I declare this is the Little Overlord Street

The neon lights of the imperial capital shimmered hazily in the night. The Wanchun Pavilion stood beside the Fengyue Cottage, bustling and lively, their glow reflecting off one another. Once, this place had been alive with song and dance, its halls filled with the fluttering sleeves of courtesans.

That was, until Fengyue Cottage became the property of a certain Li Mo.

"Ah, after we finish drinking here, let’s head to Fengyue Cottage for another round—shake off the fatigue."

"Go? That place is just a foot-washing parlor now. The girls there have a grip like iron."

"Tch, how bad could it be?"

"Young Master Song went once. He’s still trembling today."

A group of well-dressed nobles shook their heads as they gossiped.

Suddenly, a cold snort came from the entrance.

"Mark my words, in a few days, that place will be shut down for good!"

Who dared speak so arrogantly?

The hall fell silent for a moment as heads turned toward the speaker—a man whose face was pale beneath a flush of anger.

It was none other than the very "Young Master Song" the guests had just been discussing.

Seeing this, the diners burst into laughter, some even chiming in with agreement.

Song Qian sat back down, his fury unabated.

"If my father weren’t so busy with the Hundred Flowers Festival these days... You’ll all come with me in a few days to watch it happen!"

"I have plans that day."

"I’ll be sick by then."

His companions leaned back in their seats, none daring to accompany him to Fengyue Cottage.

Meanwhile...

The interior of Wanchun Pavilion, from the second floor up, was connected by stairways woven like veins of rosy clouds. The rooms hung from the ceiling like orderly flower buds, each tier more luxurious than the last.

At the very top...

While his son ranted below, the father sat at the banquet table, sweating profusely.

"Ah, Uncle Zhong, since that robe’s already been made—and it was quite expensive—why don’t you take it back? It’s perfect for this cold weather."

"Let’s not. I’m not so poor that I lack winter clothes."

"The food and wine here at Wanchun Pavilion aren’t the best, but the location is excellent, right next to Fengyue Cottage. How about I buy it? You can have a share, Uncle Zhong. Then when the southern border troops visit the capital, they’ll have a place to enjoy themselves."

"Hm?"

Minister Song and Vice Minister Qian wiped their brows, but no matter how much they tried, the sweat wouldn’t stop.

Had they just boarded a pirate ship?

"Why so grim, esteemed ministers?"

Li Mo turned to the officials with a puzzled look.

"Hahaha... Just thinking of the hardships endured by our border troops fills me with shame!"

Minister Song wore an expression of deep concern for the nation.

[Congratulations, Host. You have successfully invested 50,000 taels of gold in "Song Baiyue."]

[You have unclaimed investment returns.]

Glancing at the system notification confirming the payment, Li Mo grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Classy."

His gaze swept over each minister’s face.

He didn’t care how much they took. Anyone who’d risen to their positions surely had the destiny to soar higher—no matter how much they skimmed, he wouldn’t lose out.

What mattered more were the returns from the southern border.

Once those provisions and military supplies arrived, aside from the profits, he’d also gain a considerable amount of mortal energy.

With the topic shifting to border affairs, Minister Song took the lead, and after a few drinks, the others—whether sincere or not—joined in.

"Indeed, the southern frontier is harsh. Guarding it is no easy task."

Vice Minister Qian downed a cup.

"The troops suffer, but so do we."

A high-ranking official patted his belly and belched. "The treasury’s empty, and the south is far. By the time supplies arrive, most are already depleted. Keeping that region stable is a heavy burden."

"No matter how tough it gets, we can’t let the imperial family or His Majesty suffer. The troops will just have to endure a little longer."

"Even with this batch of supplies, it’s just a drop in the bucket..."

The Southern Suppressing King listened to their toasts, rubbing his temples before rising to leave.

Supplies depleted along the way?

With spatial storage artifacts, why would military provisions need large escorts? Where had all those "lost" resources gone?

"I plan to start some businesses here in the capital with Uncle Zhong."

"Oh? What kind?"

"Starting with this street."

"..."

The Southern Suppressing King, halfway out of his seat, suddenly felt his legs weaken. He plopped back down.

The banquet table fell silent.

In the Great Yu Dynasty, officials’ salaries weren’t high. Even after years of diligent embezzlement and side incomes, most ministers had to think carefully before buying a house in the inner city near the palace.

Today, they learned a new unit of measurement.

Who bought property by the street?

Not even the capital’s richest had that kind of wealth. They couldn’t help but wonder—did Li Mo know some alchemy to turn stone into gold?

As the banquet wore on, the table remained eerily quiet.

Zhong Qin cleared his throat, glancing around to see the ministers silent but their eyes gleaming like hungry wolves, though none dared speak.

Money shouldn’t be flaunted—but Li Mo had dragged him into this.

Who could say no to wealth?

"Young Hero Li, I once told His Majesty you were a dragon among men, a true talent. Today, I see you’re even more extraordinary than I imagined."

"Young Hero? He’s my sworn brother! Brother Li, if you’re willing, let’s become family..."

"As the saying goes, 'May every year be as prosperous as today.' Our future together looks bright indeed!"

"Here, let me toast you."

"We oversee commerce. If you ever need anything, just ask—we’re all family now."

The atmosphere instantly warmed with camaraderie.

Even Sun Gui received newfound respect.

He finally understood an old adage:

Money moves gods. If it doesn’t, you simply haven’t offered enough...

Downstairs, Song Qian staggered drunkenly toward Fengyue Cottage.

A cold gust at the door sobered him slightly, bringing back unpleasant memories.

He didn’t dare enter now, so he could only fume and slump back into his carriage.

"One day..."

Before he could finish, a noisy crowd spilled out of Wanchun Pavilion.

"Hey, there’s a rock in the way! How dare it block my brother Li’s path!"

"This street’s name needs changing. It doesn’t sound right."

"From now on, this shall be called... Little Overlord Avenue!"

Watching the drunk, middle-aged man calling Li Mo "brother" and the young man at the center of attention, Song Qian froze.

"???"

A servant pointed. "Young Master... isn’t that your father?"