Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [83]

At that moment, Pantalone—the Fatui Harbinger known as the Regrator—sat within the Northland Bank, his black cloak draped elegantly over his shoulders as he toyed with a jade bracelet in his hands.

A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, twin gem-studded chains dangling from either side. His slightly long hair was tied into a loose side ponytail, falling lazily over one shoulder. Refined and composed, he looked every bit the scholar—far from the ruthless and cunning executive feared throughout the business world.

His usually half-closed eyes were now faintly open, studying the bracelet in his hands.

It was a trophy—taken from that clash with Ningguang’s subordinate.

“So what if she’s learned the truth about me? That knowledge holds little real value.”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the bracelet carelessly onto the table, then strode toward the window.

Cold moonlight washed over his face as he gazed down upon Liyue Harbor, unreadable emotions flickering behind his narrowed eyes.

“Contracts… they were never meant to have only one form.”

His voice was low, the words carried away on the wind.

—

In a hidden cave deep within Mt. Tianheng…

Several shirtless men were hauling crates, muscles straining with effort.

The cavern was vast and dry, its entrance concealed by thick brush and tangled vines—making it the perfect place to stash contraband.

High-value goods smuggled from Snezhnaya were first stored here, then discreetly mixed in with low-tariff shipments. With cooperation from spies planted in the Millelith, they’d bypass thorough inspections and sneak the goods into Liyue Harbor.

This covert trade route—slashing import costs through tax evasion—was operated entirely under the control of the Regrator himself.

At this very moment, the Fatui were preparing a shipment for export—treasures smuggled out of Liyue, including a particularly exquisite item handpicked by Pantalone as a tribute for the Tsaritsa.

Naturally, such a place was heavily guarded.

An entire squad of elite Fatui soldiers patrolled the cavern, their vigilance evident in every step.

A young man sat lazily atop a wagon, yawning as though half-asleep. But behind that sleepy facade, his eyes were constantly scanning the layout of the guards.

It was clear the Regrator placed great importance on this location—an entire detachment of Fatui had been stationed here, and they weren’t your average grunts. Their equipment was top-tier, their coordination tight, and their elemental alignments complementary—no easy foe to overcome.

Nor were the laborers simple porters. In Snezhnaya, all citizens were trained in combat. These men could easily pick up weapons and hold their own in battle.

Torches burned along the cavern walls, smoke from dry wood lingering in the air.

One of the laborers let out a yawn, his arms going weak as the crate in his arms tumbled to the ground with a resounding thud.

Every head in the cavern turned.

“What happened?”

“Sorry, sorry—slipped out of my grip for a second,” the man stammered. But before he could say more, several faint whooshing sounds cut through the air—and in the blink of an eye, every torch was extinguished.

Darkness swallowed the cave.

“What’s going on?!”

“We’re under attack!”

The soldiers instantly sensed something was wrong and reached for their weapons.

But the drowsiness only grew stronger, their eyelids heavy, limbs going numb.

“The smoke is poisoned—hold your breath!”

Realizing the severity of the situation, the Fatui quickly tried to regroup, signaling a Geo Skirmisher to summon a protective shield.

But the young man on the wagon had already vanished.

His disguise had been shed, revealing none other than Yelan, Ningguang’s trusted intelligence operative.

And she wasn’t just an expert at gathering intel—her combat skills were just as formidable.

Invisible threads wrapped around her fingers as she darted through the pitch-black cavern, weaving swiftly between the enemy ranks. With each motion, her threads coiled around one foe after another.

Once every target had been marked, she formed a hand seal—then pulled.

A chorus of agonized screams rang out in the darkness as the wires tightened.

But that alone wouldn’t be enough to subdue an entire squad of Fatui.

The Geo Skirmisher erected a shield, protecting his allies. Meanwhile, a Pyro Skirmisher raised his musket and fired a blast, igniting the stacks of dry hay in the cave—flames roaring to life and casting light once more.

With visibility restored, they realized… the intruder was only one person.

The Fatui soldiers lunged in unison.

Though weakened by the poison—drowsy and unsteady from the gas—their rigorous training let them fight through it, albeit at reduced strength.

A Hydro Gunner Legionnaire leapt forward, landing in front of Yelan and aiming a bubbling musket at her.

Behind him, a Cryo Gunner Legionnaire followed close, his weapon emitting a freezing mist.

If both attacks landed simultaneously, the resulting freeze would immobilize her, leaving her completely vulnerable.

But Yelan was faster.

She twisted into a roll, dodging the Hydro shot, then delivered a sharp kick to the musket itself.

The Hydro Gunner, already weakened, stumbled—his weapon pivoting toward his own teammate.

Water and ice met in midair, and the shock of the elements chilled them both to the bone, their limbs stiffening.

An Anemo Boxer Vanguard charged in, forming a wind vortex meant to drag Yelan into striking range.

But with a crouch and a spring, she launched herself into the air. Her water-thread lasso snared a nearby Fatui and flung him into the Anemo Vanguard mid-attack.

The vortex erupted, infused now with water and ice, disrupting everything in its radius and slowing the soldiers’ movements further.

It all happened in an instant—too fast to react.

Yelan moved like liquid shadow. She planted a foot on the Pyro Skirmisher’s helmet, springboarded upward, and from her wrist fired two steel wires that latched onto the cave walls. The wires retracted, flinging her to the cavern ceiling.

She landed gracefully atop a rocky outcrop, not a speck of dust on her clothes.

For an archer like Yelan, gaining the high ground meant the fight was all but over.

A die rolled from her fingertips—and the heavens wept.

Rain poured down—fierce and sudden, summoned by her Vision alone.

The Pyro muskets fizzled and died in the deluge. The Cryo mist that hadn’t yet dissipated froze its victims solid.

The hayfires were doused, and darkness returned to the cave—broken only by the crackle of a single thunder-charged hammer, purple lightning dancing at its tip.

Yelan’s lips curved into a slight smile as she drew back her bowstring.

The battle had begun without warning—and ended just as swiftly.

By the time her allies arrived to secure the scene, every Fatui soldier lay unconscious on the floor.

Yelan cracked open a wooden crate and pulled out an elaborately made cloak, its fabric fine and its craftsmanship impeccable.

“This cloak will do as compensation for my missing Umbracuff Bracelet. The design’s a bit lacking… but the material’s not bad.”

—

This is a fan translation of 胡桃拿我冲业绩 by 余溯. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!