Let go of that monster girl!

Aishan is breaking through the right to mint coins.

The terrifying seigniorage tax meant that noble ladies who had the right to mint coins would often gradually reduce the precious metal content of the currency, much like peeling ham, and then at a suitable time declare the old currency invalid, in order to instantly amass enormous wealth.

Hey, you're awake. The old coins you have can only be exchanged for one new coin for two of them now. If you don't exchange them, your head might be in danger.

Oh, you're awake again. The noble lady has decided to reissue the currency, and there will be a reissue fee.

Seigniorage often accounts for more than 10% of a territory's total income.

If a noblewoman decides to exploit the situation to the point of exhaustion and abandon all her reputation, this tactic can even take away more than 40% of the pie at once, thus ensuring that the noose around the merchant's neck remains in the noblewoman's hands.

Candy, a small item that lies somewhere between a physical commodity and currency, cleverly found its way into this loophole.

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, that man was building his own completely different order of the game.

It's just a tiny sprout now, but it will definitely be much more than just a market in the future.

She couldn't figure out what he was thinking, but all she needed to know was that he was going to make a move.

She liked this ambition very much.

She wouldn't miss this opportunity.

Fox Seventeen believed she had products that the man was interested in.

She patted her pretty face in the bronze mirror, once on the left and once on the right, to make sure her makeup was perfect. Then she entrusted the stall to the yellow-haired fox-woman assistant, took a booklet, and, wagging her big tail, headed towards the newest piece of land rented by the caravan.

Not far away, Morren was standing on a newly leveled open space, holding a blueprint in his hand. Several foreman rats surrounded him, craning their necks to look at the blueprint, their round ears huddled together, and occasionally squeaking with questions.

Several worker mice holding shovels also put down their work and gathered around to watch. They propped themselves up with their shovels, not understanding what was going on, but still enjoying the spectacle.

Fox Seventeen's face was plastered with a fawning smile, and he swayed his big tail as he approached.

"Oh my, isn't this our old customer, Baron Morren?"

"We happen to have something really good here, just waiting for you!"

Several mouse girls nearby saw her and immediately recognized her.

"Yes, it's that fox! The fox squeaks!"

"She's coming, squeal!"

In an instant, it tucked its ears to the ground, tucked its tail between its legs, and squeaked as it shrank behind Morren.

Fox Seventeen casually conjured a few pretty little things from her sleeve: sparkly hair clips, colorful braided ropes, and a few pieces of candy. She stuffed them into the hands of the mouse girls huddled in the back, then gently patted their little heads.

The rat girls stood frozen in place, too afraid to move.

Then she flicked her big tail and rubbed against Morren.

Molen easily dodged it by sidestepping.

The cunning fox merchant remained calm and unperturbed, slapping a beautifully bound booklet against Moren's chest and poking the cover with his slender, white fingertip.

“We knew those stinking foxes wouldn’t stand a chance against the Baron. Look, they were utterly defeated and ran away.”

She smiled, offered a couple more compliments, and then changed her tone.

"Your Excellency is busy with many affairs, and this place is far from the hill. Your Excellency must be short of a market manager, and what a coincidence! We happen to know an experienced manager who is even willing to forgo any benefits. Please take a look, Your Excellency, we have prepared a list for you."

Well, what a shameless fox.

Molen had known her for a long time and was already immune to her flattery.

He raised his eyebrows and opened the booklet in his hand.

At first, I just flipped through it casually, but after taking a second look...

Hmm, it seems there's actually something there...

This is actually an extremely detailed market charter and plan, with very neat and legible handwriting, illustrations, and even a trilingual version in Common Language, Human Language, and Mouse Girl Language.

Upon closer inspection, it became even more astonishing. The person who wrote this booklet had clearly studied Moren's tastes very carefully. She had obviously anticipated that the ruthless methods used by nobles in their markets would result in Moren having her head twisted off immediately.

This guy is shameless, not incompetent.

Every article in it has been carefully considered, and even includes terms like written rule of law and risk reserves, which are not words that would appear in the Middle Ages, in an effort to build an unprecedented new order.

It seems that Morren achieved a commendable second place in the competition to learn about Baron Morren.

This fox is useful, but not trustworthy.

Molen tucked the booklet into his pocket and nodded with a smile.

"Yes, you're right. It's quite a coincidence that I also know that experienced manager you mentioned."

"Then it's settled, Your Excellency?"

"Then it's settled."

"Great."

Fox Seventeen had a big smile on his face.

After several meal times.

Fox Seventeen pulled up his fox-like face.

"Boss, don't be angry. Your face is greener than the Baron's lackey..."

The yellow-haired fox-woman waiter ate his candy while glancing at the proprietress, whose pretty face was now so green it looked like it could be squeezed for water.

The man turned to look ahead, where tents and shacks had cleared a small plaza where a number of merchants and rat girls were gathered.

On the high platform, Jimmy wore the armband of the market manager, while the catgirl stood on a platform made of stacked wooden crates, holding a booklet in her hand and loudly reading the regulations inside.

"Meow!"

"First one, meow! All caravans must pay a deposit of ten silver coins to register here, meow!"

"Second rule, meow! The price tag for goods must include both copper coins and candy, meow!"

"Rule number three! Forced buying and selling is prohibited! Violators will have their entire deposit forfeited and be expelled from the market!"

"Article Four..."

The waiter turned back to look at his boss.

Fox Seventeen bit her lip, her face was extremely ugly, her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, and her big tail was stiffly sticking up behind her without moving.

There are cows...

That was her booklet, the booklet she wrote.

My hands were swollen from being licked by the dog girl, but I was still writing in the booklet.

She spent three whole months writing this booklet, during which she almost lost all her hair.

Now it's being read aloud while being held up by a cat.

Fox Seventeen walked toward Jimmy without saying a word, his steps firm, his big tail beginning to sway slowly from side to side.

The yellow-haired fox girl swallowed the candy in her mouth and trotted after her, worried that she would eat the cat.

Can this be tolerated?

Just bear with it!

Fox Seventeen stopped in front of the platform, raised its head, its face once again filled with a smile, and its tail resumed its ingratiating wagging frequency.

"Oh my, isn't this our dearest boss, Jimmy?"

"You must be short of a Party Secretary?"

Chapter 131 (4k) Dwarf Mountain Market

a few days later.

Before the opening ceremony of Aishan North Market.

Inside the Baron's tent.

A female mouse was holding a coat, tugging at the sleeve of her companion, her round ears twitching nervously.

"Do those older women outside really accept candy as payment?"

"If the Baron says it can, then it will squeak."

His companion patted his chest, looking very confident.

Inside the tent, six or seven mouse girls were frantically fussing over Morren.

She tiptoed to fasten the brass buttons on Moran's dark coat, squatted down to help smooth out the wrinkles at the hem of his trousers, and used a small brush to brush his shoulders.

Nearby, several other mouse girls were putting a light green dress on Lime, struggling with the complicated ties. The skirt was a similar color to Lime's own, and from a distance, it almost blended into one.

Lyme stood quietly, letting the mice manipulate her like a soft, fluffy mannequin.

As Moran straightened his sleeves, which had been torn askew by the rats, he casually remarked:

"Don't worry, merchants will buy anything with a stable price. Sugar is very expensive outside, so they'd love to buy as much as possible."

A mouse that was brushing Morren's shoulder turned its little head and asked:

"Then why don't we just sell the sugar and make money to spend?"

"Or just buy the stuff and give it to the mice!"

Another mouse, who was squatting on the ground, raised its head to agree, but after thinking for a moment, it lowered its head again and continued to roll up its trouser legs.

"Squeak, let's not. Last time the Baron bought a lot of colorful threads from the caravan, and now all that's left is green."

Morren's gaze fell on Lyme's new green dress embroidered with green flowers.

Okay, so that's how that dress came about.

Molen wasn't really planning to explain the various economic principles to the rats in detail, after all, he wasn't exactly an expert in the field.

But there is a basic common sense: only things that are in motion constitute an economy.

Molen could potentially gain complete control of Dwarf Mountain, or even Dwarf Mountain Territory, transforming it into a sophisticated, gear-like factory.

But he couldn't do the same in the future northern market of Dwarf Mountain, because he couldn't control the caravan as completely as he controlled the Rat Girl.

Unlike factories, markets establish themselves and evolve.

Demand and supply—the invisible hand is far more powerful and perceptive than the visible one.

If Aishan only maintains an internal self-sufficient rationing system, it will forever remain a closed mine.

Only by allowing resources to circulate can this territory truly flourish.

And the sugar cube was Moran's most handy tool.

As the northern gateway to the low mountains, the first step is to use sugar cubes to bring all caravans into the new order of the low mountains.

Molen fastened the last button and waved to all the rats in the tent.

"All mice are on holiday today, and we can even get an advance on the candy for the next month! Spend it as you like!"

The tent erupted in cheers instantly.

"Squeak! One month!"

"A month's worth of candy! All of it!"

"Spend as you please! The Baron says spend as you please!"

The rats dropped their tools and rushed out, while the rats next to Lyme who were tying their skirts also squealed and cheered as they squeezed out of the tent.

Only the slime remained standing there, her skirt only half-tied and hanging on her body.

She silently looked down at herself, then slowly tied the sash of her skirt with her little finger.

The rats followed Morren, squeaking and squeaking as they poured out of the tent.

The news of the sugar warehouses being opened spread like wildfire, attracting more and more people.

Soon a large group of jubilant rats gathered, converging from all directions into a torrent of rats, rushing towards the exchange point at the edge of the camp.

The swarm of giggling rats blocked the redemption point, pushing and shoving, ears pressed together, tails tripping over each other, their squeaking echoing everywhere.

On a high platform in the center of the camp, the cardinal, dressed in a blood-red holy robe, held up a large parchment covered with wax seals and loudly read out the market permit that had just been delivered.

"Permanent market shall be established in the southern plains of the Baron of Dwarf Hill."