Ignoring whether the girl was crazy or not, when she found a clean room, she shut the door and burst into tears. These past few months had brought her too much pain. She’d never imagined being captured and sold as a slave.

Her family was all gone now. Thankfully, she’d personally avenged them by killing the slave shop owner.

The girl had once been a bandit chieftain’s daughter. After her father died, her brother took over—but he was weak. A mere level-20 bandit leader was easy prey. Their hideout drew the attention of a rival gang. Leopard Head from the neighboring mountain had long coveted their territory.

One stormy night, they attacked. Everyone in her bandit clan perished except her. She was then sold to the slave merchant.

How she longed to return to carefree days. But she had no home now. How would she live? Drift aimlessly? Marry someday if given the chance?

This wasn’t the life she wanted.

She craved freedom. She hated being chained—perhaps the bandit spirit in her blood demanded it.

She stayed awake all night, lost in these thoughts.

When the sun rose, she rubbed her sore eyes and opened the door. She needed to wander. That beast (Qin Jun) had ordered her to cook and do chores yesterday. She refused. Only the old man seemed decent; the others looked utterly sleazy.

Coincidentally, right after stepping out, she spotted the old man tending flowers—Fulun.

Fulun turned, sensing her gaze. "Miss, you’re up early," he greeted with a warm smile.

Hena felt comforted. This elder truly was kind. "Good morning, sir. You’re early too," she replied, smiling back.

"This old body doesn’t need much sleep," Fulun chuckled.

"Yesterday, your silence made me think you were traumatized. But I see I worried for nothing." He pruned an overgrown branch as he spoke.

Hena blushed. "I just didn’t want to talk to your master or those three creeps. None look trustworthy—especially your master. He actually..." Her voice trailed off. What Qin Jun had done was too shameful to repeat.

"Anyway, your master’s no good. A beast worse than animals. I’ll never speak to him."

Fulun smiled. "Master isn’t purely good, but not evil either. He has mercy, enjoys mischief, and treats his subordinates well—ignoring petty rules. Rare in this world."

Hena scoffed. "Him? Just a country bumpkin with power."

Fulun laughed heartily. "True. Master knows little of the world. Where did he train to gain such strength?"

"Let’s not discuss him," Hena said lightly. "What should I call you, sir? I’m Hena."

"Call me Fulun, Miss Hena. I’m just the master’s steward."

"Nonsense—you’re my elder."

"Then I’ll accept your respect," Fulun conceded with a grin.

Hena asked, "Fulun, how long have you served your master?"

"A few days."

"Only days?"

Fulun nodded. "He bought me from the slave shop."

Hena’s eyes lit up. "I’m a slave too. Though he saved me, I’ll never thank him."

Fulun had guessed as much. "Didn’t we agree not to mention Master? Hungry? Let’s buy breakfast. He and those three boys should be awake."

Hena flushed. "I don’t know why I brought him up again. Yes, I’m starving."

"Follow me. I’ll change first."

"Okay!" Hena skipped behind him, her past sorrows momentarily forgotten. Truly, she had that bandit resilience—letting go of some pains, clinging fiercely to others.

Qin Jun saw her that morning, trailing Fulun and happily munching nian gao he’d bought her. But the moment Hena spotted Qin Jun, her face darkened. She gulped the nian gao whole. He never saw her expression soften again.

Qin Jun wondered if he’d gone too far yesterday. Any girl treated like that would want to kill him.

But he’d never admit fault. Ignore me? Fine. You live under my roof now—your future obeys my rules.

Qin Jun ordered breakfast served. Everyone sat together. Amov and the others were used to it; they’d been scolded repeatedly for not sharing meals. Here, slaves and subordinates dined freely with their master—a rarity in this world.

Hena was stunned. Was this Fulun’s "ignoring petty rules"? She slowly took a seat. The large table accommodated them all.

Fulun served rice, then joined them. Hena’s shock peaked as the three "sleazy" men scrambled for food. Qin Jun ignored them, eating calmly.

Hena stayed silent. She wouldn’t speak to *him*. But she started eating too—those three would devour everything otherwise.

Qin Jun didn’t notice her thoughts. After eating, he played with Phoenixbird. It had fully embraced being a pet, flying out daily to sightsee and admire pretty girls. Qin Jun often wondered where it went. When questioned, it lied stubbornly. (Where do you think Phoenixbird went?)

Qin Jun dropped it.

Bored at home, he told everyone to guard the place. He’d explore Falcon City properly for once.

No one volunteered to follow. Hena secretly hoped he’d leave faster—she’d feel freer without him.

Walking Falcon City’s streets, Qin Jun checked the slave merchant’s shop. It was charred ruins. He overheard whispers: "Yesterday’s fire raged wild—even water magic couldn’t douse it. Someone must’ve used powerful magic."

Indeed, Qin Jun had cast it. The flames only died when everything burned to ash.

After this detour, he browsed the market. Vendors sold everything; adventurers hawked Monstrous Beast carcasses and magic crystals.

Qin Jun examined items but found nothing intriguing.

As he turned to leave, a cloaked figure approached, murmuring, "Nothing here suits your taste? Care to see something... special?"

The man looked utterly ordinary—no hint of his trade.

Qin Jun grinned. "Lead on. I’ve got coin."

"You must trust us. Wear a blindfold. We’ll take you to our place."

"Fine by me." Qin Jun feared nothing. Even if ambushed now, no attack could touch him.

"Brave! Follow me." The man guided Qin Jun to a carriage and covered his eyes.

Qin Jun activated Perception Magic. It painted the world more vividly than sight—like a comic he’d read in his past life, where glasses built 3D models from network data. His version was full-color, indistinguishable from reality.

The carriage wound through alleys to a shadowy doorway.

The blindfold came off. "Welcome. This is the sanctuary of Necromancy. Interested?"

"Necromancy?"

The man helped Qin Jun down. "The world hunts necromancers, yet this magic is mighty. Reach level 99, and you summon a Bone Dragon."

"Why you? I sensed your aptitude. Though only level 20 now, mastering Necromancy will skyrocket your rank."

"Of course, you must first become my disciple."

Qin Jun was dumbfounded. He’d only wanted curiosities—not a random master offering forbidden magic. Did he even need teaching?