Chapter Fifteen: The Greedy Merchant

Upon hearing the Thorin knight’s interrogation of Mills, Xia Mingyu let out a slight sigh of relief and signaled Berg with his eyes to quickly blend into the crowd, preventing the hunter’s mark above his head from being seen.

He sensed that beneath the knight’s seemingly cold and stern exterior, his heart still leaned toward the villagers of Fruit Basket Village—or rather, that he did not wish to surrender the coins taken as taxes.

“Whoever claims something must provide proof.” This has been an unchanging principle since ancient times.

As long as Mills could not produce evidence that those taxes were the coins stolen from him, the matter would undoubtedly be dismissed.

“This…” Mills showed a troubled expression.

“Sir Knight, what if I fail to prove it?” he asked.

“Then you must leave my lord’s domain immediately. For the sake of your profession, I shall not hold you accountable for delaying tax collection,” the Thorin knight said coldly.

“Oh, Most High Creator, open Your eyes and see how cruel this world is to Your children!” Mills banged his chest in despair, but a sly glint flashed in his eyes.

“Sir Knight, please examine the taxes you have collected. Are there not faint, subtle scratches on the back of the coins, like on this copper Sol I have here?”

Having indulged his dramatic flair, Mills withdrew a copper Sol from his pocket and confidently handed it to the Thorin knight.

Every truly skilled Clay merchant would mark their coins with a unique sign, even if it were only a copper Sol—just as the venerable Clay sage and great merchant Franken wrote in his timeless classic, The Diary of Franken the Traveling Merchant.

That sage’s coins were once stolen by vile thieves, yet neither lords nor knights sided with him. Ultimately, the sage proved ownership by his unique mark, reclaimed his coins, and punished the despicable thieves.

Coins do not recognize men, but Clay coins do. — Franken

The Thorin knight took the copper Sol and examined it carefully, indeed finding an almost imperceptible, minuscule scratch on its reverse side.

His brow furrowed deeply.

“Bring me the money bags,” the knight commanded.

The attendants swiftly carried the previously confiscated money bags from the wagon to the knight.

Thorin reached into the pouch and extracted a handful of coins, scrutinizing them closely.

This one bears a scratch, this one too, but this one does not...

After a moment, the Thorin knight fell silent.

From his inspection, more than half of the coins in the bag bore scratches matching the copper Sol Mills had presented.

This meant that, in all likelihood, the taxes were truly coins the villagers had seized from the other party.

In truth, he did not wish for trouble in his domain, nor did he favor this traveling Clay merchant named Mills—especially since his profession was the notorious “liar merchant.”

But... lying is the privilege of a merchant, not a knight.

“Most of these taxes are indeed your stolen coins,” the Thorin knight finally said after a pause.

At this declaration, the villagers’ faces instantly grew anxious and uneasy.

Some sought to clarify that the coins were gifts from a noble prince, but others quickly clamped their mouths shut.

Beforehand, Village Chief Robert had decreed that the prince’s identity must remain secret; anyone daring to reveal it would have their entire family driven away to wander the land.

In this harsh world, forcing a farmer to wander meant a death sentence.

Watching this unfold, Xia Mingyu almost rose to his feet in astonishment.

He never imagined anyone would go to such lengths to mark even a single copper coin.

Yet, from the perspective of a cunning merchant, this fellow was quite competent.

Heroes of the world are as numerous as fish crossing a river—how plentiful they are!

Suddenly, this thought flashed through Xia Mingyu’s mind.

“Hahaha, I told you these coins are mine!” Mills laughed heartily, then eagerly reached into the money bag to pull out coins.

Swish!

A gleam of cold steel flashed as the Thorin knight drew his longsword, blocking Mills.

“Sir Knight, what are you—” the merchant staggered back several steps, startled and uncertain.

“Since your coins were stolen, go demand them from those who took them!” the knight said calmly.

“These are the taxes I have collected for my lord. If you dare lay hands on them, prepare to face my blade.”

“Rest assured, it is swift and grants the enemy a painless death,” the knight said, flicking his longsword with his finger. A crisp, clear ring echoed from the blade.

Feeling the unmasked icy killing intent, Mills’ expression darkened instantly.

He realized that even if he proved the coins were his, he could never reclaim them.

For they had been submitted as “taxes,” and a knight like Thorin would never return “taxes”—that would betray his duty.

“Damn it, damn it! This bastard knight is utterly ruthless. How can I possibly recover my losses?” Mills cursed furiously in his heart.

“How could these poor, impoverished farmers have money to repay me? Unless they sell—”

At this thought, a sudden gleam sparked in Mills’ eyes.

The farmers might have no money, but they were not necessarily worthless. Moreover, the village held more than just farmers...

He vaguely remembered the scoundrel who had shot an arrow at him bore the profession title of hunter above his head.

Mills quickly scanned the crowd. His gaze swept like a net over the anxious faces.

Unfortunately, Berg, prompted by Xia Mingyu’s silent signal, had already crouched low and hidden within the crowd, so Mills’ search proved fruitless.

“Farmers are just farmers—but could that hunter have been hired by them?” Mills thought angrily.

With Thorin knight present, he could not sell the villagers into slavery. Taking only a few farmers would not even cover the cost of the journey to the slave city!

At that moment, his peripheral vision caught sight of a young maiden in the crowd. Then, his gaze was fixed there, staring like a ravenous wolf.

“What a beautiful girl!” Mills marveled inwardly.

Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, each strand seemingly kissed by sunlight, shimmering with a gentle glow.

Her deep azure eyes resembled a clear sky reflected on a lake—capable of seeing through souls, yet filled with purity and innocence.

Though clad only in a coarse, rough linen coat, her slightly exposed snow-white skin and rose-petal lips were enough to make any man salivate.