The Fiery Liu Erlong

Heaven Dou City, Mercenary Guild.

Liu Erlong slammed her herb basket onto the counter.

"Ten stalks of Dragon Breath Grass. The client is surnamed Wei, from the alchemy firm."

The manager flipped open the ledger to verify, then nodded. "Fifty gold soul coins—"

"Wait." Liu Erlong pressed her hand onto the ledger. "The commission sheet says fifty, that's the base price. Dragon Breath Grass only grows on the edges of dragon-type soul beast territories; the gathering zone is at least infested with one dragon beast over a thousand years old. For a job like this, guild rules dictate a danger premium."

The manager pushed up his glasses, his voice dry. "A premium requires confirmation from the client."

"Then have him confirm it." Liu Erlong stared at him, enunciating every word. "I was nearly flattened at the bottom of a cliff by an eight-thousand-year-old Red Flame Earth Dragon. You accepted this contract; you know its true danger level better than I do."

A thin layer of cold sweat beaded on the manager's forehead.

He had shoved this contract onto this twelve-year-old girl precisely because no one else dared to take it, betting that she didn't know the market rates.

He lowered his head and recalculated. The final figure: one thousand gold soul coins.

Liu Erlong tucked the heavy coin purse into her tunic and turned to walk away.

"Hey, isn't that the little bastard?"

At a table in the corner, a mercenary with a face full of jowls turned around, holding a wine cup.

Ma San, a level thirty-one Soul Grandmaster, had been knocking around the guild for seven or eight years. He was famous for his foul mouth and equally famous for his mediocre strength.

He had run into Liu Erlong at the guild entrance several times before and had always felt the urge to run his mouth, but he had never been drunk enough to do more than mutter under his breath.

Today, he was well and truly drunk, his voice loud enough for half the hall to hear.

"A little wench, a bastard nobody wants, and she dares to slam the table at the guild counter?"

He stood up, his frame as thick as a bear's, and swayed over to Liu Erlong. He breathed the stench of alcohol right into her face.

"You're quite a looker, and your temper is spicy enough—but you're just a fatherless, motherless little brat. You think you can just walk away with a thousand gold soul coins?"

He let out a drunken hiccup, stepped closer, and pointed a finger at her chest. "A bastard daughter, and you dare to—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

Liu Erlong grabbed the back of his head and smashed it downward with a violent force.

Ma San's face embedded directly into the oak table. The tabletop shattered with a roar, sending wood splinters, wine cups, and soup bowls flying in every direction.

His nose was crooked to one side, blood flowed down through the cracks in the table, and he passed out on the spot.

The entire guild hall fell deathly silent.

Ma San, a level thirty-one Soul Grandmaster, had been smashed into a table by a twelve-year-old girl with one hand, without even having the chance to summon his martial soul.

The three remaining mercenaries at the table jumped up, simultaneously manifesting their martial souls—two wolves and one bear.

Three soul rings lit up around them: two with three rings, one with two, their configurations messy and irregular.

"You little bitch—" the leader with the wolf martial soul began.

Behind Liu Erlong, the phantom of a flaming dragon claw manifested out of thin air.

Crimson vertical pupils, a top-tier Fire Dragon martial soul.

Three soul rings rose from beneath her feet—two yellow, one purple. The third, a purple soul ring, shimmered with light; it was a genuine thousand-year soul ring.

Her soul power fluctuated steadily at level thirty-three.

A three-ringed Soul Grandmaster.

A twelve-year-old Soul Grandmaster.

The three mercenaries turned to stone.

Every soul master in the hall watching the spectacle was stunned.

A bald, elderly mercenary dropped his wine cup onto the table with a clatter, not even noticing as the wine soaked his trousers.

She lunged at the wolf-type soul master, channeled power through her waist, and slammed a fist into his chest.

His protective soul power was torn away like paper. A crisp crack of ribs echoed out, and he was sent flying into the wall.

As the other two moved to attack, she sidestepped the bear-type's frontal palm strike.

She hooked his wrist and yanked it outward—crack, the wrist dislocated.

She stomped on the back of his knee, the sound of shifting bone making everyone gasp.

Before his scream could escape, her knee slammed into his chin, and the scream was cut short.

The last one turned to run.

Liu Erlong grabbed him by the collar, dragged him back, threw him to the ground, stepped on his chest, and leaned down.

"You had a hand in harassing me earlier, didn't you?"

"I... I..."

"Yes or no."

"Yes, yes, yes—"

With a slight exertion of force from her foot, another rib snapped.

The four men lay sprawled across the floor in a tangled heap, blood pooling beneath them as their groans rose and fell in succession.

Liu Erlong straightened up, brushing the messy hair from her forehead. Her breathing remained as steady as if she hadn't lifted a finger.

Her gaze swept across the entire hall, passing over every slack-jawed face.

"Anyone else who thinks I'm a bastard, step out. Come at me all at once."

No one made a sound.

The forty-plus mercenaries were as quiet as a room full of quails.

"If there's no one," she paused, her voice icy, "then whoever dares to spew filth in this guild again—these four will be the benchmark."

She turned and strode toward the main entrance.

Someone descended from the second floor of the guild.

It was a deacon, the guild emblem embroidered on his cuffs.

He glanced at the four men strewn across the floor, his brow furrowing tightly as he hurried to catch up.

"Young lady, beating people like this inside the guild isn't exactly following the rules, is it?"

Liu Erlong stopped.

She turned back.

Her crimson, slit-pupiled eyes stared straight into the deacon's, sending a chill down his spine and causing him to instinctively take half a step back.

"Rules?"

"Where the hell were you when these four animals were harassing me? Dozens of people in this hall, and not one of you stood up to make a peep. Now that I've beaten them, you come running out to talk about rules?"

"You've misunderstood, miss. I was handling affairs on the second floor just now and wasn't aware—"

"You're a guild deacon; this hall is your territory. You claim to be unaware of what happens on your own turf—then what are you even doing in this position?"

The deacon opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The facts were exactly as she said.

Besides, a young woman being harassed by these mercenaries.

How could she not be furious?

For a moment, he even felt a sense of resentment toward the mercenaries.

Who else could they have picked to bother?

They had to pick this fire dragon.

Liu Erlong didn't give him a chance to compose his words; she glanced at the men still groaning on the floor, then turned back, the corners of her mouth curling up.

"If you think this isn't over, you can have every mercenary outside come at me together. I'd like to see just how many healing-type soul masters you have to go around."

As soon as those words left her lips, the expressions of every mercenary in the hall changed. No one doubted her.

They had just witnessed her take down four mercenaries with decent soul power using only her bare hands, every punch hitting bone, every move showing no mercy.

This woman had absolutely no concept of holding back.

The deacon opened his mouth several times, but not a single word could squeeze out.

Liu Erlong withdrew her gaze, not sparing him another look.

She turned and strode out the main door.

The black liquid-like bodysuit outlined her sharp, upright silhouette, and the sound of her footsteps gradually faded away on the stone path.

The hall remained silent for a long time.

It wasn't until people began scrambling to help the wounded that the rustling sounds returned.

Fifty paces away from the guild entrance, Jiang Ce's voice drifted out leisurely.

"Crazy woman."

"Did that feel good?"

Liu Erlong froze, then the corners of her mouth curled up involuntarily.

This was the first time she had smiled sincerely since her mother's death.

"...It did."