No Fighting Allowed in the Inn

The courtyard gate of the inn stood wide open.

Lu Jianwei returned to the counter, where the scene outside was clearly visible.

A horse and a carriage had just halted beyond the courtyard.

The horse was remarkably majestic, and its rider wore sleek black attire, his tall and straight figure exuding an air of elegance. His strikingly handsome face was impossible to ignore.

Tossing the reins aside, he dismounted with practiced ease. A delicate golden dagger, no longer than an inch and unsharpened, swayed at his waist, its polished surface glinting brilliantly in the light.

Just as Xue Guanhe stepped forward to greet him, the man strode confidently into the courtyard, calling out in a hearty voice, "Yan Feicang! Brother Yan! Come out and meet me!"

The moment the words left his lips, a towering figure emerged, gripping a sword with clear annoyance. His tone was barely polite. "What brings you here?"

The unspoken implication: *You’ve interrupted my sword practice.*

The man laughed heartily. "Not just me—Brother Wen is here too."

The carriage outside was a sight to behold. Even the horses pulling it were rare, purebred Hequ steeds—sturdy, calm, and renowned for their endurance, perfectly suited for heavy loads.

The carriage itself was spacious, easily accommodating four or five people. Crafted from precious red sandalwood, its roof was adorned with intricate carvings, exuding refined elegance. The curtains were made of the finest silk, embroidered with elaborate patterns that shimmered under the sunlight, threaded with gold and silver.

A young attendant in simple clothing nimbly hopped down from the driver’s seat and pressed a hidden mechanism on the side of the carriage.

To the astonishment of onlookers, the carriage wall split into three sections, the central one sliding open to reveal a lavishly decorated interior.

Yue Shu, who had rushed over to gawk, gaped like a country bumpkin. "A carriage can be built like this?!"

Yan Feicang snorted, arms crossed over his sword. "Still as flashy as ever."

"Ah, Brother Yan, you exaggerate," the man said with a booming laugh. "Brother Wen has difficulty moving, so this is necessary."

As the door opened, the attendant pulled out a smooth ramp from beneath the carriage—its surface gilded with intricate patterns, so opulent it was almost blinding.

One end of the ramp fixed to the carriage floor while the other touched the ground, forming a gentle slope.

"Young Master, you may disembark now," the attendant said respectfully, turning toward the interior.

The inn’s occupants watched with undisguised curiosity.

Lu Jianwei was no exception. The moment she laid eyes on the extravagant carriage and its ostentatious display, she saw nothing but piles of gold ingots.

Her mind raced with countless plans to—*ahem*—conduct business.

Uncle Zhang, older and more composed, didn’t join the younger crowd in the courtyard. Instead, he stood quietly beside the counter and whispered to Lu Jianwei,

"The one with the golden dagger at his waist, in his early twenties, is Jin Poxiao, the young master of the Golden Blade Trading Company. Rumor has it he has a close friend—the wealthiest man in Jiangnan, with a penchant for extravagance."

Lu Jianwei’s eyes gleamed. *This inn needs precisely such lavish guests.*

And then, the wealthy guest finally moved.

A wheelchair slowly rolled toward the carriage door.

The crowd: ???

No matter how exquisitely crafted the wheelchair was—adorned with gold and jade, its design ingenious—nor how dignified its occupant appeared, it couldn’t dispel their collective disappointment.

*What a pity. A man of immense fortune, yet confined to a wheelchair.*

Lu Jianwei, however, harbored no such thoughts. In her mind, money trumped all. A person this wealthy might rely on a wheelchair, but he undoubtedly lived a far more comfortable life than most in this era.

With riches like his, sympathy was unnecessary.

If she pitied someone like him, wouldn’t she have to pity the entire world?

*"Xiao Ke, is this the ‘strange person’ you mentioned?"*

Xiao Ke: *"Earlier, when assessing his level, the readings kept fluctuating."*

*"And now?"*

*"Confirmed—Level Three."*

Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow, her gaze settling on the wheelchair-bound magnate.

His moon-white robes were woven from the finest cloud-patterned brocade, the cuffs and collar trimmed with gold thread. A jade pendant hung from his waist—its lustrous sheen marked it as top-grade *qinghua* jade, worth a thousand taels of silver.

His entire outfit was the equivalent of a luxurious three-courtyard estate.

Seated in the wheelchair, he held a jade flute horizontally across his lap as he descended the ramp. Once settled, he lifted his head and regarded the crowd.

Though not breathtakingly handsome, his features were refined, his skin smooth but pale, his lips faintly colored—a clear indication of frailty.

"Brother Yan, it’s been a while."

He addressed Yan Feicang with a warm smile, his voice gentle and cultured.

Yan Feicang frowned. "Weren’t you seeking medicine at Ghost Mist Ridge? Did you not find it?"

"Why must you bring up such a sore subject?" the young attendant, A'Nai, huffed. "We *did* obtain the medicine, but it was useless for the Young Master. Must you rub salt in the wound?"

"A'Nai," the man chided lightly. "Brother Yan is merely concerned for me."

"More like he enjoys twisting the knife."

"He’s just awkward in expressing himself. Be patient with him."

"Fine. I’ll reluctantly forgive him."

Yan Feicang: "..."

*Did they think he couldn’t tell they were mocking him in tandem?*

"Hmph. I won’t waste words arguing with a brat."

A'Nai bristled, ready to retort.

Jin Poxiao laughed heartily. "Enough bickering! It’s been too long since we last met. Let’s secure rooms first, then catch up. Brother Yan, has your swordsmanship improved?"

Yan Feicang patted his scabbard. "Test me and see."

He led the trio toward the main hall.

"Ah, what does this sign mean?" A'Nai asked, pointing at the vertical placard beside the entrance as he pushed the wheelchair.

Jin Poxiao read aloud: "'No brawling within the inn.' A rule set by the proprietor? How amusing."

"What happens if someone brawls anyway?" A'Nai inquired.

Yan Feicang replied dryly, "You needn’t worry. With your pitiful skills, you’d never be in a fight."

A'Nai shot back, "And your swordsmanship isn’t so impressive either! We heard all about it on the road—how you were exposed for your flawed technique the moment you arrived. Some ‘number one bladesman’ you are. Embarrassing."

"..."

Yan Feicang didn’t respond. They had reached the counter, where Lu Jianwei—the very innkeeper who had pointed out his weaknesses—stood waiting.

Today, the innkeeper had changed into a new outfit: a vibrant orange-yellow dress, her makeup bright and charming, even adorned with a delicate floral *huadian* on her forehead. Her warm smile and gentle voice completed the picture of refined beauty.

She greeted them warmly. "Honored guests, will you be staying with us?"

"I am Jin Poxiao of the Golden Blade Trading Company," the man announced without preamble. "Manager Lu, it’s a pleasure. My company’s caravan previously offended you, and I must thank you for your magnanimity."

"So, it’s Young Master Jin! Your reputation precedes you. You’re too kind."

Jin Poxiao laughed. "Manager Lu, you truly are direct. Truth be told, it was only after my caravan reported back that I learned of such a hidden gem in the martial world. Even Brother Yan rushed here upon hearing the news, eager to test his skills. Manager Lu, I apologize if he’s been a nuisance."

*What nonsense.* This place was remote, devoid of scenic beauty—hardly a "hidden gem."

Truly, the heir of a major trading company knew how to spin tales.

Lu Jianwei’s smile remained unshaken. "Yan Feicang, since these are your friends, you may attend to them."

Yan Feicang: "..."

*Right. He was an inn employee now.*

"If you want rooms, just say so. Upper rooms are five taels a night, standard rooms five hundred *wen*, and shared bunks one hundred *wen*. Take your pick."

Jin Poxiao’s eyes widened in shock. *What in the—?!*

A'Nai blurted out, "Blademaster Yan, you’re really... working here as a servant? Hahahaha!"

"Is it true?" Jin Poxiao asked—not about the employment, but the rumors of Yan Feicang’s flawed technique.

Yan Feicang was a proud man by nature. Unless he genuinely admired someone, he would never show such deference. The fact that he obeyed Lu Jianwei proved that the rumors might not just be rumors after all.

Yan Feicang gave a slight nod.

There was nothing to deny. In martial arts, those with superior skill deserved respect, and he held no reluctance in acknowledging that.

Jin Poxiao glanced at Lu Jianwei, unable to suppress his admiration.

She appeared to be nothing more than a beautiful, delicate woman, yet she had effortlessly exposed Yan Feicang’s weakness.

The Eight Directions Inn truly lived up to its extraordinary reputation—no wonder it had repelled an assault by a hundred men without breaking a sweat.

“I still have to practice my blade techniques. Hurry up and decide,” Yan Feicang said impatiently.

Jin Poxiao turned his head and asked, “Brother Wen, what’s your choice?”

“I am Wen Zhuzhi. May I ask, Innkeeper Lu, where are your premium rooms located?”

Faced with the wealthy wheelchair-bound man’s inquiry, Lu Jianwei responded with patience.

“We have only two premium rooms, on the east and west sides of the third floor. The standard rooms are on the second floor, with five currently available. As for the common bunks, there are three rooms to the left outside, all unoccupied.”

“The third floor… that’s hardly convenient,” A'Nai muttered under his breath. “Young Master, perhaps we should find an inn in the city instead.”

Wen Zhuzhi rubbed his jade flute gently. “I’m tired.”

A'Nai’s face immediately softened with concern. “Then we’ll stay here and rest. We can head to Moonview City once you’ve recovered.”

“Innkeeper Lu, I’d like to reserve all three common bunk rooms. Would that be possible?” Wen Zhuzhi asked.

A'Nai objected at once. “Common bunks? Those are for laborers and travelers—they must be filthy.”

“They’re clean,” Yan Feicang interjected. “All this dithering is a waste of time.”

Jin Poxiao chuckled. “Then let’s take the bunks. The rooms are spacious, and the beds are wide. Perfect. Brother Wen, if you’re reserving three, spare me one.”

“Agreed.” Wen Zhuzhi’s tone was effortlessly generous. “Book them for a month. A'Nai, pay up.”

Grumbling, A'Nai pulled out a money pouch. “How much?”

Lu Jianwei smiled warmly. “Common bunks cost a hundred coins per person per night. Each room can accommodate ten people. Renting one room costs a thousand coins per day, three rooms three thousand coins. For a month—ninety taels of silver.”

Truly, the wealthy were in a league of their own when it came to spending.

A'Nai’s eyes widened. “For common bunks? How can they be this expensive?!”

“A'Nai.” Wen Zhuzhi’s voice carried a hint of weariness.

“Yes, Young Master. I’ll handle it.” A'Nai produced a hundred-tael silver note without hesitation. “Keep the change. Consider the extra ten taels a deposit.”

With that, he pushed the wheelchair out the door, effortlessly lifting it over the threshold—his strength was clearly nothing to scoff at.

To the left stood three adjoining rooms. The inn was newly built, and these quarters had seen little use, so the furnishings—tables, chairs, and beds—were practically brand new. The bedding was soft and warm.

A'Nai chose the middle room and wheeled Wen Zhuzhi inside. After surveying the space, his initial reluctance eased slightly.

“Not bad. Looks clean enough.” He guided the wheelchair to the window and opened it. “Young Master, you can read here for a while. I’ll tidy up.”

The carriage had already been led into the courtyard. A'Nai hurried outside, lugging two heavy trunks from the carriage.

From one, he retrieved a book and handed it to Wen Zhuzhi.

The latter accepted it with a faint smile, leaning against the window as he leisurely flipped through the pages.

“Young Master Wen, I’ve brought tea.” Yue Shu stood at the doorway, holding a tray.

Wen Zhuzhi: “Please, come in.”

“Wait.” A'Nai stopped Yue Shu, lifting the teapot lid and waving a hand over the steam. He frowned. “What kind of tea is this?”

Yue Shu blinked. “Just… regular tea?”

“Does the inn not have fine tea? My Young Master drinks only the highest quality. Bring us something better.”

Yue Shu: “…”

He had once lived comfortably, but even he had never been this particular.

His gaze drifted to the table, where a delicately carved crane-patterned incense burner, a set of celadon teacups, and a gold-trimmed black lacquer box were neatly arranged—all brought by the visitors.

Even while traveling, their standards remained impeccable.

Yue Shu suddenly felt woefully inexperienced.

Without thinking, he asked, “Why didn’t you bring your own fine tea?”

A'Nai: ???

What kind of inn was this? Overpriced, and now the staff had the audacity to be rude?

“We left in haste and didn’t prepare thoroughly.” A gentle voice smoothed over the tension. “My attendant is overly protective. Please forgive him, young man.”

Yue Shu’s irritation melted away.

“Young Master Wen, please wait. I’ll ask the innkeeper.”

He carried the tea back to the main hall.

“Yue Shu, why’d you bring the tea back?” Xue Guanhe asked curiously.

“Young Master Wen doesn’t care for this blend. A'Nai demanded the finest tea, so I’m checking with the innkeeper.”

“That’s what you’d expect from a tycoon—nothing but the best.” Xue Guanhe sighed. “Though that A'Nai fellow seems rather ill-tempered.”

Yue Shu nodded emphatically. “True, but Young Master Wen is quite amiable. Soft-spoken, no arrogance at all.”

“That’s good. The innkeeper’s in her room—you can ask her upstairs.”

Third floor.

Lu Jianwei opened the system marketplace.

She had heard every word from A'Nai. The wheelchair-bound magnate had style, and even his attendant was finding ways to pour money into her hands.

Qingta, Baichouxiang, and Xi’emei were among the finest teas in the Qi Dynasty, second only to imperial tributes. In the marketplace, they sold for five thousand coins per tael.

But in this world, tea of such caliber was exceedingly rare and exorbitantly priced, typically reserved for nobility. Even wealthy merchants seldom had the connections to procure it.

Yue Shu arrived outside her door. “Innkeeper, Young Master Wen is accustomed to premium tea. He’s asking if the inn can provide some.”

“Go ask what kind he wants,” Lu Jianwei replied.

Yue Shu hurried back down.

The common bunk rooms, though meant for ten, were spacious—just furnished with plain, utilitarian items.

A'Nai had replaced them with exquisite personal belongings, transforming the space entirely. A gilded bronze incense burner now emitted a delicate, soothing fragrance.

Yue Shu lingered at the door, breathing in the scent.

“Young Master Wen, the innkeeper sent me to ask—what tea do you prefer?”

“Prefer?” A'Nai yanked the door open, scowling. “Just bring the best tea you have. Do you really think a backwater place like this stocks anything worthy of my Young Master’s palate?”

Yue Shu bristled. First, they demanded premium tea, and now they looked down on the inn? Make up your mind!

“How do you know we don’t have it?”

If the innkeeper could casually produce treasured swords and martial techniques, what was tea compared to that?

A'Nai scoffed. “My Young Master favors Baichouxiang. Do you even know how much an ounce costs? Do you know how rare it is?”

Yue Shu had to admit he didn’t.

Though he had grown up in White Crane Manor, a place of some wealth, it paled next to the fortunes of true elites. His knowledge had its limits.

“Baichouxiang, is it? Just wait.”

He turned on his heel and dashed off.

A'Nai leaned against the doorframe, watching him disappear into the hall. He turned back. “Young Master, do you really think this inn has top-tier tea?”

Wen Zhuzhi hummed. “No harm in asking. If they don’t, it’s expected. If they do… a pleasant surprise.”

“Fair enough.” A'Nai busied himself unpacking. “Young Master, this place is so remote, and the journey was so long. You’ve endured too much.”

Wen Zhuzhi replied softly, “It’s fine.”

“Let’s hope this trip isn’t for nothing.” A'Nai continued muttering until another knock came.

Yue Shu stood at the door, holding a white porcelain jar, chin lifted proudly.

“The innkeeper says—Baichouxiang, one jar. One hundred taels.”

“Just this? This can’t even weigh a catty, can it? A hundred taels—you’re practically robbing me!” A’Nai scoffed in disbelief. “This tea isn’t easy to come by. You’re not trying to pass off a fake, are you?”

Yue Shu retorted angrily, “If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.”

“A’Nai, why are you arguing with the staff?” Jin Poxiao emerged from the neighboring room. “Did I just hear ‘White Silk Fragrant Screen’? Or was I mistaken?”

A’Nai crossed his arms. “My young master can’t stomach any other tea. I thought we’d have to make do in this backwater, but this little clerk here claims to have a jar of White Silk Fragrant Screen.”

“You’re being unreasonable! You were the one who complained about the tea and demanded the finest. I brought it out, and now you accuse me of selling fakes? That’s going too far!”

“Easy there, young man.” Jin Poxiao stepped in as the peacemaker. “Don’t blame A’Nai for being suspicious. He’s gone to great lengths to ensure his young master’s comfort on this journey and has been swindled more than once. A’Nai, you too—does Shopkeeper Lu strike you as the kind to peddle counterfeits? You ought to rein in that temper of yours.”

Then, he called toward the doorway, “Brother Wen, your boy’s picking fights again. Aren’t you going to intervene?”

Wen Zhuzhi wheeled himself over in his chair, his eyes brimming with resignation.

“His temper has always been like this. No matter how many times I’ve tried to correct him, it never sticks. I named him ‘A’Nai’ in hopes he’d learn patience.”

“Hah! So much for the power of a name. A’Nai’s as loud and brash as ever.” Jin Poxiao gestured to the white porcelain jar. “Whether it’s genuine or not, one whiff will tell.”

Wen Zhuzhi raised a hand. “Young man, A’Nai has a fiery disposition. Allow me to apologize on his behalf. May I inspect the tea first?”

Yue Shu handed it over, chagrined. “I lost my temper too. Go ahead.”

The tea jar felt smooth as satin to the touch, far from ordinary. As Wen Zhuzhi cracked the lid open, an ethereal fragrance unfurled, crisp and clarifying to the senses.

Snapping the lid shut, Wen Zhuzhi smiled, his eyes warm. “It is indeed White Silk Fragrant Screen, and of exceptional quality at that. A hundred taels is a bargain—I’m the one gaining here.”

Yue Shu shot A’Nai a pointed glance.

“A’Nai, you misjudged the young man. What do you say?” Wen Zhuzhi prompted.

Polite, measured, and fair—Yue Shu’s regard for him grew even stronger.

“A simple misunderstanding, nothing serious.”

A’Nai bowed his head in contrition. “I was wrong to doubt you. My apologies. Here’s the hundred taels for the tea—take it.”

He pressed the silver into Yue Shu’s hand.

With payment accepted, Yue Shu’s earlier irritation melted away.

“Young Master Wen, Young Master Jin, I’ll take my leave now.”

He hurried off to log the transaction at the counter, where he ran into Uncle Zhang and recounted the incident.

After a moment’s thought, Uncle Zhang headed upstairs to the third floor.

“Shopkeeper, I have something to report.”

“Come in.”

Lu Jianwei was wallowing in regret.

Overhearing the exchange between Wen Zhuzhi and his servant, she realized she’d undersold the tea. Such a rare commodity could’ve fetched a far higher price.

Her lack of vision shamed her.

“What is it?” she asked, listless.

Uncle Zhang lowered his voice. “Shopkeeper, though the new guests weren’t involved in last night’s attack, their purpose here may not be so simple.”

Within the inn, Lu Jianwei reigned supreme. No conversation escaped her ears, yet she could veil her own words at will.

She replied, “Given the timing, booking a month’s stay, they’re undoubtedly here for the so-called treasure. Still, their conduct is forthright—no underhandedness. Treat them as ordinary guests.”

“But Shopkeeper, they might also be probing the inn’s backers…”

Lu Jianwei waved it off. “It’s just a jar of tea.”

Purchased from the system’s marketplace, no less. Tracing her “hidden influence” through tea leaves? Impossible.

Reassured, Uncle Zhang conceded, “Your foresight is unmatched. I worried needlessly.”

Lu Jianwei deflected the praise. “What do you know of this Young Master Wen?”

“Only rumors, and few at that.”

“Share them.”

Uncle Zhang obliged. “They say he was poisoned as a child and spent years seeking a cure, remaining out of sight until his father’s passing forced him to take the helm of their vast estate. Generous and principled, he’s befriended many despite his ailment—Young Master Jin and the Great Xia Yan among them.”

“His martial prowess?”

“The venom clogged his meridians, stunting his inner energy for years. Wherever word of an antidote surfaces, he pursues it personally, squandering fortunes in the process.”

“Antidotes?” Lu Jianwei arched a brow. “So he’s here because the treasure supposedly holds a cure?”

Uncle Zhang nodded. “Most likely.”

Something nagged at her. “Isn’t that too convenient?”

“How so?”

“If Lü and Cao truly spread those rumors, why embellish beyond the treasure map? Why add tales of miracle cures?”

Uncle Zhang pondered. “In the martial world, men chase three things: mastery, riches, and salvation. Perhaps they thought it’d draw more prey.”

Lu Jianwei mused, “Possibly.”

She shifted topics. “How fares your palm technique?”

A smile broke through. “This humble one has grasped the third form. The Rippling Palm is profound indeed.”

Decades of discipline had honed his insight—else he’d never have progressed so swiftly.

Lu Jianwei grinned. “Good. You may go.”

Once alone, she addressed her system: “Xiao Ke, when you scanned Wen Zhuzhi earlier, his fluctuating levels—was that the poison?”

Xiao Ke confirmed, “Likely.”

“Can you identify the toxin?”

“Don’t try dodging the scan fee with reverse psychology.”

Lu Jianwei sighed. “Fine. How much?”

“A hundred taels.”

“…Highway robbery.”

Xiao Ke dangled a carrot. “You know how deep Wen Zhuzhi’s coffers run. A single jade ornament of his outweighs your entire net worth. Cure him, and his gratitude will dwarf petty sums like this.”

“Nice try.” She wasn’t born yesterday. “If it were that easy, he’d have been healed centuries ago.”

Xiao Ke pressed, “The system marketplace sells antidotes.”

“Really?”

“Scan him and find out.”

“Pfft.”

Lu Jianwei stood firm. This was a ploy to drain her funds—things couldn’t be so straightforward.

If every remedy were purchasable, why had the system pushed her to study the *Spring and Autumn Pharmacopoeia*?

Just to fleece her?

Earlier, while buying tea, she’d noticed luxury items in the marketplace came with purchase limits—White Silk Fragrant Screen capped at five jars a year.

Likely a balancing mechanism.

Everyday goods like clothing and jewelry, though stylish, faced no such restrictions, as their craftsmanship didn’t exceed the era’s technology.

The system had boundaries. Over-reliance was folly; true strength came from within.

“Well? Scanning or not?” Xiao Ke badgered.

Lu Jianwei replied with an icy expression, "No need to test it anymore. I’ve suddenly lost interest."

Xiao Ke: "……" :,,.