The idea had seemed simple enough.
In an effort to drum up more business—and, more importantly, to give the tavern's more belligerent patrons something to do besides starting bar fights—Luo Feng had installed a massive oak quest board near the entrance. The rules were straightforward: anyone could post a job, and anyone could take one. A little community service with a side of profit. What could go wrong?
Everything, as it turned out.
Because Luo Feng had made one critical mistake.
He'd let the Fox Spirit near it.
The first sign of trouble came when Old Man Harlow, the beet farmer from the eastern valley, stormed into the tavern, his face nearly as red as his crops.
"You!" he bellowed, jabbing a gnarled finger at Luo Feng. "I demand compensation for emotional damages!"
Luo Feng blinked. "...What?"
Harlow slammed a piece of parchment onto the bar. It was one of the quest notices—or at least, it had been. The original message, written in the farmer's shaky handwriting, read: "Lost: One tabby cat, answers to Mr. Whiskers. Last seen near the mill. Reward: 5 silver coins."
Or at least, that's what it should have said.
Someone—and Luo Feng didn't need three guesses to know who—had crossed out the original text and replaced it with flowing, elegant script:
"Seeking: Brave soul to seduce the great dragon Vermithrax. Must enjoy long flights, treasure hoards, and aggressive cuddling. Reward: Belly rubs (yours or the dragon's, negotiable)."
Luo Feng closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened them again.
The words hadn't changed.
"Ah," he said weakly.
"Ah?!" Harlow spluttered. "I spent three days thinking I'd lost my mind! Then I find some fool actually tried it—nearly got us both roasted alive!" He leaned in, his breath smelling strongly of panic and cheap ale. "Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to have a dragon show up at your door asking why you stood them up?!"
From somewhere near the ceiling, a tinkling laugh echoed. The Fox Spirit lounged on one of the rafters, her tails swaying in delight as she observed the chaos she'd created.
Luo Feng shot her a look that promised retribution. She blew him a kiss.
By the end of the week, the quest board had become less a tool for gainful employment and more a source of surreal nightmares.
"Need help harvesting turnips" had become "Seeking apprentice for experimental turnip-based necromancy. No experience necessary (you'll be the test subject)."
"Looking for singing tutor" now read "Wanted: Duet partner for karaoke battle with the Siren Queen. Loser gets eaten (literally)."
And then there was the one that simply said: "Please ignore the Fox Spirit. She is a liar and a menace. -Management"
Which, of course, someone had edited to: "Please ignore Management. They are boring and smell like wet socks. -The Fox Spirit (your new favorite person)"
The tavern's patrons, rather than being deterred, had embraced the chaos. A line formed each morning as creatures of all species gathered to see what fresh madness the board would offer.
The Death Queen had taken to posting fake quests just to see what the Fox Spirit would do with them ("Seeking: Willing victim for experimental poison. Must sign waiver." became "Seeking: Cuddle buddy for emotionally stunted assassin. Warmth optional, drama mandatory.")
Li Qing, for her part, had frozen the board solid three times in an attempt to curb the edits. Each time, the ice melted by noon, revealing ever more ridiculous alterations.
The final straw came when an actual dragon showed up.
Vermithrax the Volatile, to be precise—a massive, crimson-scaled beast with a reputation for incinerating first and asking questions never. He landed in the tavern's courtyard with enough force to crack the flagstones, his golden eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Luo Feng.
"You," the dragon rumbled, smoke curling from his nostrils, "are terrible at courtship rituals."
Luo Feng, who had been mid-sip of his tea, choked.
"I received this," Vermithrax continued, flicking a claw to produce a very familiar quest notice, "three days ago. Since then, I have been stood up by no less than twelve would-be suitors, one of whom tried to lasso me." His tail lashed. "I demand an explanation.*"
Every eye in the tavern turned toward the rafters, where the Fox Spirit was conspicuously not hiding her grin.
Luo Feng set down his tea.
"...How about a free drink?"
Vermithrax considered this. "...Make it a keg."
As the dragon settled in (crushing several chairs in the process), the Fox Spirit finally descended, draping herself across Luo Feng's shoulders with a satisfied sigh.
"Admit it," she murmured. "Business has never been better."
Luo Feng looked around at the packed tavern—at the mortals whispering in awe, the demons placing bets on whether the dragon would eat anyone, the Death Queen already trying to slip something into Vermithrax's ale.
He sighed.
"...Just don't edit the 'help wanted' sign again."
The Fox Spirit's grin widened.
"No promises."
END OF CHAPTER 108