On the border of Huaxia, a nameless little mountain stood quiet under the sky.

Inside the wooden hut at the summit, an old man and a boy about seventeen or eighteen crouched beside a huge iron pot, staring at each other like two stubborn cats refusing to blink first.

“This is your payment for the job.”

Aurelius Whitmore poked the fire twice, then fished out two crumpled one‑hundred‑yuan bills from the pocket of his patched‑up coat. He handed them to Drake Ryder, who was squatting beside him with the expression of someone waiting for a miracle that never came.

Drake accepted the money with a gloomy face.

He honestly had no idea which dark corner his master had crawled into to pick up these ridiculous, world‑ending tasks for him.

He’d asked around too. The bounty for that Dragon of Minlong on the Red List went for thirty‑eight million. And what did he get for taking it down? Two pathetic, lonely little hundreds.

Where did all the money go?

Did Aurelius swallow it for himself?

Over the years, every payment Drake received had been broken numbers—sometimes fifty, sometimes eight hundred—and it all depended on how fast he finished the job.

Every time he thought about it, Drake felt like crying into the cooking pot.

He was an orphan, brought up the mountain by his master at the age of three. Since then, he’d learned medicine and martial arts from Aurelius, reading and writing from Rosalie Ryder.

Fifteen years had flashed by. He wouldn’t dare brag he was unmatched in the world, but in these mountains? If he roared once, even tigers would tremble three times.

His literary skills were just as solid—calligraphy, painting, poems, songs—everything Rosalie had taught him, he’d absorbed like a sponge.

Even so, he still lived meal to meal. And when the rice jar was close to empty, Aurelius would always “kindly” post another deadly assignment for him.

Long story short, to avoid starving, Drake spent every day hovering on the edge of life and death.

“Old man, seriously, are you messing with me? Two hundred bucks? I swear you’re hiding my share somewhere!” Drake finally exploded. After all, Aurelius had… a history.

“You should be grateful you’re getting paid at all. You think money drops from the sky these days? Look at your senior brothers and sisters. Which one of them isn’t struggling down the mountain? They all come crawling back, begging me and your mistress for help.” Aurelius rolled his eyes, speaking with that familiar tone of irritation that could make even a rock feel guilty.

Drake Ryder: "..."

Total defeat.

Yeah, he knew there was no way he could outtalk this skinny old man in front of him.

And fighting? Even worse. If he dared make a move, the only outcome would be him getting flattened.

How strong Aurelius Whitmore really was… Drake didn’t know. He only knew that even when all five of his senior brothers teamed up, they couldn’t even touch a single strand of the old man’s hair.

Every time Aurelius trained with them, he never showed his full strength. Drake worked so hard to improve bit by bit, yet every time he felt he'd finally caught up, the old man still managed to be just a tiny bit stronger.

Right at that moment, a stunningly beautiful woman stepped through the doorway. She was holding a kitchen knife in her left hand, fresh blood sliding from the blade’s tip. She took one glance at the master and apprentice squatting together and chatting, her expression instantly darkening.

"What are you two doing?"

Her voice was lovely, but when it hit Drake’s ears, he shivered. He jumped up and quickly poured the washed rice into the pot.

If anyone asked who he feared most on this mountain, it definitely wasn’t his irritable, stingy master—it was this breathtaking, drop‑dead gorgeous woman… his shifu‑mother.

Her name was Rosalie Ryder. Her exact age? Not a clue. Ever since Drake could remember, she’d always looked this young and beautiful. Ten-plus years had passed, and the years hadn’t left even a fingerprint on her face.

Aurelius once told him that Rosalie used to be ranked the number one beauty in the world.

Honestly… Drake totally agreed.

If there was one flaw about her, it was her temper—completely opposite of her gentle-sounding name.

Not gentle at all. More like a lit firecracker.

"Shifu‑mother, what’s so special today? You actually brought yourself to slaughter that rooster you've been raising for years?" Drake scooted over to Rosalie with a flattering smile.

"Didn’t your shifu tell you? This meal—it's your farewell dinner," Rosalie said casually.

Farewell?

Drake’s neck shrank back, and he stared at the blood-dripping knife in her hand. A chill climbed straight down his spine.

"Ahem…" Aurelius stood up, patting Drake’s shoulder. "Little Dragon, don’t overthink it. You’re eighteen already, and your training’s about done. Your shifu‑mother and I found you a job that'll keep you fed and clothed for life."

"Seriously?" Drake’s eyes widened. He vaguely remembered… his senior brothers and sisters also heard this same line once.

And then they left… and never came back…

"When have I ever lied to you?" Aurelius smacked the back of his head. "So? You going or not? If not, I’ll find someone else."

“Go? Of course I’m going!” Drake Ryder was practically shouting inside his head. A mission that could feed him for life—who in their right mind would turn that down? Even if it meant walking straight into a dragon’s den, he’d risk it. One gamble for a lifetime of freedom? Totally worth it.

They drank three rounds, the dishes long since cooled.

Aurelius Whitmore fished out a thick, oil‑stained bundle and tossed it across the table. “Your ID papers are in there, plus ten thousand in cash from the client. Head to Yunhai City and look for a man called Kendrick Thornfield at the Tang Group. He’ll arrange everything.”

The moment Drake heard “ten thousand,” his eyes practically lit up like someone had flipped a switch. But the next part… that made him pause.

“Tang Group? Master, the target of this mission is someone from the Tang Group?” Drake asked, puzzled.

Aurelius Whitmore took a slow sip of liquor. “Mm. Right. But this time you’re not killing anyone. You’re protecting someone.”

Protecting? Drake stared at the skinny old man, suspicion written all over his face. “Protect someone? And that’s supposed to guarantee I’ll never worry about food or money again?” All his past gigs involved stealing classified intel or eliminating enemy leaders. Babysitting? That was new.

The old man shot him a glare. “Not happy? Then I’ll give the job to someone else. Plenty of people would kill to take this mission.”

“No, no, I’ll go!” Drake panicked instantly. “Just tell me who I’m protecting!”

“Don’t know,” Aurelius said flatly, shaking his head. “Missions like this aren’t that easy to take. That ten thousand is just your living allowance. Work at the Tang Group for a while. After you pass their tests, the employer will contact you.”

Drake nodded slowly. If there was difficulty, there’d be reward. If the old man had handed him the target info directly, Drake would’ve thought the whole thing was sketchy.

“But think it through.” Aurelius Whitmore picked up another bite of food. “Once you accept this mission, you stick with it. No quitting halfway.”

“Why? What if it gets dangerous? I can’t run?” Drake frowned. He wasn’t the type to charge into certain death just because someone said so.

Aurelius set his chopsticks down with a sigh. “Forget it. Maybe I really should pick someone else. You aren’t cut out for this.”

“Don’t—Master, I’ll take it! I’ll take it, okay? Whatever other conditions you have, just say them. I can handle it!” Drake blurted.

Aurelius waved a hand. “That’s enough. I’ve got nothing else to say. Go kneel to your Mistress Rosalie. Raising you all these years wasn’t easy for her…” He looked up mid‑sentence, only to find the kid had already vanished.

He shook his head, a sly grin tugging at his mouth. “Little brat… you’re still a long way from being able to outsmart me…”