No Fighting Allowed in the Inn

After Zhuang Wenqing's death, the Thousand Miles Tower was left without a leader, and its members scattered like monkeys fleeing a toppled tree. Many elders and disciples fled Jingzhou with their private wealth.

Only a handful remained steadfast.

Qi Yan, leading Han Xiaofeng and a group of Mystic Mirror Envoys, thoroughly swept through the Thousand Miles Tower before beginning to inventory the assets.

They uncovered a trove of gold, silver, and jewels from the vaults. Based on the account books, the total value of the stored treasures amounted to approximately fifteen million taels.

The Thousand Miles Tower also owned vast tracts of land and numerous shops, but these were temporarily left untouched as Qi Yan ordered the immediate removal of the vault's contents.

Having operated for years, the Tower had not only amassed wealth but also compiled numerous records of confidential matters.

These records were hidden in Zhuang Wenqing's private residence.

"Han Xiaofeng, check for hidden compartments or secret rooms," Qi Yan instructed, tapping the bookshelves carefully with the scabbard of her blade.

Han Xiaofeng responded, "Here."

He opened a concealed compartment containing several sheets of paper.

The documents detailed information about the Eight Directions Inn, though only superficial details—nothing substantial, not even the name of Manager Lu's martial sect.

The Thousand Miles Tower, which had never failed before, had repeatedly hit a wall with the Eight Directions Inn. Zhuang Wenqing must have been tormented day and night by this.

Qi Yan couldn’t help but smirk.

"To lose his life just to uncover some background information—that’s not something an eighth-level Martial King would do."

"His motives must have been more complicated," Han Xiaofeng remarked. "He just didn’t expect to provoke Manager Lu, an iron wall he couldn’t break."

Qi Yan detected another anomaly and uncovered a second hidden compartment. Inside was another document. As she unfolded it, her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"So, he was investigating the Chief Commander all along."

Han Xiaofeng fell silent.

"What’s wrong?"

"Back at the Fengzhou and Jiangzhou inns, I crossed paths with—ahem—the Chief Commander a few times but failed to recognize him. I’m deeply ashamed."

Qi Yan: "..."

She had also visited the Jiangzhou inn. Though she hadn’t met "Rich Man Wen," she knew he was there.

They had been very close.

For all she knew, the Chief Commander might have been in his room, listening as she haggled with Manager Lu.

Looking back, it felt both strange and awkward.

"Keep searching," she ordered, moving to another bookshelf.

"Found it!" A green-robed envoy triggered a mechanism, and the wall behind the bookshelf slowly slid open.

Before they could enter, a black-clad figure darted out from the secret chamber, fleeing toward the exit.

Qi Yan immediately gave chase, hurling a steel grappling hook—a finely crafted tool with a swift mechanism—that wrapped around the intruder’s ankle.

The man stumbled, turning to slash at the chain with his sword.

His blade was sharp, enhanced by mid-seventh-level internal energy, and it severed the chain in one strike.

But before he could escape, Qi Yan’s saber was upon him.

A mid-seventh-level fighter against an early-seventh-level one—the odds were in his favor.

The swordsman was skilled, his techniques refined, and his combat instincts sharp. With the advantage in internal energy, Qi Yan gradually found herself overpowered.

Han Xiaofeng and the other Mystic Mirror Envoys closed in, but Qi Yan was their strongest fighter. If she couldn’t subdue him, the others stood no chance.

The black-clad figure fended them off and leaped toward the courtyard wall—only to slip at the critical moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Qi Yan used the remaining chain to ensnare his legs, yanking him down before he could recover. She then flung a handful of powder in his face.

The others: "???"

"This is just ordinary guest powder, given to me by Manager Lu before we left," Qi Yan explained.

The group: "..."

But the powder had dispersed in the air, and they had inhaled plenty of it too.

Qi Yan produced several antidote pills, distributing them to her companions. Once ingested, their suppressed internal energy returned.

The black-clad intruder, however, had inhaled enough of the powder without an antidote and was now immobilized.

To prevent suicide, Qi Yan sealed his pressure points.

The man: "..."

"He’s hiding something in his robes," Han Xiaofeng said, reaching into the man’s clothing and retrieving several letters, which he handed to Qi Yan.

The envelopes bore no markings. Qi Yan opened one, and her expression shifted instantly.

She quickly tucked the letters into her own robes, scanning the surroundings—her gaze lingering subtly on a corner of the courtyard wall.

A scribe accompanying them clutched a book chest, hiding behind a tree.

"Han Xiaofeng, take two men and search the secret chamber. The rest of you, finish clearing the vault."

The team obeyed.

Trained and efficient, the Mystic Mirror Envoys combed through every corner of the Thousand Miles Tower. All valuables—from the vault and elsewhere—were loaded onto prepared carts and transported to Fengzhou.

The journey took nearly twenty days.

"Manager Lu, I have urgent news. I came ahead—the convoy is still on the way," Qi Yan announced as she entered the inn, her face weathered from travel.

"Guanhe, serve Deputy Chief Envoy Qi some tea," Lu Jianwei instructed, inviting her into the main hall.

Pei Zhi followed them inside.

Only after sitting did Qi Yan notice the other person in the room.

She froze for a moment before rising hastily and bowing. "This subordinate greets the Chief Commander."

Before leaving the inn, the Chief Commander had collapsed from poison. Now, he stood tall and vigorous—had he been cured?

Pei Zhi gave a slight nod. "You’ve worked hard."

"It’s my duty to investigate cases," Qi Yan replied, standing stiffly, unsure of what to do with herself.

Since joining the Mystic Mirror Bureau, she had rarely seen the Chief Commander—and even then, only glimpses of his back.

He was a figure of legend, his true face unknown even to his own envoys.

Facing her superior directly for the first time, Qi Yan’s heart pounded nervously.

Lu Jianwei found her reaction amusing and said gently, "Deputy Chief Envoy Qi, please sit."

Her words carried a soothing, almost magical quality, easing Qi Yan’s tension instantly.

Xue Guanhe arrived promptly with tea.

It was one of the inn’s finest blends—Ta Qing Tai.

The clear, refreshing aroma calmed Qi Yan’s travel-wearied nerves. She accepted the cup gratefully. "Thank you for your hospitality, Manager Lu."

"No need for formalities. You’ve had a long journey," Lu Jianwei replied warmly. "If you like it, I’ll give you a canister to take with you."

"I won’t refuse such generosity," Qi Yan said with delight. After a sip to soothe her parched throat, she continued, "I discovered several letters."

She produced the envelopes but hesitated—should she hand them to Manager Lu or the Chief Commander?

Lu Jianwei smoothly took them, scanning the first before raising an eyebrow and passing it to Pei Zhi.

"Take a look."

Pei Zhi didn’t accept it. Instead, he leaned in, his eyes skimming the contents without a change in expression.

"Finished?"

"Yes."

Lu Jianwei opened the other letters, and the two examined them together.

Qi Yan: "???"

She knew Manager Lu had saved the Chief Commander’s life, so his respect was understandable. But the way they interacted didn’t seem like mere gratitude between rescuer and rescued.

It felt… unusually intimate.

Wait—intimate?!

Qi Yan’s eyes widened in realization.

Once this thought took root in her mind, it became impossible to shake off, and everything seemed amiss.

The cold and enigmatic Chief Commander was standing far too close. After reading a letter, he even smiled at Manager Lu, who then reached out to smooth the ends of his hair…

Qi Yan shuddered involuntarily.

She had stumbled upon a shocking secret!

"Deputy Chief Qi, aside from these letters, are there any other pieces of evidence?" Manager Lu asked after finishing the correspondence, lifting her gaze.

Qi Yan sat rigidly upright. "There’s also a witness—the very person who infiltrated Zhuang Wenqing’s secret chamber that day, intending to steal these letters. He’s currently being escorted to the inn."

"Who is he?"

"He’s not listed in the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s registry of wandering martial artists, but whoever sought to steal and destroy these letters must be their owner."

Manager Lu nodded. "Personal letters from the Carefree Sect’s leader—quite an eye-opener. Once the thief arrives at the inn, this matter will be settled."

"Manager Lu, there’s one more thing."

"Go ahead."

Qi Yan said, "All of the valuables from Thousand Miles Tower have been loaded onto carts and transported to the inn. However, there are still numerous estates and shops beneath it that haven’t been inventoried yet."

"No matter, that can wait."

"When I apprehended the thief, he nearly escaped," Qi Yan added. "Before the grand competition, I received a secret order from the Chief Commander instructing me to discreetly monitor the accompanying scribes. I kept an eye out."

Pei Zhi glanced at Manager Lu. "You mentioned ‘Mei Sixian’ to me before. At the time, my identity hadn’t been revealed, so I issued the order covertly."

"Mm." Manager Lu smiled faintly in acknowledgment. "What did Deputy Chief Qi discover?"

Qi Yan replied, "The thief was at the mid-seventh rank, stronger than me. He could’ve easily vaulted over the courtyard wall to escape, but he slipped at the last moment and lost his chance. Such a careless mistake shouldn’t happen to a seventh-rank Martial King."

"You suspect someone intervened secretly?"

"Yes, but I have no proof."

Manager Lu pondered for a few breaths before saying, "Treat it as an accident. Don’t mention it to anyone else."

Mei Sixian was far too mysterious. Until she uncovered his motives and background, she didn’t want to act rashly.

Better to pretend ignorance.

Qi Yan naturally agreed.

The Mystic Mirror Bureau’s treasure convoy wouldn’t arrive for a few more days. Manager Lu could afford to wait, but others couldn’t.

Several sect elders didn’t want to step forward themselves, so they pushed Meng Ti'an—their lackey—to act as their mouthpiece.

Meng Ti'an waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t care about this grand competition. Whenever it happens, as the inn’s physician, my only duty is to heal the sick and wounded. If you have questions, ask them yourselves."

"Physician Meng, don’t you want to finish early and return to Divine Physician Valley?" Hei Zhan grumbled.

Meng Ti'an shook his head. "I haven’t mastered the needle techniques yet. Ask the physicians behind me—who among them wants to rush back?"

The physicians behind him all shook their heads.

Some hadn’t even collected enough Benevolence Beads and were too preoccupied with their own troubles to care about this matter.

Luo Wanchun tried to persuade him. "If the competition concludes sooner, you might get to see Gu Baitou earlier."

"And what if I do?" Meng Ti'an replied, unimpressed. "It’s not like he’s mine."

Luo Wanchun: "…"

One physician asked, "Why are you all in such a hurry to leave?"

"The one-month deadline is approaching. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll have to pay for another month," Hei Zhan said, his thick brows furrowed. "The courtyard requires a minimum one-month rental, and it costs five hundred taels. Our Black Wind Fort’s money doesn’t grow on trees."

Meng Ti'an: "…"

Thankfully, Divine Physician Valley was wealthy.

"Physician Meng, you’re closest to Manager Lu. We’d appreciate it if you could ask on our behalf," Luo Wanchun said with a cupped-hand salute.

Meng Ti'an liked hearing that. Coincidentally, he also had something to discuss with Manager Lu, so he pretended to reluctantly agree.

Once the others left, he untied the brocade pouch at his waist and poured out the Benevolence Beads inside, counting them once more.

Twenty-three—perfect.

During Zhuang Wenqing’s earlier rampage, many in the arena had been injured. As the lead physician of Divine Physician Valley, he had treated the most patients and accumulated twenty-three beads.

Manager Lu had said that ten beads would grant entry to the inn’s medical school, but the school had yet to open. He’d asked Physician Yun Shuitiao, but even she had no definite answer.

While those brutes couldn’t wait, he too was growing impatient.

Clutching his twenty-three beads, he made his way to the inn’s main courtyard and knocked on the closed gate.

The door was opened by a gentle, kind-eyed woman in her thirties.

"Madam Yun, I’d like to consult Manager Lu about something. Would you be so kind as to announce me?"

Yun Hui turned and relayed the request to Manager Lu, who lounged in a rocking chair in the courtyard.

"Let him in," Manager Lu said lazily.

Meng Ti'an stepped cautiously into the front courtyard.

The warm spring sunlight spilled generously over the scene, illuminating the hem of the woman’s robes as she reclined. Beside the rocking chair, an elegant man quietly brewed tea. The kettle on the stove whistled merrily as he lifted it, pouring a cup of delicate white tea—its fragrance instantly filling the air.

Meng Ti'an thought: What a picture of leisure and contentment.

"Weiwei." The man handed the teacup to the woman.

Meng Ti'an: ???

What did he just call her?

The Chief Commander of the Mystic Mirror Bureau and the proprietress of the Eight Directions Inn?

Was this for real?

He stood frozen, staring blankly as Manager Lu sipped her tea, completely forgetting his original purpose for coming.

"Elder Meng, did you need something?" Manager Lu’s tone was unhurried, her expression mild.

Seeing her in good spirits eased some of Meng Ti'an’s nervousness.

"Manager Lu, you once said that collecting ten Benevolence Beads would grant entry to the medical school. Does that still hold?"

Manager Lu replied, "Recent matters have kept me occupied. The school will open after the grand competition. If you can wait, Elder Meng, then wait. If not, you’re free to leave."

"Of course, I can wait," Meng Ti'an said, somewhat reassured. As long as she wasn’t going back on her word. But—"May I ask, Manager Lu, when will the competition resume?"

"Have all the injured from that day recovered?"

"Yes, all of them."

Manager Lu said, "In that case, inform the other sects to gather at the arena three days from now, at the start of the si hour."

"I’ll remember that."

Three days later, the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s convoy arrived at the inn at the start of the chen hour.

Han Xiaofeng presented a chest of ledgers and a thick inventory list, handing them all to Manager Lu.

"Manager Lu, these are all the account books and treasury records from Thousand Miles Tower. Please review them."

Manager Lu said, "Madam Yun, Uncle Zhang, the two of you will oversee the inventory. The rest of you, prepare fine wine and dishes to welcome the hardworking Mystic Mirror Envoys. Also, draw hot water so they can bathe and change after the meal, then rest properly."

"Ah?" Han Xiaofeng was taken aback. They were accustomed to enduring hardships on missions, braving wind and rain without complaint.

Every time they returned to headquarters after completing a task, they were immediately dispatched to the next case.

Never had they been treated so lavishly.

But he couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in his chest, as if all their toil day and night suddenly felt worthwhile.

He clasped his hands in gratitude. "Thank you, Manager Lu."

Meanwhile, Qi Yan thought: For the Chief Commander to be with Manager Lu is truly a blessing for the entire Mystic Mirror Bureau. Let’s just hope he puts in more effort—don’t let her abandon him.

An hour later, the Mystic Mirror Envoys, well-fed and content, retired to rest.

Yun Hui and Uncle Zhang had also finished their inventory.

"Manager Lu, these gold, silver, jewels, antiques, and paintings combined are worth approximately fifteen million taels."

Fifteen million taels—split between her and Xiao Ke at a six-to-four ratio, she would get nine million, while Xiao Ke would receive six million.

"Xiao Ke, we made a fortune. Aren’t you happy?"

Xiao Ke: "Only six million? I was practically drained dry that day."

"Don’t worry, there are still the farm estates and shops. These are sustainable sources of income. You’ll earn it back eventually."

"How long will that take?" Xiao Ke said. "Besides, Jingzhou is far from Fengzhou. Without trustworthy people to manage those properties, others might end up pocketing the profits."

Lu Jianwei: "That is indeed a problem."

Her current personal assets, all combined, were close to forty million taels—still a considerable distance from a hundred million.

"Confiscating property" was indeed a quick way to make money, but such opportunities were rare.

She needed industries that could generate continuous wealth.

"Manager Lu, should I store all these in the inn’s treasury?"

"Go ahead."

After the inn’s expansion, a separate treasury had been built next to the main courtyard.

With Lu Jianwei around, no one dared to covet its contents.

She had also bound an inn tool to the treasury—a level-one attack tool for surveillance, costing only a hundred copper coins.

The sheer volume of these valuables made them too conspicuous. With so many high-level martial artists now staying at the inn, the excuse of "sending them back to the sect" no longer held water.

To avoid suspicion, she decided not to store them in the system for now.

But Xiao Ke’s share posed a problem.

How could six million taels’ worth of goods just vanish into thin air?

"Weiwei, it’s almost si hour (9–11 AM)," Pei Zhi reminded her.

Lu Jianwei snapped out of her thoughts and instructed Qi Yan: "Bring the letter thief to the arena as well."

The letter thief, having inhaled "Ordinary Guest" and been sealed with acupressure, had no chance of escape. Left unattended, he had become filthy and disheveled along the way.

To avoid offending Lu Jianwei, Han Xiaofeng first rinsed him with water before taking him to the arena.

Qi Yan asked, "What about the accompanying scribe?"

When she left Jingzhou, the Mei scribe was still with the group, but he was nowhere to be seen upon arriving in Fengzhou.

Han Xiaofeng: "His task was complete, so he returned to the capital to report."

Qi Yan didn’t press further.

At the beginning of si hour, all the inn’s guests gathered in the arena.

Lu Jianwei once again took the central seat, but this time, the person to her left was not Xie Tongshu of the Carefree Sect—it was Pei Zhi.

Though many felt uneasy about this, Pei Zhi was now at the late eighth level, making him the strongest martial artist present after Manager Lu. His place beside her was justified.

If Manager Lu wanted the Mystic Mirror Bureau involved in martial world affairs, who were they to object?

Moreover, rumors had begun circulating—alleging that Pei Zhi and Manager Lu were involved in that kind of relationship—so no one dared to slight her.

The Mystic Mirror Bureau’s commander truly had some skill, managing to win Manager Lu’s favor. Hmph!

"Manager Lu, have you gathered us here to continue the grand competition?" Hei Zhan asked loudly.

Lu Jianwei: "The competition can wait. There’s a more pressing matter to discuss."

"Please speak, Manager Lu."

Lu Jianwei: "Bring him forward."

At her command, Yan Feicang hauled the letter thief onto the stage and forced him to his knees.

"Who ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍is this?"

"Manager Lu, what is the meaning of this?"

Confusion spread among the crowd—except for the Carefree Sect’s elders and disciples.

Xie Tongshu’s expression darkened as his gaze shifted from the stage to Lu Jianwei. "Manager Lu, I request an explanation."

"It seems Elder Xie recognizes this man," Lu Jianwei said solemnly. "I was hoping you could explain."

Helian Xue spoke without hesitation: "This man is a disciple of our Carefree Sect. He wasn’t supposed to be in Fengzhou. Manager Lu, how did he end up here?"

"Envoy Qi, explain to everyone."

As soon as Lu Jianwei spoke, Qi Yan leaped onto the stage, landing beside the letter thief.

She was concise: "Everyone, under Manager Lu’s orders, I investigated the Thousand-Mile Tower in Fengzhou. This man fled from Zhuang Wenqing’s secret chamber, carrying several letters. All your questions can be answered by these letters."

"What letters?" Zhao Xian, seated to Lu Jianwei’s right, perked up at the mention of the Carefree Sect’s involvement.

Lu Jianwei handed him one letter, then distributed the rest to various elders—except Xie Tongshu.

The moment they read the contents, the crowd collectively gasped, their faces twisting in disbelief.

Zhao Xian, never one for tact, brandished his letter and glared at Xie Tongshu.

"Well, well! So the Gu Emperor used by Zhuang Wenqing was provided by the Carefree Sect’s leader! Helian Zheng colluded with the Thousand-Mile Tower to harm the martial world. How outrageous!"

The arena erupted.

Sect Leader Helian had been exchanging letters with Zhuang Wenqing?!

"Impossible!" A Carefree Sect disciple protested. "Our sect strictly forbids gu sorcery! How could the Gu Emperor have anything to do with our leader? These letters must be forged!"

"Young man, mind your words," Zhao Xian said coldly. "Are you suggesting Manager Lu fabricated these letters just to slander Helian Zheng? That man on stage is your sect’s disciple. Why was he in Zhuang Wenqing’s chamber? Clearly, Helian Zheng sent him to destroy evidence!"

The disciple: "How can we trust the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s words?"

Zhao Xian ignored him and turned to the crowd. "You’ve all seen the letters. Don’t you have anything to say?"

There were six letters in total.

The first, dated over twenty years ago, mentioned the death of a ninth-level martial king outside Moonview City and Helian Zheng’s ascension as sect leader.

Later letters referenced a "she"—phrases like "she refined the Gu Emperor" and "she has no choice but to obey me."

Subsequent letters touched on the "establishment of the Mystic Mirror Bureau," "planting gu during the Martial Alliance’s grand competition," "Eight Directions Inn," and the "Gu God Festival."

These were all written by Helian Zheng to Zhuang Wenqing. Whether Zhuang Wenqing replied remained unknown.

Zhao Xian, ever the provocateur, ordered a disciple to read the letters aloud.

Under the blazing sun, everyone present felt a chill crawl down their spines.

This was a vast, insidious conspiracy targeting the entire martial world.

Why had Helian Zheng conspired with Zhuang Wenqing?

Did he plan to use gu sorcery to control martial artists and dominate the world?

Xie Tongshu’s face was icy, his knuckles white around his horsetail whisk. Under the scrutiny of the martial world’s elite, he offered no rebuttal.

The Carefree Sect disciples were a picture of panic and confusion.

Helian Xue’s heart sank like a stone.

She had just assured Manager Lu that her sect banned gu sorcery—only for these letters to tear away the sect’s hypocritical facade.

Was the Gu Emperor inside her connected to her father?

In his eyes, was she just a tool to manipulate young martial artists?

How laughable.

This was utterly laughable.

All these years of restraint and endurance—nothing but a farcical performance. To make the Gu Emperor’s allure seem natural, she had to play the part of an ethereal, noble maiden.

Because in his mind, only such a woman could captivate young warriors, lend credibility, and avoid suspicion.

"Manager Lu, the Carefree Sect harbors wicked ambitions—we must not tolerate this!" Zhao Xian once again stirred the fury of the martial artists in the arena.

All eyes were fixed on Lu Jianwei, awaiting his response.

Leaning his cheek against his hand, Lu Jianwei only asked one indifferent question.

"Shall the grand competition continue or not?"

The crowd fell silent.