No Fighting Allowed in the Inn

◎Self-Recommended Servant, Leaning In, Intrusion◎

The flute's melody drifted gracefully, its tune soft and lingering.

A woman in flowing white robes stood atop a towering tree, a veiled hat upon her head, her hands holding a flute. The music cascaded down from the heavens like an ancient chant, cleansing the souls of those who heard it.

They were entranced, intoxicated, their weapons slipping from their hands.

Aleshu frowned. "What is she trying to do? Control everyone to steal Gubaitou? The people of the Carefree Sect are truly greedy!"

He harbored hatred for the disciples of the Carefree Sect who had caused Lin Congyue's death, and that hatred extended to everyone associated with the sect. No matter what the Carefree Sect did, in his eyes, it was hypocritical and deceitful.

Lu Jianwei, however, watched He Lianxue with keen interest.

Everyone present was at least a fifth-level warrior, yet He Lianxue, whose cultivation was only at the fifth level, could control so many fifth and sixth-level fighters with her flute.

Even seventh-level Martial Kings were briefly stunned, though they weren’t greatly affected.

Her talent in sonic-based martial techniques was truly exceptional.

An enraged seventh-level Martial King lashed out with a sword beam, only for it to dissolve mid-air against an invisible soundwave.

Martial King: ???

How could someone challenge beyond their level like this?!

He Lianxue was the daughter of the Carefree Sect’s leader, trained in the finest techniques and cultivation methods. With her extraordinary talent, deflecting one or two attacks was nothing—but she couldn’t sustain it for long.

She lowered her flute, her voice clear and ethereal.

"Gubaitou belongs to the Miao people. I urge you all to stop."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" someone shouted. "Mind your own business and get lost!"

"Rare herbs belong to those destined to find them. Why should I listen to you?"

"Scram! Or I won’t hold back—"

Zhao Rui slashed his sword at the offender. "Dare to insult Xue'er? Die!"

"Are you insane?!"

The two clashed in fierce combat.

Bian Xingzhou wasn’t about to be left behind either—his fan struck out at anyone who had dared to curse He Lianxue.

Among the younger disciples of other sects, many were fervent admirers of He Lianxue. They raised their weapons and charged at those who had insulted her.

Chaos erupted once more.

Aleshu gaped. "Are you Central Plains people all a bit slow in the head?"

"Only some," Lu Jianwei said, turning to Alehong. "Can you tell if there’s a gu worm inside her?"

Alehong furrowed his brows, observing for a moment before shaking his head. "I can’t sense anything."

"It must be the Gu Emperor. That night, my little Youyou was terrified to death," Aleshu muttered, still shaken.

"If it really is a gu worm at work, then things make sense," Lu Jianwei mused. "But why would the one who planted it do this?"

Turning He Lianxue into the most admired beauty in the martial world, making so many young disciples her devoted followers—what was the end goal?

Beneath the Gubaitou tree, the struggle intensified with He Lianxue’s appearance.

Some, unfamiliar with her, remained unaffected by her charm. Seizing the opportunity while others fought, they reached for the branches.

The pristine white petals perched delicately on the tree—each one was priceless.

A fortune awaited!

But another flute note descended, and their minds fell into a trance. The outstretched hands withdrew.

The melody grew faster, more intense, pounding against eardrums, clouding thoughts, rendering bodies helpless.

An enraged seventh-level Martial King resisted with all his might, his sword beams weaving a net to counter the invisible soundwaves.

Thud!

The sword energy pierced the sonic barrier, ruthlessly striking toward He Lianxue. She dodged nimbly, her sleeves rippling like waves in the air.

"How dare you hurt Xue'er!" Zhao Rui saw this and, disregarding the opponent’s superior strength, lunged with his sword.

The Martial King was furious. "Impudent brat, overestimating yourself!"

As a prodigy of the Sky Pillar Sect, Zhao Rui’s skills were formidable. In his rage, every strike was lethal.

The elite disciples of the Sky Pillar Sect were no cowards—facing a seventh-level Martial King didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Martial King: "..."

You’re all insane!

The disciples of the Carefree Sect had initially thought He Lianxue was here to aid them and rejoiced—until they realized their own bodies wouldn’t obey them.

Xue-jie’s sonic attacks were supposed to exclude allies. What was happening?

"Xue-jie, what are you doing? Release us!"

"While they’re distracted, let’s take the Gubaitou!"

He Lianxue sighed softly, her voice like a feather brushing against their hearts, filling them with boundless sorrow.

As if all the fighting had become meaningless.

Lu Jianwei thought to herself—this technique was like a debuff skill in a game, quite practical.

He Lianxue’s sonic attacks surely had more to them.

Those with weak wills had already dropped their weapons. Those with stronger resolve struggled desperately to break free from the sound’s influence.

He Lianxue raised her flute again, and a mournful melody began to flow.

Many shed tears.

Even Aleshu’s eyes reddened, but after years with Si Youyou, he had developed resistance to mental assaults. He snapped out of it quickly.

"Quite impressive," he muttered.

Alehong nodded. "For her age, she’s exceptional. The Central Plains martial world truly breeds talent."

Just Lu Jianwei alone could overshadow the entire southwest.

"Hmm?" Lu Jianwei’s gaze landed on one person.

Amid the chaos earlier, she hadn’t noticed him. But now, with He Lianxue’s control over the crowd, he stood out.

He was affected by the flute’s sound, but his will was strong—though slightly dizzy, he continued toward the Gubaitou.

A seventh-level Martial King, resisting the flute’s assault, reaching for the Gubaitou.

That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was—he wore a mask.

Those who came for the Gubaitou never wore masks. Disciples like Bian Xingzhou and Zhao Rui were elites of their sects. Lesser disciples or wandering warriors wouldn’t dare provoke them openly, and fights rarely turned deadly.

Major sects took the lion’s share; minor factions got the scraps.

That was the rule of the martial world.

Otherwise, Zhao Rui wouldn’t have confidently promised to protect Lin Wang back then.

Wearing a mask only made things harder.

Yet this Martial King did the opposite—hiding his face, as if afraid of being recognized.

Given his strength and status, it made no sense.

How ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‍intriguing.

He Lianxue, after all, was only a fifth-level cultivator. The combined resistance of the sixth and seventh-level warriors shattered her sonic attack.

Dozens of sword beams and blade lights surged toward the treetop, trapping her from all sides with no escape.

She channeled her inner energy to resist, but how could a fifth-level’s strength withstand so many attacks?

Her veiled hat was instantly shredded by the razor-sharp energy, strands of hair and tattered silk fluttering down.

A beauty like jade.

Lu Jianwei, along with the others, squinted to admire the peerless beauty atop the tree.

Her brows arched like crescent moons, her eyes sparkled like morning stars, her skin fairer than snow—a transcendent beauty, cold and pure as a lotus on a snowy plain.

"Xue'er!"

"Xue-jie!"

With her veil gone, her ardent admirers and fellow sect disciples panicked, wishing they could shield her from prying eyes.

Now that her face was revealed, who knew how many more admirers she would attract?

He Lianxue remained expressionless, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. Then, suddenly, she coughed up blood and slowly fell from the treetop.

Dozens of figures raced like the wind, swiftly charging toward the place of the fall.

Yet one figure moved even faster than them.

With eighth-level inner energy and peerless lightness skills, Lu Jianwei arrived just in time to catch the beauty before she hit the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist and returning to the viewing spot.

Actions speak louder than intentions. Regardless of whether He Lianxue truly meant to stop the others from seizing "Gubaitou," since she had made this choice, Lu Jianwei couldn’t turn a blind eye.

None of those beneath the tree were good people.

"It's time to go back," Lu Jianwei said.

Aleshu scoffed, "Why did you save her? She’s from the Carefree Sect!"

"If you want to avenge Lin Congyue, find the one who truly harmed her," Lu Jianwei replied seriously. "The Gu God Sect produced an Azhaqi—does that mean everyone in the sect is a traitor or a villain?"

"..."

Alehong added, "Miss He Lianxue was injured defending Gubaitou. We owe her gratitude."

Aleshu grumbled a reluctant, "Fine."

The fake Gubaitou still fluttered on the branch, swaying in the wind, while the battle beneath the tree resumed. Yet not a single sword glare or blade light came near the branch, for fear of damaging the treasure.

Dozens of people had rushed to rescue He Lianxue but found no trace of her, leaving them wondering if they had imagined it.

Zhao Rui kicked the tree trunk in frustration. "Where’s Xue’er?"

"Perhaps she left on her own," Bian Xingzhou sighed, gripping his fan tightly. "Maybe it’s for the best. Playing her flute to stop everyone would only earn her resentment."

"The flower!"

Someone suddenly remembered their mission and hurried back to join the renewed skirmish.

At the Gu God Sect, Lu Jianwei fed He Lianxue medicine for her internal injuries and then left her be.

It was just a minor wound—she’d recover soon.

Before long, He Lianxue opened her eyes.

A woman in pale green robes sat by the window, holding a book with a pristine, untitled cover.

A few strands of sunlight lingered on her lashes, casting long, slanting shadows.

He Lianxue watched silently, saying nothing.

"You’re awake—why stay quiet?" Lu Jianwei turned her head, smiling faintly.

She had sensed He Lianxue’s gaze long ago, waiting for her to speak first. But the famously reserved beauty, sober now, remained a silent statue.

He Lianxue’s nose suddenly stung, her chest tightening as if something were lodged there. Tears spilled unbidden.

Lu Jianwei: ???

"Does it hurt somewhere?" she asked.

He Lianxue shook her head, her reddened eyes fixed on Lu Jianwei like a lost, helpless rabbit.

A beauty’s tears could move anyone’s heart.

Lu Jianwei softened. "You stood against so many people earlier. Aren’t you afraid your sect will reprimand you? That you won’t be able to walk the martial world freely anymore?"

"I am," He Lianxue admitted hoarsely. "But I believe you were right."

"You’re the daughter of the Carefree Sect’s leader. No one would dare judge you too harshly. Return to your sect, focus on cultivation, and avoid worldly affairs. Once the storm passes, no one will remember this."

"I don’t want to go back."

"Why not?"

"Manager Lu," He Lianxue suddenly sat up, eyes brimming with hope, "could I work at your inn as a helper?"

"..."

Seeing her hesitation, He Lianxue pressed earnestly, "Manager Lu, your words that day woke me up. All my life, I’ve followed the sect’s rules. In the martial world, I’ve been like a puppet, obeying its customs without thought."

"Every place has rules. Even if you became an inn helper, you’d have to follow ours," Lu Jianwei chuckled. "Miss He Lianxue, the inn isn’t for you."

"It is!" He Lianxue insisted urgently. "After reading those novels, I felt something shift inside me—though I can’t explain it. I admire you. I want to be someone like you, upholding justice. But I was still too naive, thinking I could partner with you to seize the Miao treasure."

Lu Jianwei only smiled, offering no reply.

"Manager Lu, I truly understand your sense of righteousness now. I want to follow you."

"Miss He Lianxue," Lu Jianwei had to remind her, "do you know what my helpers do every day?"

He Lianxue nodded firmly. "Yan Feicang chops wood. Xue Guanhe cooks. Tiao excels in medicine and poison. Yue Shu knows esoteric arts. Senior Zhang handles all affairs. I know all of it."

"Then what do you think you could do at the inn?"

"..."

Lu Jianwei stood with a smile. "Once your injuries heal, go home."

"Manager Lu," He Lianxue called after her, "I’ll protect the inn."

Lu Jianwei: "..."

"I can learn anything. Do anything," He Lianxue declared solemnly. "The Eight Directions Inn is renowned in the martial world, but its reputation rests solely on you. In terms of collective strength, it can’t compare to the great sects."

Lu Jianwei arched a brow. "What are you implying?"

"If I join, I can take on tasks to free the others’ time, letting them focus on improving their skills."

Lu Jianwei laughed. "You don’t really think chopping wood or cooking hinders their training, do you?"

"Doesn’t it?"

"I believe balance is key. Obsessing over progress alone leads to tunnel vision."

He Lianxue paused, absorbing this. "I see. Thank you."

Lu Jianwei returned to her room, where she found Wen Zhuzhi waiting outside.

Seated in his wheelchair, he held a book. At the sound of her approach, he looked up, his eyes brightening as they locked onto her, tracing her every movement without missing a detail.

Her heart stirred. "Waiting for me?"

Wen Zhuzhi: "Mn. You’ve worked hard."

"Not at all. With the sect leader guiding us, none of the venomous creatures dared come close. I even got to watch some excitement." She pushed open the door. "Come in."

The wheelchair rolled smoothly into the room.

"How was the battle?" he asked, pouring her a cup of tea at the table.

Steam curled upward like mist.

"Quite intense." Lu Jianwei accepted the cup. "It’s hot?"

"I heard you returning and brewed a fresh pot," Wen Zhuzhi murmured, lowering his gaze. "But I misjudged your timing. It’s cooled slightly."

Her fingers tightened around the cup as she studied his expression. Yet the commander of the Mystic Mirror Division had long mastered the art of concealing his emotions—how could she read him so easily?

A smile tugged at her lips. "I rescued an injured beauty. She just woke up, so I was delayed."

Wen Zhuzhi’s eyes snapped up. "Who?"

"Guess?" Her eyes glinted with amusement.

"He Lianxue." The tension in his brow eased. "For Gubaitou?"

"Correct." She leaned in, so close she could see her own reflection in his pupils. "You’ve earned a reward."

"What reward?"

"What would you like?"

He held her gaze, his long lashes catching the dim, slanting light, his stare deepening as it drifted from her eyes to her lips.

That fleeting touch from before had sent ripples through his heart, unceasing even now.

He leaned in slightly.

"Jianwei!" Xiao Ke’s voice suddenly cut in. "Someone’s attacking the inn!"

"Which branch? How many?" Lu Jianwei stiffened. "Who’s behind it?"

She wasn’t worried about the safety of her staff, but she was quite curious about who had chosen this moment to oppose her.

"Intruders have breached the inns in Fengzhou, Jiangzhou, and Dadacheng! Fengzhou has one sixth-rank and one fifth-rank, Jiangzhou has two sixth-ranks, and Dadacheng has two sixth-ranks and one seventh-rank. They’re masked, dressed in black, and their identities are unclear."

Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow. Well, well—they didn’t miss a single one.

The Fengzhou inn was empty, so the intruders were likely searching for clues. Jiangzhou and Dadacheng had staff inside—were they trying to catch her off guard while she was away?

After all, ninth-rank Martial Kings weren’t so common that they could be in both Jiangzhou and Dadacheng at once, nor were they so idle as to spend their days guarding inns.

If she were the mastermind behind this, she’d also seize the opportunity to test the waters while she was absent.

"Manager Lu?" Wen Zhuzhi noticed her distraction.

"Xiao Ke, activate the defensive measures only if the staff can’t hold their ground. As for the Fengzhou inn, let them search to their heart’s content." Lu Jianwei gave the order before turning back to Wen Zhuzhi. "I was just thinking—what is it that you want?"

Wen Zhuzhi straightened slightly. "What I want is for Manager Lu to allow me to accompany you, no matter where you go."

"Of course." Lu Jianwei didn’t hesitate.

Wen Zhuzhi felt a wave of reassurance at her immediate agreement.

"When do we return?"

"Tomorrow." Lu Jianwei said. "The antidote is ready. Once we’re back, we can cure Tiao."

"Mm. Rest early." Wen Zhuzhi turned his wheelchair, preparing to leave the room.

Lu Jianwei caught the armrest. Before he could react, she pressed a light kiss to his lips—just a fleeting brush of warmth.

"Master Wen, sweet dreams."

Wen Zhuzhi held his breath, momentarily stunned. By the time Lu Jianwei released the armrest and stepped back, his ears were burning, and his gentle eyes lingered on her.

He didn’t want to leave.

Lu Jianwei teased him, "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

"……"

Wen Zhuzhi’s pale face flushed crimson. He swiftly activated the wheelchair’s mechanism, turned around, and hurried out of her room.

——

Eight Directions Inn, Jiangzhou.

After a long day’s work, Uncle Zhang closed the courtyard gate and was about to retire when a sudden sense of danger prickled his skin.

He dodged instantly, unleashing the fifth stance of the Surging Waves Palm with tremendous force.

Inside the house, Yuan Qiong reacted to the noise, sending silver needles imbued with sixth-rank energy toward the intruder—only for them to be deflected and scattered.

Two sixth-rank assassins stood atop the courtyard wall, clad in black with only their lifeless eyes exposed.

A sword gleamed coldly through the night, its murderous aura enveloping the entire inn.

A fierce battle erupted.

The assassins were both sixth-rank, armed with swords. The inn’s defenders—one fifth-rank, one sixth-rank—were at a disadvantage. The former only knew palm techniques, while the latter, a physician, was skilled in healing, not combat.

The assassins’ swordplay grew increasingly ruthless, each strike aimed to kill.

Zhang Gaozhu had roamed the martial world for years, surviving countless life-or-death situations. Each narrow escape had deepened his insights.

He feared neither death nor danger.

But Madam Yun and Bai Guo were inside, and Yuan Qiong was beside him. He couldn’t afford to lose.

The Surging Waves Palm was undeniably a top-tier martial art in the martial world.

Zhang Gaozhu had devoted himself to mastering its essence. The palm force he summoned now resembled towering waves, forming an immense wall of water that crashed toward the assassins.

Boom—

One sixth-rank assassin was sent flying uncontrollably.

The other assassin: ???

Blades of sword energy weaved through the air, raining down on the courtyard, but each was neutralized. A few stray slashes struck the walls and house—yet left no trace.

Had the assassins been more observant, they would’ve noticed the eerie lack of damage.

The darkness amplified their killing intent but also concealed the clues.

Zhang Gaozhu’s martial prowess held firm, while Yuan Qiong scattered poison powder, forcing the assassins to retreat temporarily.

For now, they weren’t losing.

But soon, the assassins grew impatient.

Exchanging a glance, they executed a dual-sword technique, doubling their power as they launched a merciless assault on the inn.

Zhang Gaozhu poured everything into his defense, channeling all his energy into his palms—but the combined force of two sixth-rank experts shattered his resistance, their energy surging toward his meridians and dantian.

The inn was on the brink of destruction!

Guilt and desperation ignited an unyielding resolve in him. Gathering the last dregs of his energy, he attempted the sixth stance of the Surging Waves Palm—

A technique he hadn’t fully mastered.

"Master!" Bai Guo’s cry rang out.

Yuan Qiong was struck by a blade of sword energy, her white robes instantly stained with blood as she collapsed.

Zhang Gaozhu steeled himself for a final, desperate stand.

Sixth Stance—Endless Surging Waves.

Miraculously, layer upon layer of energy surged from his dantian, flowing through his meridians to his palms. Each wave reinforced the next, forming an overwhelming force that met the assassins’ relentless assault head-on.

One wave receded, another rose.

No sooner was one crushed than the next rushed forth, endless and unyielding.

Assassins: How is this possible?! He was nearly out of energy!

Zhang Gaozhu knew he was overdrawing his strength—what toll this would take on his body, he couldn’t say.

His mind held only one conviction: Protect the inn at all costs.

The ceaseless tide of energy stalled the assassins’ advance, buying the inn a fleeting respite.

But what did it matter?

His energy would run out eventually.

The assassins waited for him to collapse.

"Senior Zhang!" Yun Hui rushed out of the hall without hesitation, flinging several pills at the assassins.

The pills burst into powder midair, dusting the assassins’ faces.

It was poison Tiao had left behind for self-defense.

In this critical moment, Yun Hui hadn’t hesitated to use it.

The assassins had dismissed her—a woman without martial energy—as irrelevant. Even when she charged out, they paid her no mind. Who could’ve predicted she’d throw poison?

The powder took effect immediately.

The assassins’ faces swelled grotesquely, their skin itching and stretching until their eyes were squeezed shut.

Their internal energy grew unstable.

"Finish this quickly!"

They made their decision, pouring all their remaining energy into a final, joint sword technique. The force of it roared like dragons and tigers, poised to reduce the inn to rubble and bury everyone inside.

Their bloated faces twisted in triumph—

Then froze.

An overwhelming power descended without warning, crushing their momentum in an instant.

A true expert!

The thought barely formed before they collapsed.

Relief flooded Zhang Gaozhu—a powerful ally had intervened just in time!

The tension drained from him, and he lost consciousness.

——

Dadacheng Inn.

The assassins’ attack didn’t throw the staff into chaos.

Yue Shu had long since set up formations in the courtyard. Under his direction, Yan Feicang, Xue Guanhe, Tiao, Liang Shangjun, and A'Nai engaged the assassins in a deadly game of cat and mouse within the formations.

One seventh-rank assassin was handled by Yan Feicang, now at mid-sixth-rank. The two sixth-rank assassins were dealt with by the others working together.

Even if the assassins chose to brute-force their way through the formations, doing so would drain their energy drastically.

But skulking through the formations, vulnerable to ambushes, was even more frustrating.

No matter which path they took, they were at a disadvantage.

The seventh-rank Martial King quickly assessed the situation and made his choice.

Break the formations by force!

Once the formations were down, he could handle the others while the two sixth-rank assassins teamed up against Yan Feicang.

Under the relentless assault of the seventh-level Martial King, the formation shattered with a thunderous crash.

He thrust his sword toward Yue Shu, the one who had set up the formation, only to suddenly realize his internal energy was draining away!

How could this be?!

Tiao clutched her medicine pouch, a handful of powder at the ready, her large eyes filled with confusion as she stared at the three men.

Why hadn’t they collapsed yet?

Earlier, using the cover of the formation, she had silently dosed them with her homemade Ordinary Guest poison.

Ever since her time in Jiangzhou, she had been researching Ordinary Guest, and after thoroughly studying Lin Congyue’s medical texts, her skills had improved dramatically—so much so that she had actually managed to recreate the formula.

Using this poison to subdue enemies was the perfect solution.

The three assassins stood frozen in place, fear creeping in as they felt their internal energy slipping away.

"Despicable! To resort to such underhanded tricks!"

Xue Guanhe read the accusation in their eyes and spat disdainfully, gripping his blade. "Sneaking up on us in the dead of night—that’s the act of cowardly rats!"

"Why waste words on them? Tie them up and toss them in the stables," Liang Shangjun interjected, worried they might have poison hidden in their mouths. Without delay, he dislocated their jaws and fetched rope.

Anyone who dared provoke the inn would inevitably end up in the stables.

As for the rest—they’d wait for the innkeeper to return and decide their fate.