No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 147
Though Liang Shangjun was rather narcissistic, his keen observation skills were commendable.
Lu Jianwei praised him a few words before sending him on his way.
As soon as these peculiar guests checked into the Eight Directions Inn, she had instructed Xiao Ke to keep a close eye on them.
The one who loved poking his nose into everything was undoubtedly Wan Cong.
Back in Cangzhou, she had already harbored suspicions. Wan Cong was skilled in disguise and concealing his presence, known only for gathering information without involving himself in martial disputes—likely hailing from a reclusive sect.
His disguise techniques and lightness skills bore some resemblance to Liang Shangjun’s.
After obtaining information about Liang Shangjun in Fengguang City, Lu Jianwei and Pei Zhi speculated that his mother might be connected to a reclusive sect. His martial arts were derived from the techniques she left behind, and since they belonged to the same hidden sect, it wasn’t unusual for their skills to overlap—perhaps even through marital ties.
A pigeon landed on the windowsill, shaking its wings.
Lu Jianwei retrieved the message tube, refilled its feeding dish, and unfolded the note.
The letter was from Pei Zhi—this was how the two had been corresponding lately.
The message was brief, easily read at a glance.
She perused it a few more times before placing it in a dedicated box.
From outside the courtyard came an excited voice.
"Young Lady Helian is back!" Yun Hui greeted Helian Xue warmly, her tone full of concern. "The innkeeper said you traveled alone to Dianzhou—such a long journey, it couldn’t have been easy."
Helian Xue, who had never experienced much maternal affection, had been doted on by Yun Hui since her arrival at the inn.
Accepting the offered tea, she thanked her, warmth blooming in her chest.
"Young Lady Helian, you’re back!" Xue Guanhe peeked out from the back door. "What would you like to eat tonight? I’ll cook it for you."
Tiao walked in from outside, sizing her up briefly before nodding. "No injuries."
"Elder Sister Helian, I heard you took the people who harmed Senior Lin to the southwest. What happened then? How did Hall Master Aleshu deal with them?" Yue Shu chimed in, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
The innkeeper, Lu Jianwei, was the steady anchor of the Eight Directions Inn—strong and reliable—while the staff were lively and full of heart.
Helian Xue smiled sincerely. "Thank you for your concern. Chef Xue’s cooking is delicious—I’ll happily eat anything he prepares. Hall Master Aleshu didn’t kill them, but he drove them into a forest teeming with insects and snakes, forcing them to endure constant attacks. What ultimately became of them, I don’t know."
"That’s satisfying!" Yue Shu exclaimed indignantly. "It’s just a shame about Senior Lin."
Helian Xue nodded. "Is the innkeeper busy? Aleshu asked me to deliver a letter to her."
"Maybe wait until dinner?" Yue Shu suggested.
"That works." Helian Xue agreed, then asked, "Is there any work left to do around here?"
The others shook their heads.
The inn had already hired plenty of staff. Their responsibilities were now limited to the main courtyard, leaving little miscellaneous work.
Yan Feicang chopped the firewood, Xue Guanhe cooked the meals, Yue Shu swept the courtyard, Yun Hui and Uncle Zhang tidied the rooms, Liang Shangjun cleaned the stables—there really wasn’t anything left for Helian Xue to do.
Xue Guanhe offered a solution. "Young Lady Helian, just think of yourself as a brick—ready to be placed wherever needed."
"That’s perfect." Helian Xue accepted cheerfully.
During her previous stay at the inn, she had already learned how to handle all sorts of tasks—there was nothing she couldn’t do.
By dinnertime, the staff had all gathered in the main courtyard.
Ying Wumian was also present.
He had previously challenged Yan Feicang, staking all his possessions. After losing, he kept his word and was now penniless.
He couldn’t afford a room at the inn or meals in the dining hall, so he shamelessly came to mooch—first for food, then for lodging.
Lu Jianwei didn’t mind. As long as he was willing to work, everything was negotiable.
Uncle Zhang mentioned that Ying Wumian had a surprising talent for farming—his hoe skills were no worse than his swordsmanship.
After the meal, Helian Xue handed the letter to Lu Jianwei.
It contained only a few lines of gratitude, along with an invitation for Lu Jianwei to visit Dianzhou again when she had the chance.
Attached was a farewell poem, purportedly written in a burst of inspiration after seeing her off from Dada City the previous year.
Lu Jianwei wasn’t much of a poetry connoisseur. At a glance, it seemed touching, but the imagery was overly embellished—unrealistic.
She hadn’t seen any weeping willows in Dada City, let alone anyone breaking off willow branches for farewells.
Tucking the letter away, she asked, "Did you run into any trouble on the road?"
"Nothing I couldn’t handle," Helian Xue replied. Two months of traveling alone had broadened her horizons and brightened her demeanor. "I am, after all, a staff member of the Eight Directions Inn. I couldn’t afford to embarrass the establishment."
Lu Jianwei’s eyes warmed with amusement. "You’ve had a long journey. Rest for a few days."
"Alright." Helian Xue nodded. "I heard Younger Sister Shangguan is here too. I’ll go see her."
"Go ahead."
As dusk deepened, Lu Jianwei prepared to return to her room when a voice called out from behind.
"Innkeeper Lu."
It was Ying Wumian.
Since his first arrival at the inn, Lu Jianwei had never engaged him in direct conversation, nor had Ying Wumian ever initiated one.
She turned. "What is it?"
"Do you aspire to dominate the martial world?"
The question was bold, almost impudent. Lu Jianwei’s expression remained neutral, offering no reply.
"The Eight Directions Inn established its rules from the very beginning. You founded the Martial Assistance Alliance to cleanse the corrupt atmosphere of the martial world. You wish to establish a new order, don’t you?"
Lu Jianwei countered, "Did Mei Jiuyi’s words shake your resolve?"
Ying Wumian stiffened momentarily before clasping his hands. "Nothing escapes you, Innkeeper Lu. But I have no interest in the position of alliance leader."
"Then what are you trying to say?"
"If you seek to overturn the existing order, I am willing to serve you."
Lu Jianwei fell silent for a few breaths before chuckling. "Mei Jiuyi told you that your current contentment with farming is merely disillusionment—that if you truly wish to reform the martial world, you must claim the alliance leader’s seat for yourself. And he told Yan Feicang that I harbor grand ambitions, and that supporting me requires rallying others to my cause."
"Isn’t that what you’re doing—purifying the martial world’s atmosphere?"
"You’re not wrong. But the path you choose in life has nothing to do with me." Lu Jianwei’s smile faded. "You don’t need my permission."
Ying Wumian pressed on, "But you’re from a reclusive sect. Their rule forbids interference in the martial world. Now that members of the reclusive sects have come looking for you, if you return to your sect, what will become of the Eight Directions Inn?"
"How do you know about this?"
"I’ve met one of the elders."
"Which one?"
"The one who enjoys watching the stables being cleaned."
Lu Jianwei: "…"
The woman Liang Shangjun mentioned?
"You know her background?"
"The person I saved with ‘Gu Bai Tou’ was her junior."
Lu Jianwei thought: The world truly is small.
"I won’t be returning to the sect anytime soon. My master’s lineage isn’t bound by the rules of those reclusive sects."
"My apologies for overstepping."
"Why does this matter so much to you?"
Ying Wumian smiled faintly. "I simply believe a martial world free of bloodshed is a far more appealing place."
The next day, Liang Shangjun hauled a bucket of water to the stables, grunting as he shoveled manure. The purple-clad female guest appeared once more.
She watched with rapt fascination, not uttering a word, following him from one stable to the next.
After cleaning the last stable, Liang Shangjun couldn't take it anymore. Gripping the shovel, he asked, "What exactly do you want?"
The female guest smiled and said, "Nothing much. I just find it amusing."
Liang Shangjun leaned back slightly, brows furrowing.
Amusing?
Could she actually be interested in him?
"Well, if you find it so amusing, why not try it yourself?"
The woman shook her head. "These things are only fun when watching others do them. Besides..."
"Besides what?"
"Besides, you look just like your grandmother. Watching you is like watching her shovel manure—especially entertaining."
"You knew my grandmother?" Liang Shangjun was startled for a moment before correcting her, "Wait, no, I don’t look like my grandmother!"
The woman clarified, "Oh, I meant your maternal grandmother, by worldly conventions."
Liang Shangjun: "..."
Utterly baffled, he muttered, "Did you have some grudge against her?"
"No grudge." Her eyes curved with amusement. "But she was very strict. I was scolded by her many times. Seeing you lets me imagine her cleaning up horse dung."
Liang Shangjun: So he was just a stand-in for her resentment.
"How do you know who my grandmother is? What’s your relationship with her?"
"She was my mother."
The bucket and shovel clattered to the ground with a loud crash.
Liang Shangjun held his breath, eyes wide, utterly speechless.
This was… unexpected.
The woman’s smile deepened. "My name is Liang Feiluan. You and I once shared a mother-son bond."
Liang Shangjun froze for a few seconds before dropping the bucket and shovel, activating his qinggong, and darting straight back to the main courtyard. Spotting Lu Jianwei leisurely watering flowers, he felt as if he’d found his anchor.
"Boss! Someone’s trying to divide us from within!"
Lu Jianwei: "..."
The other staff: "..."
Liang Feiluan, who had followed him, burst into laughter, clutching her stomach and leaning against the doorframe, unable to straighten up for a long while.
"If I’d known you were this entertaining, I would’ve come out sooner." She tapped the doorframe. "Manager Lu, may I come in?"
"Please." Lu Jianwei gestured to Liang Shangjun. "Bring a chair."
Liang Shangjun grumbled, "Fine."
Once the chair was brought and tea served, Liang Feiluan took a sip and praised, "White Silk Fragrant Screen—what excellent tea. Everything in Manager Lu’s establishment is extraordinary."
Lu Jianwei smiled faintly. "Fine tea for distinguished guests. Since you share a past with one of my staff, I couldn’t possibly neglect courtesy."
"Manager Lu is truly kind-hearted, caring for your employees and even keeping an eye on the affairs of the martial world. With someone like you around, the jianghu is undoubtedly more stable."
Lu Jianwei waved it off. "Kindness is a stretch. I just don’t like bloodshed interfering with my profits."
"Hahaha! Manager Lu, you’re quite amusing too." Liang Feiluan wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "If not for my sect’s rules, I’d love to stay here as a staff member."
"A ninth-level Martial King as an employee? I’d welcome you with open arms."
Liang Feiluan set down her cup, her smile fading abruptly.
"Manager Lu, you’re a smart person. You must understand what I’m implying."
Lu Jianwei chuckled. "Martial King Liang, I’ve never broken any so-called rules. If your sect could truly uncover my origins, you wouldn’t be this indirect."
"Manager Lu, be honest with me—where do you really come from?"
Lu Jianwei straightened. "I’m not like any of you."
"I believe you." Liang Feiluan’s smile returned. "In that case, I won’t trouble you further."
Since the hidden sects couldn’t trace her background and outright conflict wasn’t an option, the matter ended here. Lu Jianwei was a ninth-level Martial King—not someone they could casually intimidate.
As Liang Feiluan turned to leave, she paused and glanced back. "That young man who hoes your fields—he once used ‘White as Old Age’ to save a child from my clan. That herb originally belonged to you, didn’t it?"
"Yes."
"Pity. The child is bound by clan rules and can’t stay with him forever."
Lu Jianwei raised a brow. "That’s your problem."
"Our clan raised her to be the next leader. During her travels, she intervened in a jianghu matter out of kindness and suffered grave injuries. After the clan healed her, how could we let her marry an outsider?"
Lu Jianwei countered, "But ‘White as Old Age’ saved her life."
"Exactly." Liang Feiluan sighed with a faint smile. "That boy learned to hoe fields at our place—he’s quite skilled. Now your inn gets to benefit."
Liang Shangjun couldn’t resist interjecting, "You’re the ones who cast him out. What’s the point of regretting it now?"
"Dai broke the rules and can never leave the sect again. I’m not her mother—I can’t decide for her." Liang Feiluan winked at him. "But if you’re willing, I could arrange for you two to—"
"No! Absolutely not!" Liang Shangjun waved his hands frantically. "I don’t want Ying Wumian chasing me with a hoe!"
Liang Feiluan shrugged. "Suit yourself."
She had no interest in meddling in the younger generation’s affairs and strode out of the courtyard.
Lu Jianwei, equally uninterested in her employees’ romantic entanglements, retreated to her room after seeing off the guest.
Xue Guanhe and the others exchanged glances, unanimously deciding to dig deeper into Ying Wumian’s love story.
They found him diligently weeding with his hoe.
Liang Shangjun cut straight to the chase. "Brother Ying, aren’t you going to fight for her?"
"Brother Liang, I don’t follow." Ying Wumian, dressed in coarse hemp clothes, was a far cry from the elegant chief disciple he once was, yet his dignified bearing remained.
"Brother Ying, we know everything," Yue Shu said. "Senior Liang—Liang Shangjun’s mother—told us about you and a young woman who couldn’t be together because of her clan’s rules."
Ying Wumian paused, then laughed softly. "That’s not quite it."
"It’s not?" Xue Guanhe frowned. "Then why aren’t you together?"
Ying Wumian leaned on his hoe, gazing at the vast sky.
"She has her dreams. I have my ambitions. I saved her because she once saved me."
"Your ambition is… hoeing fields?" Liang Shangjun rolled his eyes. "Stop pretending. Acting aloof won’t make you any handsomer."
Ying Wumian: "..."
"What are you all discussing?" Uncle Zhang passed by, smiling warmly. "Finished with your tasks?"
"Talking about Brother Ying’s love story," Yue Shu answered.
"Ah, youth." Uncle Zhang sighed wistfully before ambling away, hands behind his back.
On his way back to the main courtyard, a guest called out to him.
"Uncle Zhang, a moment, please."
Turning, he saw a well-mannered lodger and cupped his hands. "How may I assist you, honored guest?"
"No need for formality. I just have a few questions."
"Ask away."
"They say you and Young Master Yue were the first to arrive at the inn. When you first saw Manager Lu, what was your impression?"
Uncle Zhang stroked his beard, recalling that night. "Mysterious. Powerful."
"Back then, the inn had no staff. Did Manager Lu personally attend to you?"
"She saw that Yue Shu and I were hungry and kindly made us two bowls of noodle soup with greens and eggs, each with an egg added. After eating the noodles, I felt warmth spreading through my entire body."
"And how did you end up working at the inn?"
"Innkeeper Lu took pity on us when we had nowhere to go and kindly took us in."
"Innkeeper Lu truly is benevolent," the guest remarked with deep emotion.
Uncle Zhang nodded. "Naturally."
The inn's monitoring system relayed their conversation to Lu Jianwei.
"I seem to recall they initially complained about the prices," Lu Jianwei sighed helplessly. "The passage of time really distorts memories."
The system replied, "When you hold a high position, every past action of yours becomes haloed in glory. Moreover, in the eyes of Uncle Zhang and Yue Shu, you truly were their savior."
"I never wanted to be anyone's savior," Lu Jianwei stretched lazily. "That Wan Cong keeps snooping around all day, treating my inn like a teahouse."
The system said, "He paid for his stay. We can't exactly tell him to shut up."
"Uncle Zhang is getting old, Yun Hui needs more time to train, and the other staff are too busy to handle accounts. That Wan Cong is sharp—he’d probably make a great accountant."
"He’s an eighth-level Martial King. He might not be willing to work as your bookkeeper."
"Mei Jiuyi is a quasi-Grandmaster, yet he stays at the inn every day. What do you think he’s after?"
The system quipped, "I know this one—to test his theories on human nature and uncover the secrets of your sect."
"Exactly. A mysterious sect is like a dangling carrot. Once they exhaust all their resources and still can’t uncover the truth, they’ll have no choice but to stay at the inn and keep searching."
"Fair point."
Members of the hidden sects came and went.
Wan Cong couldn’t bear to leave. As the renowned "Know-It-All" of the world, how could he call himself that if he couldn’t even uncover Innkeeper Lu’s origins?
He paid a monthly rent of five hundred taels and stayed in the courtyard for three months.
Three months—and not a single clue.
Continuing like this would only mean lining Lu Jianwei’s pockets.
Maybe it was time to give up?
Dejected, he packed his belongings, ready to leave this place of disappointment, when Uncle Zhang suddenly approached and invited him to the main courtyard for a talk.
Confused, Wan Cong followed, his bag still slung over his shoulder.
As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw Innkeeper Lu watering the flowers by the garden.
He clasped his hands in greeting. "What instructions does Innkeeper Lu have for me?"
Lu Jianwei set down the watering can and asked, "So the 'Know-It-All' is giving up?"
Wan Cong: "..."
"I’ll give you a chance to uncover the truth," Lu Jianwei said casually. "Do you dare take it?"
"There’s nothing I wouldn’t dare," Wan Cong regained his confidence. "But I’d like to know—I wasn’t wearing my round-faced mask. How did you recognize me among all the guests?"
"Is it really that hard?"
"..." Wan Cong took a deep breath and decided to drop the question. "What is this opportunity you speak of?"
Lu Jianwei smiled. "The inn still needs an accountant."
Wan Cong: Being an accountant would give him access to the inn’s core operations—but he had no idea how to keep books!
"If you’re unwilling..."
"I am! I accept!"
Autumn turned to winter, and a biting wind howled outside, whipping snowflakes through the air.
Lu Jianwei practiced calligraphy in her room when she suddenly sensed a familiar presence.
"Young Master Pei is back!"
Yue Shu’s delighted voice rang out, followed by Xue Guanhe and A'Nai’s unique way of greeting each other—mutual teasing.
"You’ve gotten darker after all these months."
"Look who’s talking—your martial skills haven’t improved much."
"That’s not true! The innkeeper said I’ve made progress!"
"Innkeeper Lu’s standards for you are too low. If it were up to me, you should—"
A door on the third floor opened, and A'Nai immediately cut himself off, dragging the indignant Xue Guanhe away to the backyard.
Lu Jianwei leaned against the railing, gazing at the tall, elegant young man in the courtyard. With a smile, she asked, "It’s snowing. Care for some hotpot?"
Pei Zhi looked up as delicate snowflakes landed on his warm brows, melting slowly.
"It would be my honor."
Five years later.
Leaden clouds stretched across the sky, casting everything in a dull gray. A westerly wind carried goose-feather snowflakes, dusting the horses’ heads.
"It’s snowing," Lu Jianwei sighed, gazing into the distance. "Looks like we won’t make it back today."
Pei Zhi said, "There’s an old abandoned temple not far ahead. Shall we make do for the night?"
"Fine by me."
They spurred their horses forward and soon arrived at the temple.
Tracks littered the snow outside—clearly, others were already inside.
The sound of hooves startled the occupants, and the lively chatter inside abruptly ceased.
After tethering their horses, they tried pushing the temple doors, but they wouldn’t budge.
Pei Zhi knocked. No response.
Lu Jianwei’s senses told her there were fifteen people inside, mostly fourth- or fifth-level martial artists, with a few weaker Martial Apprentices.
They held their breath, refusing to answer or open the door.
"Ah, no one’s opening up. If we can’t get in, we’ll have to camp in the wild," Lu Jianwei mused, her tone feigning distress though her lips curled in amusement. "What if we run into bandits or wild beasts? We might lose the treasures we worked so hard to find."
Pei Zhi played along smoothly. "Should we ride through the night to Fengzhou? Even if we can’t enter the city, we could stay at the Eight Directions Inn."
"I suppose that’s our only option."
They pretended to leave, and the door creaked open. A head poked out, scrutinizing them. Seeing they were young, unremarkable in appearance, and lacking any obvious martial aura, the observer relaxed slightly, growing dismissive.
"Who are you?"
Pei Zhi replied, "Travelers passing through."
"Hey, what’s with the attitude? I’m asking you—"
"Quit wasting time!" a rough voice interrupted. "Let them in."
"Right away."
The gates swung open, and Lu Jianwei and Pei Zhi strode into the temple’s main hall.
Inside, over a dozen armed men encircled two figures—a pale, bloodied young woman around seventeen or eighteen, and a boy of thirteen or fourteen, also wounded and bleeding.
A dozen against two—what an unsightly sight.
The hall’s occupants stared at the newcomers. While the two injured youths wore complicated expressions, the rest looked on with amusement.
Their leader was a scar-faced man, the mark stretching from his forehead across his left eye to his ear. His face was rough, his eyes contemptuous.
"What’s this 'treasure' you mentioned outside?"
Lu Jianwei raised a brow. "Are you asking us?"
"Stop playing dumb!" a lackey beside Scarface barked. "Answer whatever the boss asks!"
Pei Zhi raised a hand. Before anyone could react, his internal energy struck the man’s pressure point, silencing him.
The hall fell quiet except for the crackling fire.
Lu Jianwei drew her sword, its tip resting against Scarface’s throat. Smiling, she said, "I’ll ask the questions now. You answer. Understood?"
Before the might of a ninth-level Martial King, Scarface’s resistance was as futile as an ant trying to shake a tree.
He dropped to his knees with a thud, his face trembling.
"Y-yes, Elder. Ask away."
Lu Jianwei: "Who are they? Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
"I… I…"
"Manager Lu!" The young girl suddenly dropped to her knees, tugging the boy down with her. "You must be Manager Lu, right?!"
The scar-faced man's underlings involuntarily took a few steps back before lowering their weapons and kneeling, trembling like leaves in the wind.
Slap! After a stunned pause, the scar-faced man harshly slapped himself. "This lowly one has eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai! I didn’t realize Manager Lu had graced us with your presence—I deserve ten thousand deaths!"
Lu Jianwei sighed inwardly. These days, traveling incognito through the martial world was becoming harder and harder.
For the past five years, she and Pei Zhi had roamed the rivers and lakes, earning money while righting wrongs and saving countless people along the way. Even with different disguises, they were often recognized.
Over time, the martial world had come to know that Manager Lu and Young Master Pei had a penchant for chivalry—so no one should be surprised to see them anywhere.
But the two had one habit: every winter, before the first snowfall, they would return to the Eight Directions Inn in Fengzhou to reunite with their staff.
This place was close to Fengzhou, and with winter snow already falling, any skilled martial artist appearing here at this time was likely to be Manager Lu and Young Master Pei.
The girl wasn’t entirely certain, but that didn’t stop her from borrowing Manager Lu’s formidable reputation.
If it wasn’t them, she could still bluff her way out. If it was them, then heaven had truly sent her saviors.
"Explain yourselves," Lu Jianwei said lazily, sheathing her sword and looking down at the scar-faced man.
The man wailed, "Manager Lu, this lowly one was just passing through for shelter—I never meant to harm anyone, I swear—"
"Save your excuses for the prison interrogators," Lu Jianwei cut him off, then turned to the girl. "And who are you two?"
"I am Lu Xin, daughter of the Lu Family in Anzhou. This is my younger brother, Lu Hao. Manager Lu, my parents were murdered, and my brother and I barely escaped. We were trying to seek help from the alliance but nearly got assassinated. If I hadn’t learned some disguise techniques and hidden us along the way, we would’ve…" The girl’s voice broke as tears fell, her eyes red. "Manager Lu, we fled all the way to Fengzhou in hopes that you would bring justice for my family."
Lu Jianwei asked, "What about them?"
"I don’t know. My brother and I were injured, and with the snow falling, we took shelter in this abandoned temple. Then they suddenly barged in, demanding some ‘treasure’ from us. We thought they were assassins sent by our enemies."
"Wronged! So wronged, Manager Lu!" The scar-faced man was filled with regret. "I don’t even know them! I just saw how nervous they looked and thought I could scare them into giving up valuables. But before I got anything, you showed up."
What rotten luck—not a single coin gained, and now he’d fallen into Manager Lu’s hands.
Ever since the Martial Aid Alliance was established, more and more warriors had taken to chivalry, forcing bandits like him to target desperate, fleeing people instead. frёewebnoѵēl.com
Being a bandit these days was hard.
Lu Jianwei retrieved a small bottle from her sleeve and tossed it to Lu Xin.
"Tend to your brother’s wounds first."
Everyone knew Manager Lu’s medical skills were unparalleled. Even a simple wound-healing ointment from her could fetch an exorbitant price on the market.
Not because she sold it at a high price, but because her medicines were exceedingly rare—demand far outstripped supply.
Fortunately, the Eight Directions Inn had trained many physicians, with Yun Hui being the most outstanding among them.
Outside physicians who came to study at the inn were never turned away, and the overall medical skills of martial healers had greatly improved as a result.
Lu Xin cradled the porcelain bottle as if it were a priceless treasure, her eyes brimming with gratitude.
"Thank you, Manager Lu, for your generosity!"
---
Eight Directions Inn
Xue Guanhe and the others huddled around a table, eagerly staring out into the courtyard. But as night fell, there was still no sign of their manager.
"Perhaps the snow delayed them," Uncle Zhang mused, holding a teapot under the eaves. "They’ll likely return tomorrow."
Xue Guanhe sighed. "I just mastered a new blade technique a few days ago. I wanted to show Manager Lu and ask for her guidance."
"More like fishing for praise," A'Nai scoffed, arms crossed. "Even Yue Shu didn’t brag this much when he reached the fifth rank."
Xue Guanhe shot back, "He didn’t brag? He was so excited he redesigned all the inn’s formations!"
Yue Shu: "…"
Must you drag me into your arguments?
"Where are Brother Yan and the others?" Helian Xue asked softly.
Liang Shangjun vaulted over the courtyard wall and slipped into the hall. Hearing the question, he answered offhandedly, "Yan Feicang and Ying Wumian are sparring at the training grounds. That old man Mei is there too."
"He’s still at it?" Xue Guanhe groaned. "Five years, and he hasn’t given up on convincing us to ‘unify the martial world’?"
Tiao muttered, "Delusional."
"After being repeatedly shut down by Manager Lu, he’s turned to us—and among us, only Brother Yan and Brother Ying meet his standards."
Uncle Zhang chuckled. "Old Mei is nothing if not persistent. Still, having a quasi-grandmaster like him around to instruct in martial techniques does lighten Manager Lu’s load."
"True enough."
"Manager Lu really played this well," Wan Cong remarked as he strode in, shaking snow from his robes and carrying account books. "Not only does she have a near-legendary master overseeing martial training at the inn, but she’s also got the world’s best blacksmith forging weapons. Meanwhile, she gallivants around the martial world with Young Master Pei, living the carefree life."
Yue Shu defended, "Manager Lu is out there upholding justice."
Wan Cong waved a hand. "Fine, fine. I won’t argue with you."
---
Courtyard of the Inn
Xu Sanzuo lounged in a rocking chair, lazily sipping from a gourd. "Still haven’t given up?"
"Why should I?" Mei Jiuyi gazed into the snowstorm beyond the courtyard. "I have yet to fully decipher Manager Lu."
Xu Sanzuo snorted. "In my opinion, Manager Lu has no such ambitions. She’s already at the peak of the ninth rank—if she wanted to unify the martial world, she would’ve done it by now. Stop wasting your time."
"I know."
"Then why keep obsessing?"
A trace of unwillingness flickered in Mei Jiuyi’s eyes.
"Unifying the martial world is just one manifestation of ambition. I simply refuse to believe that after decades of being placed at the pinnacle of the martial world, after reaching a point where a single thought from her could decide life and death, she would remain unchanged. Even if it’s not unification, it’ll be something else."
"…"
"You don’t believe it either, do you?"
Xu Sanzuo smirked. "So what? You won’t live to see it anyway."
"Why not?"
"You’re decades older than her. How many years do you have left?"
Mei Jiuyi: "…"
"Speechless, eh?" Xu Sanzuo grinned triumphantly. "Let go of your obsession. Even if Manager Lu were to change, it’d take decades."
Mei Jiuyi chuckled softly. "We’ll see."
He was confident that if he lived long enough, he would witness the day Lu Jianwei succumbed to the allure of power.
But even as he approached the end of his life, Lu Jianwei remained unchanged.
He died with his eyes wide open, heart full of resentment.
By then, Manager Lu had already become a legend of the martial world—still wandering the rivers and lakes with her beloved Pei Zhi, her presence felt everywhere, her stories told in every corner.
Decades passed, and the martial world saw fewer and fewer cases of indiscriminate slaughter. The culture had truly shifted.
Gradually, Manager Lu’s figure faded from the martial world. Rumors said she had chosen a serene, picturesque place to live out her days with Pei Zhi, like immortals in love.
