[Xu Lingqi]: Crow Boss, you're so rich already, can't you take pity on me? Just give me the tent! I'm sleeping in the open, don't you have any compassion?
Cheng Shuili rolled her eyes at the guilt-trip, ignoring the gawkers piling into the chat. She scanned the legit offers. [Oil Cat Bingbing]'s deal—ten iron blocks, twenty nails, one thermal insulation material—was the clear winner.
She flicked open a private chat and fired off a trade request. The other side didn't haggle, dropping the agreed goods and hitting accept.
Cheng Shuili stashed her new materials, humming a jaunty tune as she twisted the cart's handle, the "Everything 50% off!" speaker droning in the background. The open road stretched ahead, sun-baked and endless.
Barely a mile later, a structure loomed in the distance. Another random spawn? Her last encounter was a gas station; this could be anything. Curiosity prickled, but so did caution.
As she drew closer, a figure stood at the entrance, its silhouette… wrong. A massive shadow bulged where its head should be, like something out of a nightmare. Cheng Shuili's imagination conjured horrors, sending a shiver down her spine.
She shook it off. Get a grip. She'd died once—death was old news. Ghosts? Pfft.
Still… better not be.
She gunned the throttle, deciding on a flyby. If it looked dicey, she'd keep rolling. If it seemed safe, she'd stop and snoop.
Her radio crackled, spitting static before a halting voice broke through: "Today… special… store… employee ID… price… price 3999 game coins."
"Weekend benefits… market will open three hours early… at noon… twelve o'clock… coordinates… two kilometers from current location…"
"Two kilometers?" Cheng Shuili exhaled. The building had to be a trading post. Those were safe, right?
But that thing at the gate?
Squinting, she made out the shadow's shape. A cat head—literal, fluffy, and massive. The rest of the figure was human enough, decked out in a crisp white shirt, tie, tailored suit pants, and gleaming dress shoes.
It screamed "ceremonial greeter," the kind she'd seen in her past life standing at shop doors for a hundred bucks a day. The trading post's sign was weathered, like it had stood for decades, surrounded by iron netting. Through the gaps, stalls lined the interior, bustling with activity.
And right at the open gate? That cat-headed freak.
To get in, she'd have to pass it.
Sweat beaded on her palms, but she parked the cart. No way she was skipping this. Money or not, what if the first visitor scored an achievement? A silver treasure chest? She'd kick herself for missing that.
Fortune's for the fearless.
Gripping her baseball bat, she tucked the poisoned dagger at her waist, testing its draw—smooth. She stepped out, heart thudding.
The cat-headed creature's eyes snapped to her. As she edged closer, it spoke, voice startlingly human: "No weapons allowed in the trading post."
"Huh? Ah!" Cheng Shuili nearly yelped. That cat mouth moved, spitting actual human words!
"Ignorant, ugly human." It caught her shock, rolling its eyes with a mutter.
Cheng Shuili: "…?"
She hustled back to the cart, stashing the bat. Slyly, she kept the dagger hidden, her jacket concealing it perfectly. No way this furball would notice.
Ugly? She snorted. Monster taste was worlds apart from human. Maybe they drooled over faces buried in fur. Her brain conjured a shaggy horror, and she gagged, shaking the image away.
She strode toward the gate, hugging the farthest edge from the creature. But it darted in front of her, blocking her path. "First warning: no weapons allowed in the trading post. If you don't comply after three warnings…"
Its cat face twisted, baring teeth in a feral snarl.
Cheng Shuili flashed a sheepish grin. "No need for three, I'm different from the others you've met. I'm an honest person. I forgot, okay? I'll put it back now."
She yanked the dagger and lobbed it into the cart. Creepy. It hadn't patted her down or even glanced twice, yet it clocked her hidden blade. NPC powers? Or some game rule?
Intrigued and now sure it wouldn't attack, she lingered, testing the waters. "Uh, hello?"
No response. Undeterred, she plowed on. "I'm Cheng Shuili, human, female, in my twenties—pretty young for a human. Are you working here?"
The creature snorted, sizing her up with a critical stare before turning away. "I'm Mao Ning, 132 years old, also young for a beastman."
"And don't chat with the guard. First warning."
Cheng Shuili: "…"
Fine, I'll zip it. She marched into the trading post, Mao Ning letting her pass.
His curt words packed a punch. Beastmen—a new race, non-hostile, playing NPC roles. And long-lived, apparently. Working at 132? Either their lifespans were epic, or this was a raw deal.
She stole a glance. Mao Ning's head was snowy white. White cat, or age-bleached fur? Did beastmen's fur even gray? Shrugging, she let it slide. Not her circus.
Inside, the trading post thrummed with life. Roadside stalls lined the path, each manned by beastmen with animal heads—cats, bears, who knew what else. Beyond them gleamed a lavish emporium, its sign blazing: Beast Commerce Guild.
The beastmen perked up at her arrival, their human voices ringing out.
"Little lady, check out my stall! Our cat stalls never sell bad food—cakes, desserts, you name it!"
"Buy from me! I've got all the building materials and tools you need. Car trouble? Get your tools here at our bear stall!"
Cheng Shuili's eyes sparkled. Time to shop.