"Go back and tell your boss this—stop tailing us and trying to find your Harbinger. Three days from now, bring the Mora honestly and redeem him like proper people!"
Honestly, after saying that, Jiang Bai felt like some shady underworld thug.
The two Debt Collectors sprawled on the ground before him looked like a pair of pitiful white lilies that had just been trampled. If a self-righteous hero happened to pass by right now, they'd probably think Jiang Bai was some ruthless villain and come charging in to "serve justice."
Unfortunately for them, Mt. Tianheng was a place few ever set foot in.
Paimon copied Jiang Bai's posture, striking the same expression, looking every bit the "Underworld Lackey No. 2." "That's right, that's right! Bring the Mora and redeem your man!"
"And don't think you can rescue him from us!" Aether, playing along as "Underworld Lackey No. 3," folded his arms and put on his most serious expression. "Your Harbinger already lost to us. Life is precious—don't throw away more for nothing."
Of course, the two Debt Collectors weren't just going to retreat. The only way to truly know how strong these people were was to fight them.
Seeing them draw their weapons, Jiang Bai stepped back a few paces, clearing the stage.
"Go, Aether! Show them what you've got!"
Aether's mouth twitched slightly as he gave Jiang Bai a silent, exasperated look.
Still, he said nothing. Handling two Debt Collectors was nothing to him—especially when he could wield two elements.
As expected, it ended in an instant. The two Fatui were left bruised and swollen, lying on the ground without any strength to resist.
Aether sheathed his sword calmly, hiding his merit and fame.
Jiang Bai crouched, patting one of the men's faces lightly. "You should learn your limits. Be glad we're not the bloodthirsty type—or you'd be more than just 'defeated.'"
"That's right, that's right!" echoed Paimon dutifully, ever the loyal sidekick.
...
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, three silhouettes radiating ominous "underworld energy" disappeared into the crimson dusk.
Entering Liyue Harbor, Paimon puffed up proudly. "Well? My acting was pretty good, wasn't it?"
"Not bad, not bad! You've got potential for organized crime!" Jiang Bai gave her a thumbs-up.
"Good thing the Millelith didn't see us," Aether muttered. "Otherwise, they'd have arrested all of you on the spot."
Jiang Bai chuckled. "Relax—if anyone's getting arrested, you'd be coming with us."
On their way back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Jiang Bai made a detour to Bubu Pharmacy to buy some medicine. Of course, not healing medicine—he bought the infamous Soft Tendon Powder.
Childe was too dangerous a man to let his injuries make them drop their guard. Dosing him was absolutely necessary.
...
Time passed in the blink of an eye. Three days later, the time of the exchange arrived.
Jiang Bai and Aether carried a coffin—yes, a coffin—making a bit of a ruckus as they went, arriving early at the agreed location.
Childe, who was once again lying inside the coffin, was unsurprisingly unconscious—tenfold sleeping draught mixed with tenfold Soft Tendon Powder would've knocked out an elephant.
And as for how they got him to take it?
Too easy.
People have to eat, don't they? Slip it into the food, and if he didn't want to starve, he had to eat.
And if he refused to eat? Well, Jiang Bai could always pry his mouth open and shove it down.
When you abandon chivalry, nothing's impossible.
At ten o'clock that night, Mt. Tianheng was pitch black, not a light in sight. The twisted branches of the trees reached out like monstrous claws, ready to snatch whoever dared trespass.
Floating beside the coffin, Paimon felt her tiny hairs stand on end. With the scattered joss paper fluttering around and the eerie setting, even though she knew Childe was inside, the whole thing still gave her chills. She quickly volunteered to "keep watch."
Before long, the delegation from Northland Bank arrived.
At the sight of the coffin—and the entire burial setup—the Deputy Manager's face went dark.
"You killed our Harbinger!"
"How could we? We're honest people," Jiang Bai said, lighting a luminescent stone and lifting the coffin lid. Inside, Childe slept soundly, as peaceful as a fairy-tale prince.
His recovery speed was truly remarkable.
In just three days, the bruises Jiang Bai had given him were completely gone, and even his internal injuries had mostly healed.
If Jiang Bai hadn't kept secretly drugging him, he might've been up and running already.
Experience really does come with age.
"You can send someone to verify he's your Childe. We'll also need to verify the Mora," Jiang Bai said, staying by the coffin while motioning for Aether and Paimon to count the money.
The Bank's people brought two huge burlap sacks. After all, three hundred million Mora wasn't a small amount—converted into coins of 1,000 denomination, that made three hundred thousand Mora pieces.
Paimon's eyes sparkled as she stared at the two bags, looking like she wanted to dive in and roll around.
Aside from face value, Mora also came in varying sizes and weights.
To count it all, Jiang Bai had specially consulted a Liyue moneychanger and commissioned a super-sized counting mold.
Each mold could hold exactly one thousand coins of 1,000 value—when perfectly filled, the count was exact.
Seeing this contraption, the Deputy Manager's mouth twitched.
He had actually considered shorting the amount a little—after all, counting three hundred million Mora properly would take all day. But to be safe, he hadn't done so.
And now, it seemed that caution had paid off.
"The amount checks out." After counting the two large sacks, Aether looked thoroughly pleased.
Three hundred million Mora! Even if he only got a tenth of that, he'd still be rich!
"One hand for the person, one hand for the money!"
A Fatui agent hauled the unconscious Childe out of the coffin. His fingers twitched slightly, his body's battle instincts forcing him to stir even under the tenfold drug dose.
Jiang Bai couldn't care less whether Childe woke up or not. He and Aether each grabbed a sack of Mora and strode away without looking back.
As their silhouettes disappeared into the darkness, one Debt Collector made a throat-slitting gesture.
"Sir, should we—"
"Don't create unnecessary trouble." The Deputy Manager's voice was cold, his eyes filled with barely restrained hatred—he'd love nothing more than to cut them into pieces—but he shook his head.
"They managed to defeat Childe himself. If you go after them, you're just throwing your lives away."
After all, the Mora they had just handed over had come entirely from Childe's own savings.
Painful, yes—but remembering whose money it was, it suddenly didn't hurt so much.
"Check Lord Childe's condition. Once he's stable, we leave."
"Yes, sir."
Before long, under their treatment, Childe slowly regained consciousness.
The moment he woke, Hydro energy surged instinctively into a blade in his hand, his reflexes pulling him into a combat stance. Only after seeing familiar faces did he relax slightly.
Scanning his surroundings, feeling the strange weakness in his limbs, he frowned.
"What's going on? Where are we?"
He could barely lift his arm; his whole body felt drained, and his head was still foggy.
"Lord Childe, you've been drugged. Your body hasn't recovered yet. We paid three hundred million Mora to ransom you."
The Deputy Manager spoke respectfully—but wisely omitted the part about it being Childe's own savings.
What's done is done; no need to provoke him further.
"Three hundred million?" Childe's eyes widened.
But soon, he shrugged it off.
After all, if the Fatui paid to ransom him, that meant the money came from Northland Bank. As long as Pantalone was willing to smooth things over, it wasn't really his concern.
---
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