Boss!" The boy rushed out of the tavern. "All the liquor is ready."

Old Bill said in a low, grim tone, "Swap the liquor. Bring out the fruit wine and rum we received a few days ago. Our guests wish to be refined today."

The boy looked around in astonishment, then turned back to Old Bill. Once he was sure the boss wasn't joking, his tongue tied itself in knots as he answered, "But Boss, we haven't had time to water those down yet."

"I despise your incompetence!" Old Bill kicked the boy away.

He tilted his head toward Reller. "Very well, distinguished guests, please follow me. On behalf of Locust Town, Old Bill welcomes you."