No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 67

◎Earning Money, Apologies, and a New Guest◎

Yan Feicang never expected to lose so quickly.

He had set out with unwavering confidence, only to return in utter defeat, his pride as the top swordsman of the martial world thoroughly shattered. Fortunately, the one who defeated him did not humiliate him, sparing him some dignity.

The great ship set sail from the intersection of two waterways, heading toward the Eight Directions Inn by the riverside of Jiangzhou.

The inn stood by the river, its towering rear courtyard walls visible from the water, while the three-story building pierced through the walls, reaching for the sky. The setting sun cast its glow on the upturned eaves, making the glazed tiles shimmer brilliantly.

Yan Feicang wasn’t bound, but his acupoints had been sealed, leaving him stiff and motionless on the deck. Though his appearance remained unchanged, and no one would mock him outwardly, the shame gnawed at him.

The one who defeated him was a seventh-level Martial King, also wielding a blade. Her techniques weren’t necessarily refined, but every strike was precise, without a single wasted movement.

“So this is the Eight Directions Inn?” The woman at the bow of the ship suddenly turned around.

She wore a fitted black martial outfit, her hair tied high at the back. Her features were more striking than those of most women—sharp, cold eyes, a straight nose, and striking beauty combined with an air of sharpness, like an exquisitely crafted yet domineering blade.

Yan Feicang wasn’t one to appreciate beauty, but he knew the allure of a fine blade.

Looking at her was like beholding a gleaming sword—admiration stirred in his heart, yet an inexplicable wariness kept him from daring to slight her.

Her question was directed at Hong He, who stood beside Yan Feicang.

Hong He had already slumped in despair, leaning against the cabin entrance, nodding weakly.

He had thought that with the top swordsman of the martial world on his side, the Giant Whale Gang would surely be defeated. Who could have guessed they’d enlisted a seventh-level Martial King as their backer?

And worse—she had struck without hesitation!

“Senior Yan Qi is asking you a question!” Sun Jing smacked Hong He’s shoulder. “What’s the point of just nodding? Can’t you speak?”

Hong He: “…This is the Eight Directions Inn.”

Martial King Yan Qi turned back, tilting her head to gaze with interest at the riverside inn.

Suddenly, a figure on the third floor pushed open a door and stepped out to the railing.

Their eyes met.

One high, one low—one on the railing, one on the ship’s bow—separated by dozens of yards, silently sizing each other up.

As the ship reached the inn’s rear, the woman at the bow stood tall and composed, observing Lu Jianwei from afar. After a moment, she clasped her hands in salute and declared in a clear voice:

“I am Yan Qi. I’ve long admired Innkeeper Lu’s reputation. Seeing you today, you truly live up to your fame.”

Lu Jianwei remained composed, even lazily leaning on the railing, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

“I’m merely an innkeeper. Martial King Yan flatters me.”

Yan Qi—literally “swallow breath.” Did the name imply “making others swallow their last breath”?

“Innkeeper Lu possesses celestial grace and jade-like beauty. Why belittle yourself?”

“Martial King Yan is peerlessly radiant, a model for our generation.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before both burst into laughter, their mirth rippling across the water.

Everyone on the ship: ???

Weren’t they here to pick a fight? Why were they complimenting each other?

The inn’s residents were equally baffled.

What was going on? Had Protector Yan lost?

“I’ve long heard of the Eight Directions Inn’s renown and have been eager to witness it for myself. Innkeeper Lu, won’t you invite me in?”

“A Martial King’s presence brings glory to my humble establishment. Please.”

Yan Qi grabbed Yan Feicang, leaped across the river, and landed on the courtyard wall before tossing him unceremoniously to the ground.

“Innkeeper Lu, I’m returning your employee.”

Lu Jianwei glanced down, unleashing the power of a seventh-level attack artifact toward Yan Qi. The artifact’s strength was at its peak—unmatched within its tier.

She didn’t attack Yan Qi directly but merely let the seventh-level energy press against her.

Yan Qi didn’t flinch, though the strands of hair by her temples fluttered faintly under the force.

Suddenly, she laughed, dispelling the tension.

“Innkeeper Lu, I’m not here to provoke you. I’m here to discuss business.”

Lu Jianwei withdrew the artifact’s power.

“Please.”

She turned and descended the stairs.

Yan Qi floated down from the wall, circled around the main building, and arrived at the front courtyard.

A wooden sign stood by the corridor, bearing the words “No Fighting Allowed Within the Inn”—exactly as the rumors claimed.

Smiling, she stepped into the hall.

Lu Jianwei had already taken her seat. Yun Hui served tea and laid out fruits and snacks for the guest.

“Martial King Yan, please sit.”

“No need for such formality, Innkeeper Lu. Just call me Yan Qi.” Yan Qi flicked her sleeve and took the seat to the left.

Uncle Zhang and the others helped Yan Feicang inside.

“Innkeeper, we can’t undo Yan-ge’s sealed acupoints.”

A Martial King’s internal energy was too powerful—they couldn’t break through it.

Lu Jianwei waved a hand, and the acupoints were immediately released.

Her cultivation level wasn’t as high as Yan Qi’s, but her Nameless Technique could effortlessly dissolve the locking energy.

To outsiders, it appeared as though she had effortlessly undone a seventh-level Martial King’s technique.

Yan Qi’s eyes darkened with intrigue.

“Innkeeper Lu is so young, yet your skill is extraordinary. I’m impressed.”

“Likewise.” Lu Jianwei brushed off the compliment and turned to Yan Feicang. “What happened?”

Yan Feicang lowered his head. “I lost to her in seven moves.”

“Swordsman Yan’s blade work is exceptional. Had we been of the same level, I might not have won.”

“A loss is a loss.”

Yan Feicang was never one to make excuses—defeat only fueled his fighting spirit.

Yan Qi praised sincerely, “The top swordsman of the martial world lives up to his name.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Sun Jing dragged Hong He through the inn’s entrance, politely cupping his hands.

“I am Sun Jing, leader of the Giant Whale Gang. Greetings, Innkeeper Lu, and to all esteemed brothers present.”

He was tall and rugged, his features rough but not unpleasing, his bearing lacking any trace of deceit—nothing like the greedy, scheming figure Hong He and his father had described.

Lu ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‍Jianwei tapped the table lightly with her fingers.

“Martial King Yan, what is the meaning of this?”

“Innkeeper Lu, let’s speak plainly.” Yan Qi’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You sent Yan Feicang to aid Leader Hong—was it to suppress the Giant Whale Gang’s influence, or to annex them?”

Lu Jianwei suddenly realized the situation was more complicated than she’d thought.

She glanced at Hong He, who shrank back, not daring to meet her gaze.

From start to finish, he hadn’t spoken a single truthful word.

Fortunately, she had been cautious from the beginning, never fully trusting him. Sending Yan Feicang wasn’t truly about suppressing the Giant Whale Gang but investigating the truth—she hadn’t intended to harm anyone.

Yet she had unexpectedly encountered Yan Qi.

Yan Qi’s words and demeanor revealed an uncommon refinement, suggesting an extraordinary background.

She had only sealed Yan Feicang’s acupoints rather than slaughtering the Azure Dragon Gang—proof she wasn’t a wanton killer.

Coming to the Eight Directions Inn, she likely genuinely sought peace.

“Martial King Yan, I have no interest in meddling in canal trade affairs,” Lu Jianwei stated plainly. “However, the Azure Dragon Gang is Jiangzhou’s leading faction. Since I run a business here, I must give them some face.”

Yan Qi’s smile deepened. “Then it was merely a misunderstanding. Innkeeper Lu, I apologize.”

“No harm done.” Lu Jianwei raised a brow. “What are your plans, Martial King Yan?”

Yan Qi said, “The Azure Dragon Gang has long dominated Jiangzhou, extorting exorbitant tolls from passing ships and amassing untold wealth. I find this unacceptable. Innkeeper Lu, do you condone such actions?”

“Hong He previously told me the Giant Whale Gang was the one profiteering on the waterways. Both sides have their own claims, and without further evidence, I cannot judge.”

"Did he really say that? Well, since that's the case, I have an idea. Manager Lu, why not hear me out?"

Lu Jianwei smiled. "I'm all ears."

"The shipping traffic between Jiangzhou and Southern Prefecture is frequent. Exorbitant ferry fees only hinder connectivity between the two regions. Ordinary boatmen are forced to raise their fares, merchants have to increase prices, and common folk are left struggling to make ends meet. In the end, the only ones profiting are the gang members."

"Martial King Yan is truly concerned for the people. I admire that."

"Flattery is unnecessary. I merely took a boat ride once and encountered both ruthless river bandits and pitiable boatmen. It left me indignant."

When she mentioned "river bandits," her gaze fell on Hong He.

Hong He's head had already sunk to his chest.

Under the watchful eyes of a seventh-level Martial King, how could he dare cry injustice?

Lu Jianwei nodded. "So?"

"So, I propose merging the two gangs and setting new rules," Yan Qi revealed her ultimate goal. "All previous tributes will be abolished. Instead, sixty percent of the revenue from the two regions' waterway operations will be handed over to me."

Lu Jianwei: "…?"

The others: "…"

After all that talk, it still came down to money.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Sixty percent? Wasn’t that a bit too much?

Lu Jianwei smiled faintly. "Aren’t you afraid the sects that once received tributes from the Giant Whale Gang will come after you?"

"That’s precisely why I’m here—to propose an alliance with you," Yan Qi said. "For the next five years, I can give you ten percent of the revenue."

Ten percent?

Lu Jianwei studied her expression. There was no greed in her eyes, only an undercurrent of ambition.

Merging the gangs, abolishing tributes, and taking sixty percent of the profits—what was Yan Qi really after?

A thought flashed through her mind, and she suddenly grasped the thread.

If her suspicion was correct, Yan Qi’s actions made perfect sense.

"Manager Lu, ten percent of the two regions’ waterway revenue is no less than the thirty percent the Giant Whale Gang used to offer in tributes," Yan Qi pressed. "What’s holding you back?"

Lu Jianwei replied leisurely, "If you give me ten percent, can you actually make that decision?"

"Of course."

"How can I trust you? What if you vanish overnight? Where would I go to collect my dues?"

"My word is my bond."

"We’ve only just met. A verbal agreement isn’t binding."

Yan Qi sighed. "Then what do you propose?"

"Calculate ten percent of the two gangs’ five-year revenue and pay it in full upfront. After that, I won’t interfere further," Lu Jianwei stated bluntly.

Rather than waiting year after year for payments, she’d rather take a lump sum. If she managed to return to her world within three years, she’d miss out on the last two years’ share.

What a waste.

Yan Qi: "…"

Sun Jing couldn’t help interjecting, "Manager Lu, demanding five years’ worth of revenue at once—isn’t that putting us in an impossible position?"

"After years of operation, the two gangs can’t even scrape together ten percent of five years’ earnings?" Lu Jianwei raised a brow. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Sun Jing: "…"

It wasn’t that they couldn’t, but doing so would leave the gangs financially strained.

"Fine. We’ll do as Manager Lu says," Yan Qi agreed decisively. "Give us five days. I’ll return with the payment then."

"Don’t forget the account books," Lu Jianwei reminded. "I dislike being deceived."

Yan Qi: "…"

She cupped her hands in farewell and left with Sun Jing and Hong He in tow.

Once back on the boat, Hong He—still a "prisoner"—was shoved aside, while Sun Jing stood respectfully behind Yan Qi.

"My lord, why did you agree to give her ten percent?"

Yan Qi stood with her blade in hand, gazing at the vast river.

"Everyone knows the Eight Directions Inn has a ninth-level Martial King backing it. If I were too forceful, it would raise suspicions. Ten percent is nothing. Over the years, ninety percent of the profits have lined the pockets of parasites. Compared to them, I’d rather hand it over to Manager Lu."

"My lord is truly wise and far-sighted."

"Enough flattery," Yan Qi frowned. "When I sent you into the Giant Whale Gang, was this the kind of smooth talk you picked up?"

"This subordinate deserves punishment."

Hong He: Had he just overheard something he shouldn’t have? Had the Giant Whale Gang been scheming for years just to stage this?

Back at the Eight Directions Inn, Lu Jianwei asked Uncle Zhang, "Do you have any idea how much the Giant Whale Gang earns in a year? A rough estimate will do."

"Manager, truth be told, I’ve actually done the math," Uncle Zhang chuckled. "From what I’ve observed, the Giant Whale Gang collects around five million taels annually from river transport."

"That doesn’t sound like much."

"Manager, five hundred taels is already a fortune to common folk. Five million is a staggering sum."

Lu Jianwei paused to reflect.

Lately, she’d been making so much money that she’d nearly forgotten the days when she pinched every penny.

"You’re right. It is substantial."

"But five million isn’t pure profit. After deducting labor, boats, weapons, food, lodging, and other expenses—plus the tributes paid to higher-ups—what’s left is mere scraps."

Lu Jianwei understood.

So Hong He hadn’t been lying when he said his wealth had been accumulated over years of toil.

All that effort, only to enrich others who couldn’t care less about his survival.

In a way, he was just another overworked "laborer."

If the Giant Whale Gang’s revenue was similar, combining both gangs would total ten million taels a year. Ten percent of five years’ earnings would be five million taels.

With seven million taels already in her possession, Lu Jianwei felt no particular excitement.

She then asked an unrelated question.

"Do you know how much tax the government levies on waterway transport?"

Uncle Zhang thought for a moment. "Agricultural taxes usually don’t exceed fifty percent. Waterway taxes must be higher—sixty, seventy, maybe even eighty percent."

"Has the government ever taxed the Giant Whale Gang?"

"Manager, you jest."

So, no.

Yan Qi’s move to merge the two gangs and claim sixty percent of the revenue now made perfect sense.

Her willingness to part with ten percent was likely just a facade—a way to appear greedy yet yielding to "authority," all to divert suspicion.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

If the factions that once received tributes from the Giant Whale Gang caught wind of this, they might retaliate fiercely.

By dragging her into this, was Yan Qi planning to use the ninth-level Martial King’s influence as a shield?

Meanwhile, Hong He stewed in confusion aboard the boat.

Too afraid to question Yan Qi directly, he waited until she retired to her cabin before whispering to Sun Jing, "You’re really planning to swallow up the Giant Whale Gang?"

Sun Jing scoffed.

"What else? Did you think this was a game?"

"If the higher-ups find out, they’ll punish us," Hong He fretted. "Martial King Yan is formidable, but those above us aren’t to be trifled with."

Sun Jing sneered. "You know nothing."

Powerful factions were far more informed than Hong He realized. The very next day after the forced merger, envoys arrived to demand answers.

Yan Qi didn’t show herself.

Instead, Sun Jing grinned and said, "Why don’t you ask Manager Lu of the Eight Directions Inn?"

The envoy hesitated, then clasped his hands and left without another word.

Hong He watched in disbelief.

The same people he’d once groveled before were now cowering in fear.

Live long enough, and you’ll see everything.

If he’d known it would come to this, he should’ve pledged loyalty to the Eight Directions Inn from the start.

Living like an ant for too long had made him forget how to resist.

Five days later, Yan Qi returned as promised with the payment and account books.

Uncle Zhang took charge of auditing the books, while Xue Guanhe and Yue Shu eagerly counted the silver.

As Uncle Zhang had anticipated, the combined annual revenue of the two gangs barely exceeded ten million taels.

Lu Jianwei pocketed five million taels for herself.

"Manager Lu, perhaps we’ll meet again someday."

Yan Qi took his leave without ceremony.

Lu Jianwei counted the zeros in her account—she now had twelve million taels, one-tenth of the amount needed for her return journey.

It might sound like rapid progress, but it was largely built on the foundation of "playing the fool to lure the tiger." With others eagerly delivering themselves to her doorstep, the accumulation naturally sped along.

Now that the Eight Directions Inn had "shaken the martial world," ordinary warriors dared not come seeking trouble.

Nine million taels remained—she’d earn them slowly.

Having profited effortlessly, she granted herself a day off, lounging on a rocking chair in the front courtyard to bask in the sun.

In the backyard, Xue Guanhe chatted with A'Nai.

"Brother Yan Feicang has been practicing his blade techniques even more diligently these days. He must be feeling down."

"Don’t worry. He’s the type who grows stronger through adversity."

"That’s good." Xue Guanhe added, "I wonder which sect that Martial King Yan Qi belongs to."

A'Nai scoffed, "Why ask so much? Go wash your vegetables."

The dull rumble of wheels scraping against the ground broke the silence.

"Manager Lu, my apologies for the intrusion."

Lu Jianwei, eyes closed in relaxation, asked, "What intrusion?"

"Tax collection."

She raised an eyebrow. The moment she had asked Uncle Zhang about the canal transport taxes, it was clear she’d aroused suspicion—this one was sharp.

Opening her eyes, she smiled. "No loss."

The imperial court had likely long intended to reform the canal trade, using the Giant Whale Gang to curb the expansion of the Azure Dragon Gang before seizing the right moment to dismantle their influence and reclaim control.

But with the Azure Dragon Gang backed by martial factions, the court had found no opening—until the appearance of a ninth-rank Martial King at the Eight Directions Inn gave them hope.

Yan Qi’s actions confirmed as much.

Five million taels for the privilege of borrowing her prestige—it was a fair trade.

However—

"In business, I prefer transparency between both parties. Young Master Wen, do take note."

Wen Zhuzhi stiffened slightly, his fingers tightening where they rested on his lap.

"My apologies. I was unaware of this beforehand."

"Unaware?"

"Though I am the proprietor, I rarely involve myself in day-to-day affairs. I’m only privy to broad strategies—specific operations are left to the stewards below."

Lu Jianwei understood.

Commander Pei couldn’t handle everything personally. He knew the court wanted to reclaim the canal trade, but the specifics of how were delegated to his deputies.

That day, when A'Nai heard of the Giant Whale Gang’s move and echoed Hong He’s words, it was out of concern for the canal trade—an attempt to secure allies for the Mystic Mirror Bureau.

For the illustrious Mystic Mirror Bureau to rely on external aid seemed rather pitiful.

But it made sense—established just sixteen years prior, it couldn’t yet rival the deep-rooted martial factions.

Yan Qi’s identity had gone unrecognized, likely due to deliberate disguise.

"Manager Lu, rest assured," Wen Zhuzhi vowed, "such incidents will not recur."

She smiled. "I’ll take your word for it."

Having once started from nothing herself, she recognized the necessity of caution and indirect methods—she could see the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s struggles.

If she were in Commander Pei’s place, locked in a decade-long battle of wits with martial factions, and a mysterious, unsettling inn suddenly appeared, she too would be wary, eager to uncover its secrets.

Especially with the descendant of White Crane Manor residing there.

The probing in Fengzhou was now water under the bridge. Given Wen Zhuzhi’s repeated generosity and voluntary confession, she let it slide.

A day later, the martial alliance’s apology delegation finally arrived in Jiangzhou.

Leading them was a familiar face—Chu Yutai of the Literary Brilliance Hall, followed by a disciple in alliance robes, sword in hand, exuding the air of a young hero.

Yet he fidgeted, visibly reluctant to step inside.

The onlookers stifled laughter.

Yu Jiansheng, the so-called "Young Hero Yu," had actually been sent to apologize? The martial alliance truly had a sense of humor—were they not afraid their fragile disciple would develop a heart demon?

Whoever devised this scheme must have a wicked sense of humor.

Chu Yutai, as refined as ever, cut an approachable figure.

He clasped his hands.

"Manager Lu, the Zhou family case was an oversight on our part, allowing such atrocities to occur and nearly tarnishing your reputation. I come on the alliance leader’s behalf to offer our sincerest apologies."

"This isn’t merely about reputation. Had I lacked the means to defend myself, I’d have faced public condemnation and died unjustly." Lu Jianwei’s tone was icy. "I’ll accept your compensation, but the alliance’s hypocrisy is not forgotten."

Chu Yutai: "..."

He turned to Yu Jiansheng, eyes sharp.

Grudgingly, Yu Jiansheng obeyed alliance orders, gritting his teeth before dropping to his knees, head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest.

"Manager Lu, my earlier actions were reckless. I beg your forgiveness."

"What is your relation to Yang Jidu?"

"Eh?" Yu Jiansheng blinked, confused. "He’s the deputy hall master. We follow his orders."

"Did he instruct you to frame me?"

"He..." Yu Jiansheng hesitated before shamefully admitting, "He said you were suspicious and told me to question you."

"Oh, so you just decided I was the killer?"

"...Yes."

Lu Jianwei glanced at Chu Yutai with amused interest, her silence speaking volumes.

This was the martial alliance’s prized disciple?

Arrogant, impulsive, and lacking discernment.

Chu Yutai’s face burned. Seizing the chance, he threw the Celestial Vanguard Hall under the cart.

"Different halls cultivate disciples differently. The Celestial Vanguard Hall focuses on combat—their disciples are hot-headed, prone to rashness and poor judgment. Hence, this blunder."

Yu Jiansheng’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He barely restrained himself from leaping up for a fight.

Lu Jianwei chuckled.

"How old are you, 'Young Hero' Yu?"

Through clenched teeth: "Twenty-nine."

This was a "young hero"?

These martial titles truly baffled her.

"Three years my senior," she remarked, her tone light but laced with scorn. "Quite youthful indeed."

Martial artists aged gracefully—Yu Jiansheng, at twenty-nine, looked barely twenty, so the title wasn’t entirely incongruous.

But "youthful impulsiveness" was a stretch.

Someone burst out laughing.

Not the staff—it was Lan Ling from the third floor.

She drifted down, red gauze dress fluttering, her striking beauty a feast for the eyes.

But no one was in the mood to appreciate it.

"Manager Lu, five million taels yesterday, more delivered to your door today," she cooed. "Your wealth grows at a pace to make anyone jealous."

"Not as lucrative as the Thousand Miles Pavilion’s trade in secrets."

"You’re too modest." Lan Ling turned to Yu Jiansheng. "Poor young hero. Next time you’re unsure on a mission, come to me. Our information is never falsified."

Lu Jianwei thought: The more one insists, the more they lack.

"Senior Lan, didn’t you come to the inn to apologize too?" Xue Guanhe pointed out.

Lan Ling’s smile froze.

"That narrow-minded traitor has nothing to do with me."

"Given the alliance’s sincerity, I’ll let this matter rest," Lu Jianwei declared. "Young Hero Yu, rise."

Flushed with humiliation, Yu Jiansheng stood.

"Manager Lu, the apology gifts have been delivered. I won't impose further. Farewell."

Lu Jianwei nodded slightly. "Uncle Zhang, see our guest out."

With the Zhou family case now settled, no one troubled her for the time being. Lu Jianwei fully immersed herself in martial training, medicine, and the study of poisons and gu.

Her personal panel updated in real time.

Level: 6 (10,002,368/100,000,000) (Don’t get cocky—you’ve still got a long way to go.)

Skills: Fleeting Years (4/7), Sparse Stars Swordplay (4/7), Frost-Curling Blade Technique (4/7), Spring and Autumn Medical Classics (Beginner), Traces of the Wild Goose (6/9), Gu Arts (Beginner)

For Spring and Autumn Medical Classics and Gu Arts, the progression after Beginner was Skilled, Mastery, and Grandmaster.

Would she only be able to cure Tiao and Wen Zhuzhi’s poison once she reached Grandmaster?

Or perhaps she’d earn enough for her ticket home before even reaching that stage.

The Martial Alliance’s compensation of three million taels had brought her personal savings to fifteen million.

But it was unlikely she’d find another fool willing to throw money at her so easily.

How could she earn the remaining eighty-five million?

Lu Jianwei rubbed her temples.

Overthinking wouldn’t help—focusing on the present was what mattered.

The Eight Directions Inn welcomed different guests daily, mostly ordinary folk with a few wandering martial artists mixed in.

The daily room fees barely covered the staff’s meals.

Not every day saw injured warriors, and even when they were hurt, it wasn’t always meridian or dantian damage requiring her expertise.

With no patients, Lu Jianwei resorted to studying anatomical models.

Tiao’s poison was a mutated fusion of two toxins, both originating from the Soul-Severing Ridge in the southwest.

The ridge teemed with medicinal herbs and venomous creatures, but its dangers lived up to its name—Soul-Severing.

Had her lack of progress in detoxification been due to never visiting the source?

Frustrated, Lu Jianwei quietly resolved to plan a journey southwest.

One day, a new guest arrived at the inn—a man of obvious wealth, his carriage ornate, robes of fine silk, and a top-grade yellow jade pendant at his waist.

Fan swaying, he strode in, chin held high.

His attendant mirrored the arrogance, eyeing Xue Guanhe, who came forward to greet them, with a disdainful sniff.

"I heard this was Jiangzhou’s finest inn. Why’s the help so shabby?"

Xue Guanhe glanced down at himself.

Shabby?

He’d been practicing blade techniques by the river earlier and wore rough-spun work clothes to avoid ruining better ones. A few frayed edges hardly seemed worth the scorn.

But he didn’t take offense.

Having grown up in a tavern, he’d seen all kinds of guests.

"Will you be dining or staying, sir?"

"The finest room," the attendant declared.

"Of course."

Xue Guanhe led them inside while Yue Shu took charge of the horses.

"Third floor, west wing. Right this way." He logged the booking and fetched the key.

"Wait." The nobleman’s gaze sharpened as he peered into the courtyard. "Someone just passed by—I recognize them."

Xue Guanhe didn’t need to look. "Likely another staff member. Please, follow me."

"No." The man—Young Master Chen—frowned and hurried into the yard. Spotting A'Nai, he barked, "Wen Zhuzhi’s lackey!"

A'Nai turned, bucket in hand, smirking. "Well, if it isn’t Young Master Chen! Been a while. How’s the backside? Healed yet?"

Young Master Chen scoffed.

"Where’s that cripple Wen? Did he finally kick the bucket?"

A'Nai’s face darkened, and he hefted the bucket threateningly.

Xue Guanhe lunged to restrain him.

"Easy! Think of your savings!"