Deep in the heart of the Whispering Woods, the night was dark and shrouded in mystery. Moonlight filtered through dense leaves, casting fragmented silver patches across the forest floor.
Nestled in this thick woodland was a newly established Treasure Hoarders' camp.
The flickering campfire lit up the faces of six members, their eyes glinting with menace.
Jilliana sat on the ground, tightly bound with coarse rope. Her body trembled faintly.
The firelight danced on her bruised face, but her eyes remained resolute.
Her lips were pressed into a firm line—she refused to yield.
Standing before her was Scrooge, the leader of the group. His face twisted with confusion and rage as he barked at the woman before him.
"Jilliana, you keep saying 'this is the end.' You really think you can cut ties with us just like that? Back when we were robbing and killing together, raking in the gold and living large, you were the most enthusiastic. And now suddenly, you're done?"
Jilliana raised her head, eyes fixed on Scrooge. With force, she spat at him and said, "That was then. I'm not part of the Hoarders anymore. I have a life now—a family. I won't keep doing things like that."
Scrooge let out a cold laugh, his gaze turning cruel.
"You think it's that easy? Just walk away? That's not how it works. We've got rules. Traitors pay the price."
He paused, then added darkly, "Think carefully. The only reason we haven't handed you over to the boss is because of old times. But if you keep mouthing off, don't blame us when things get ugly. Think, what would happen to your husband and daughter if we got to them first?"
Jilliana's face went pale, fear flashing in her eyes—but she quickly steeled herself, jaw clenched.
"You wouldn't dare! If anything happens to them, I'll make sure you all pay!"
Scrooge sneered. "Already sent someone. If you don't cooperate, your whole family's going underground."
Jilliana screamed, losing all composure. "No! Don't hurt them! Please—I'll give you whatever you want! Money? I've given you so much already—wasn't that enough?"
He shot her a mocking look, lips curling. "Your measly cash? You kidding me? We lost huge deals after you bailed. You think that pocket change made up for it?"
Jilliana's heart sank. Thoughts of her husband and daughter overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face.
"What do you want from me?! Just leave my family out of this—I'll do anything!"
Scrooge's eyes gleamed with cunning.
"I heard there's some treasure stashed in the cathedral. Since you're a nun now, you must know the secrets."
Jilliana's expression changed drastically. She shook her head in terror. "No! I won't! I won't betray my faith! I'll find another way—I'll earn the money!"
Scrooge struck her across the face, sending her to the ground. He growled, "You think that robe cleanses you? You'll always be one of us. Retire? Dream on."
Blood dripped from Jilliana's lip, her eyes blazing with fury and despair. "You monsters… I'll never let you win. You'll pay."
Scrooge pulled out a Raven Mark from his coat and examined it with a sneer.
"Look at this. A bloody-handed killer wearing a nun's robe. The world's a damn joke."
Hearing that, Jilliana trembled. Her past surged up like a flood.
"I… I've really changed…" she whispered, uncertain.
Just then, hoofbeats and rustling leaves echoed from afar. Scrooge's head snapped toward the sound.
"Who's there?!"
A figure stepped from the underbrush—it was Rosaria.
She held a Favonius spear, her expression icy, gaze sweeping over the thugs.
Jilliana cried out in relief, "Sister Rosaria!"
Scrooge snorted. "And here I thought it was someone dangerous. Just a nun. Take them out!"
At his command, five Treasure Hoarders drew weapons and charged. Rosaria didn't flinch, gripping her spear in readiness.
Then, through the trees, Shao Yun emerged on horseback. The firelight illuminated his stony features, giving him a commanding presence.
"Did I miss something?"
His voice was quiet, but carried an undeniable authority.
One of the thugs, clearly green, sneered at the pair. "What's up with Mondstadt lately—everyone marrying nuns now?"
Shao Yun's face darkened. A cold smile tugged at his lips.
"Third time I've heard that tonight, and it's still pissing me off."
He drew his revolver, activating his Vision. Thunder cracked in the night as he took aim—Scrooge's leg, the others' heads.
A single gunshot rang out—like a death sentence.
Scrooge's leg was blown through; he collapsed, screaming.
The five other hoarders were each shot clean through the skull, blood bursting like fireworks. They died instantly.
Rosaria rushed to Jilliana, gently untying her.
Her face was streaked with tears and bruises. She shakily stood, voice trembling with gratitude.
"Thank you, Sister Rosaria."
Rosaria caressed the bruises on her face, rage simmering beneath her calm.
"Save it. We'll talk back in Mondstadt."
Shao Yun dragged over a bound Scrooge. "Only one problem left."
Scrooge looked up, terrified. "Please! Jilliana! Let me go! I swear, I'll never bother you again—I'll return all the money I took!"
Shao Yun glanced between the women.
Jilliana closed her eyes and whispered, "Just… don't let him hurt my family. That's all I ask."
Rosaria looked at Shao Yun, then down at the pathetic figure sobbing at their feet.
"You caught him. Your call. I'm taking Jilliana home. But if it were me, I'd kill him."
Under the moonlight, Rosaria and Jilliana disappeared into the trees.
Shao Yun pulled out a knife and lightly tapped Scrooge's sweat-drenched face.
Scrooge trembled. "Please... let me go..."
Shao Yun studied him, then asked coldly, "Do you know a man named Anthony Foreman?"
Scrooge's heart skipped. Desperate, he nodded. "Yes, I know him—I know him!"
But Shao Yun shook his head slowly. "No. You don't."
Disappointment tinged his voice. Then—without warning—he drove the knife into Scrooge's gut.
Scrooge's eyes bulged, mouth agape, unable to scream.
"Sorry, pal. I don't gamble on liars."
With a cold yank, Shao Yun pulled the blade free.
Scrooge writhed in agony, eyes wide in horror.
He fell back, gasping silently. Fate had sealed his end.
Shao Yun watched him thrash, then drew his revolver and cocked the hammer.
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams."
Click—
The revolver misfired. Even the glow of his Vision couldn't spark a shot.
Eyes wide, Shao Yun inspected the weapon.
"What the hell…" he muttered, unease creeping in.
A chill wind swept through the air. Moisture clung to the night.
The campfire abruptly snuffed out. Darkness surged in.
A sense of looming danger wrapped around Shao Yun like a vice.
"Good evening."
A deep, magnetic voice spoke behind him, slicing the silence.
Shao Yun spun, revolver raised.
A man stood in the moonlight—dressed in a formal suit and top hat, a curled mustache on his upper lip, the picture of a gentleman.
He stared at Shao Yun, eyes gleaming with eerie amusement, as if watching a captivating play.
He pointed to the still-writhing Scrooge, voice silky and cryptic.
"Please. Continue your performance."