NEC Chapter 20: The Girl Who Loved Skeletons  

Time flew by. 

After a brief six-day journey aboard the airship with this chance-met group, Chen Mo reached his destination. 

Whitestone Outpost, perched at the edge of the southern continent. 

Nestled between two mountains, the outpost’s gray-white stone walls formed a sturdy fortress, handling tasks like vigilance, reception, screening, and serving as a relay station. Stepping through its gates marked official entry into the Crescent Moon Federation. 

From the outpost to Whitestone City was another dozen kilometers by road. 

In a world where individual strength could overturn rivers and seas, nations spared no effort in controlling population movement. Unless you planned to avoid cities forever and dodge periodic checkpoints, a legal identity was essential. 

From Luke, Chen Mo learned that the quickest way to gain a legitimate identity for free movement on the continent, without constant detentions for questioning, was to register as a mercenary. 

To register as a mercenary, he needed to visit the mercenary guild in Whitestone City. 

But to enter Whitestone City, he needed a legal identity. 

A perfect catch-22. 

Fortunately, he had Luke, the seasoned veteran. 

The old mercenary offered two paths: a risky fake permit, cheap but dangerous, or a legitimate route, fully compliant but costly. 

Chen Mo, flush with funds, chose to play by the rules. 

The Cloudmist Domain’s noble family showed their class. They let him board the airship for just two silver coins, the standard ticket price. For the two gold sheets he offered, they compensated him with twenty gold coins, even thoughtfully exchanging two into silver and copper. By pure face value, Chen Mo came out ahead. 

This was fair trade, clean and straightforward. 

If someone later claimed the gold sheets were heirlooms, the Cloudmist Domain would bear no blame. 

Luke had privately told Chen Mo that the bigger the family, the more principled their dealings. Those with crude, grasping ways could never rise to prominence in any kingdom. 

True great houses didn’t need to resort to strong-arm tactics to make wealth. 

With Luke’s guidance, Chen Mo found one of his “old pals,” a “ironclad buddy”—a bearded outpost captain with a full, bushy mane. 

The captain scrutinized Chen Mo for a long time, asking the same questions repeatedly. Finally, he opened a cabinet beside his desk, watching as Chen Mo placed three silver coins, a bottle of Blue Village turbid wine, two boxes of Ulu Bakery pastries, a handful of Greatwind Plains tobacco, and two round, mysterious trinkets. 

After verifying the items, the captain issued Chen Mo a “temporary pass” valid for three days. 

Don’t scoff at the hassle. Without these elaborate gifts, money alone wouldn’t cut it. 

Outpost captains liked coin, but only clean coin with no strings attached. 

The gifts’ style told them who sent you, whether to give face, and how much. 

Luke’s face wasn’t huge, but it was just enough. 

The pass was lengthy, translating roughly to: 

“Hereby certified: Chen Mo, summoning apprentice of Black Crow Castle, Mirror Lake Kingdom. Height five feet three inches, lean build, fair-faced with little facial hair, accompanied by one undead skeleton spearman. Entering to seek kin. Granted temporary passage from

Whitestone Outpost to Whitestone City. Valid for three days.” With the pass secured, Chen Mo needed a carriage ticket. 

The dozen-kilometer trek was too grueling to walk, and, per Luke, the stretch between the outpost and the city was a lawless chaos zone. 

Without a carriage, you’d lose your goods at best, your life at worst. 

Chen Mo specifically asked Luke, “It’s so chaotic out there. Doesn’t the Crescent Moon Federation do anything?” 

“Of course they do!” Luke lowered his voice. “The outpost’s inn is owned by the Whitestone 

City governor’s wife. The carriage line? Run by the governor’s mistress.” 

“If they cracked down, how would it stay so chaotic?” 

“And if it wasn’t chaotic, how could the inn and carriage line charge such high prices?”  Chen Mo learned another lesson. 

To keep the inn in demand, the wilds had to be a bloodbath. To jack up carriage fares, anyone daring to walk was fair game. 

The Crescent Moon Federation’s elites were business geniuses, worthy of high-fiving Blue Star’s savviest capitalists across dimensions. 

He was immensely grateful his homeland had equipped him not just with weapons for selfdefense but also with gold, the universal persuader. In some situations, those shiny yellow bars were more convincing than gunfire. 

Otherwise, he’d have to shoot his way through. 

And when the bullets ran out, he’d be dead in a ditch. 

After buying the carriage ticket, he couldn’t leave immediately. He had to wait until the next day. 

Another night at the inn. 

That day, Chen Mo had poured so much coin into the pockets of the Whitestone governor’s wife, mistress, and lovers, he felt numb. 

In his dreams, he viciously lashed out at faceless, curvaceous figures of greed several times over. 

The next morning, Chen Mo rose early, stretching in the open area outside the inn, waiting to bid farewell to Luke, his “guide.” The morning breeze was cool, and the dawn painted the graywhite outpost in warm gold. 

Then he spotted Lady Frost emerging. 

Today, the young lady wore a formal gown, adorned with swaying yellow tassels that shimmered faintly as she moved. 

Chen Mo had seen her three times, each with a completely different outfit. 

He wondered if her entourage included a carriage just for her wardrobe. 

Catching sight of Chen Mo, her eyes lit up. She lifted her skirt and trotted over, her voice brimming with unbridled excitement. “Hey, little mage! Can I see your skeleton?”  Captain Paven, trailing close behind, nodded slightly to Chen Mo and explained, “My lady has never seen an undead creature from the netherworld before and is quite curious. If it’s convenient, please keep your summon under control. She just wants to look.” 

Chen Mo always felt the Cloudmist group carried an air of superiority that rubbed him the wrong way, so he preferred to keep his distance. 

But this young lady seemed to have a youthful innocence, and her fascination with skeletons… was she a medical student in a past life? 

With a generous gesture, Chen Mo presented Little White, posing it for inspection, perfectly still. 

Lady Frost approached, stopping a short distance away, her wide eyes sparkling with delight. She muttered as she studied it, “Wow, really! So strange. How does it move? Does it have a brain? Where’s its brain?” 

“Your Highness, undead creatures… typically lack a brain in the physiological sense…” Paven subtly shifted his position, placing himself between the lady and any potential attack path from the skeleton. His left hand was half-clenched, his right thumb nudging the sword guard open a sliver, all while patiently answering her questions. 

But the more he answered, the more questions she had. 

“Does it never need to eat? Would it eat if you fed it?” 

“Does it not sleep at night? Does it ever get sleepy? Like this?” She bobbed her head, mimicking dozing off. 

“Can’t it talk? That’s such a pity. Can it understand me?” 

“Mr. Skeleton? Hey, hey?” 

“…” 

Watching the girl and Little White in the dawn’s glow, with Paven sweating bullets, Chen Mo suddenly wished he had a camera. This scene would make a perfect snapshot. 

>>> NEXT CHAPTER