NOVEL Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem Chapter 822: Bounty [Bonus]

Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Chapter 822: Bounty [Bonus]
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Chapter 822: Bounty [Bonus]

A slow, deliberate motion. A man forged in war sinking down into the dust like he had all the time in the world for this one child.

Feng Jiai cried. "Quinlan! Stand back up, you’re terrifying enough already! She’s going to think you’re here to eat her!"

He didn’t listen to her one bit. n𝚘𝚟𝚙𝚞𝚋.𝚌o𝚖

"She’s not afraid of me," he said softly, not taking his eyes off the girl. "She’s afraid of what she lost."

"...You’re still looking like a demon from a nightmare..." Feng muttered, but stayed back.

Quinlan loosened the ties of his bloodstained upper robe and let it slip down from his shoulders, exposing bare skin marred with the weak but visible glow of meridian lines beneath. Without the gore, without the trappings of death, he looked... human again.

He met the girl’s eyes gently.

"My name is Quinlan. I have a little girl, too. She’s a bit younger than you, and you know what she does whenever she learns that I got hurt?"

The girl sniffled, confused, rubbing her eyes. "...W-what?"

"She bosses me around," he said with a mock-serious tone, making a little face. "Tells me I can’t go fighting bandits without eating enough vegetables. Tells me I have to wear my armor right. Do you know why?"

The girl shook her head.

"Because when bad things happen, grown-ups sometimes... fall apart inside. That’s when we need strong little girls like you to help us. Your mother needs your help now more than ever. She’s hurting. Just like you. But she can’t show it in order to help you heal."

She hiccupped, struggling to breathe past the lump in her throat.

"But if you stand tall, if you’re brave for just a little longer," Quinlan whispered, reaching out a large, warm hand, "you’ll be the one to help her heal. And one day, when you’re big and strong, you’ll be the one to protect her. Just like this cheeky girl called Feng Jiai protected you today."

He finished by gesturing toward the oriental teen behind him, and the little girl’s gaze followed his pointed finger.

The child’s lip quivered, and then she burst into sobs again, this time collapsing forward.

Quinlan caught her gently in his arms, holding her small form close, letting her cry without shame.

Feng Jiai watched silently with a giant, proud smile visible on her face. Despite being called cheeky by the stupid oaf, she still found this moment very tender. "Quinlan, huh..." she muttered under her breath.

After a moment, Quinlan pulled back slightly, brushing the girl’s hair behind her ear. "Wanna see how the world looks from really high up?"

She blinked at him confusedly.

Then nodded slowly, wiping her tears with both fists.

A moment later, she giggled as he lifted her easily, settling her on his shoulders. His large hands gripped her ankles protectively, steadying her.

"Waaah! Mama, Mama! You’re so small!"

Her mother choked out a teary laugh, covering her mouth before liquid welled in her eyes once again.

The little girl grinned widely, bouncing on his shoulder as if she were riding a horse. "I can see everything from up here! Even the scary uncle’s bald spot!"

"The what?! Kid, your eyes should get checked. I have no bald spots whatsoever..." Quinlan muttered, making multiple women chuckle.

"You’re certainly getting up in age, hehe!" Feng Jiai chirped from behind him.

He sighed and waved her off as if she were an annoying mosquito.

They made the journey for Zhaokun on foot.

The travel took a day and a half, with the rescued women and children resting under makeshift tents when night fell. Quinlan kept to the edges of the camp, watching the perimeter and ensuring no beasts—or worse, men—threatened them again.

When they finally reached the southern gates of Zhaokun, the city guards were immediately on edge. It wasn’t every day a war-stained man with blood-blackened robes marched into town with a small procession of battered villagers and orphans trailing behind him.

Thankfully, Feng Jiai handled the introductions.

"Here are a village’s worth of women we rescued after devastating a large outlaw camp. The big oaf has the boss’s head, which should serve as proof. Where do we collect our bounty?"

The guards raised their brows in a frown but when they saw the one-eyed head of the bandit captain, they knew she was not kidding around.

And then they directed the group to the city’s magistrate’s office.

Within the hour, after testimonies were recorded and the names of the villagers confirmed, they were handed a scroll stamped with official seal markings.

"That bandit had a 10-lìng bounty," the clerk muttered, counting out polished jade chips onto the desk.

Quinlan accepted the pouch of currency without comment. He didn’t care about the recognition. Only the reward.

Later, as they bid the women farewell outside the city’s gates, he pulled out the sack of commoner coins looted from the camp. It was heavy, dull, and entirely worthless to someone like him.

But not to them.

"Here," he said, handing one woman the first share. "For all of you. Use it to find shelter. Start your life anew. Start a flower shop or whatever your heart tells you to. Or just burn it and dance around the ashes. Your choice."

The women were stunned. Some cried. Others bowed so deeply they nearly touched the ground. The little girl he’d lifted onto his shoulders earlier ran up to hug his leg tightly, burying her face against his side.

"Thank you, uncle. You’re not scary at all now."

"... Grow up strong, girl."

"I will! I promise!"

...

The next two weeks passed by in flashes of steel and smoke.

Zhaokun’s bounty board was plastered with the faces of outlaws, rogue cultivators, smugglers, and deserters.

He hunted them all as if he were the grim reaper himself.

Feng Jiai followed behind, offering commentary, occasionally even being somewhat helpful, and keeping him from forgetting how to smile. Each battle, each ambush, each skirmish honed his focus further.

Seventy-one lìng.

Eighty-four.

Ninety-three.

And then...

One last raid, one final outlaw chief, and no mercy.

The battle was short.

...

Quinlan stood in front of the magistrate’s office. His hands parted the big leather pouch slowly, and nestled in there, the hundred jade tokens glimmered.

Each one represented blood spilled, paths crossed, trials conquered.

His eyes lit up with primordial hunger.

It was time.

Time to evolve once again.

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