No Fighting Allowed in the Inn

◎The Yi Tribe Picks a Fight, White Hair, and an Invitation to the Gu God Festival◎

Southwestern herb gatherers are a profession that emerged with the rise of the medicinal herb trade.

Herbs grow in the mountains, and compared to outsiders, the local tribes of the southwest have a much better understanding of herb distribution and the terrain.

Merchants from the Central Plains and wandering martial artists seeking herbs could simply pay a bit of silver to hire locals to gather herbs for them.

The people of Dianzhou weren’t fools, either. Over time, they formed their own herb-gathering teams, set up medicinal shops, and traded directly with the Central Plains.

Lu Jianwei had come to the southwest in search of an antidote, and while she was at it, she intended to take advantage of the region’s abundant herbs.

Now that she had saved a professional herb gatherer, she no longer needed to venture into the mountains herself—nor did she have to pay for the service. Life had become quite leisurely.

For the past few days, she had sent Liang Shangjun to gather information about the Miao tribe. However, not only were there few Miao people in Dada City, but details about the tribe were also scarce.

All they knew was that the Miao tribe was the most mysterious among the southwestern tribes, and nearly all of them were followers of the Gu God Sect.

They worshipped the Gu God, cherished the tranquility of the deep mountains, and deeply resented outsiders trespassing on their land.

Lu Jianwei had always maintained a healthy respect for the unknown.

As an outsider, if she barged into Miao territory and disturbed their peace, she would be nothing more than a villain in their eyes.

If she relied on her strength as an eighth-level Martial King to invade their land without restraint, how would she be any different from the reckless martial artists who roamed the jianghu?

"Do the Miao tribe interact with the other two tribes?"

Liang Shangjun replied, "They probably do, but we might not be able to establish a connection. Even if we could, they might not be willing to introduce us."

"Perhaps there’s another way," Wen Zhuzhi said, pushing his wheelchair forward. "Every year on the sixth day of the ninth month, the three southwestern tribes jointly celebrate the Gu God Festival. The Miao tribe sends representatives to participate."

Lu Jianwei frowned. "Outsiders aren’t allowed to attend the Gu God Festival."

"In the eyes of the Buwa tribe, a life-saving benefactor is not an outsider," Wen Zhuzhi said with a smile. "You saved one of their own, so in their eyes, you’re now one of them—eligible to attend the festival."

A glimmer of realization flashed in Lu Jianwei’s eyes. "If I save more Buwa tribesmen, then perhaps—"

BANG!

A deafening crash erupted from outside the courtyard.

A mountain of a man, wielding a broadsword, strode forward with earth-shaking steps.

It was Azhami—the Yi tribesman who had injured Amuan. He must have heard about her saving a Buwa tribesman and had come to pick a fight.

Towering like a wall, his voice boomed as he spat out a string of words.

Lu Jianwei didn’t understand a thing.

"Boss, he’s asking if we’re the ones who saved Amuan of the Buwa tribe," Liang Shangjun translated in real time.

The Yi tribe’s reputation for violence was well-deserved. Not only had they injured someone, but now they were targeting the rescuers as well.

Lu Jianwei nodded. "Tell him the truth."

Liang Shangjun grinned excitedly and shouted at Azhami, "Yeah, we saved him! What’s it to you?"

"If you saved that Buwa brat, then you’re enemies of the Yi tribe! Deceitful Central Plains rats—you deserve to die!"

Azhami swung his massive blade, aiming to cleave the inn’s gate in two.

"Yan Feicang."

Before Lu Jianwei’s words even faded, the inn’s resident swordsman appeared outside the courtyard. His longsword clashed against Azhami’s, blocking the strike.

Azhami, a fifth-level Martial Warrior with monstrous strength, was forced back several steps by Yan Feicang’s internal energy.

He blinked in surprise. "Huh. Not all Central Plains folk are weaklings."

Battle intent surged within him.

His massive blade, far from being a hindrance, only amplified his ferocity. With his natural strength, the sheer weight of his weapon, and his fifth-level cultivation, Azhami could dominate most fifth-level martial artists—even holding his own against sixth-level experts.

Yan Feicang’s swordplay was known for its power, but against Azhami, his blade seemed almost delicate.

He dodged the sweeping strikes with agility, countering with a relentless assault aimed at Azhami’s neck.

Azhami roared, welcoming the challenge.

In terms of pure skill, Yan Feicang had the upper hand, but Azhami’s defenses were formidable. Bringing him down wouldn’t be quick or easy.

Their battle grew increasingly fierce, sword winds kicking up dust and distorting the very air.

Yet no matter how many strikes landed near the gate, the inn remained untouched, and those inside remained utterly unperturbed.

Liang Shangjun even pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds and squatted on the ground, casually snacking.

"Where’d you get those?" A'Nai asked suspiciously.

"Just found ’em," Liang Shangjun said, offering the bag. "Want some?"

A'Nai’s eyes widened. "Those are mine!"

"Says who?"

"I marked them!" A'Nai fumed. "There’s a circle drawn at the bottom of the bag! You stole my seeds!"

"Don’t be so stingy. They’re just seeds—buy more if you run out," Liang Shangjun said, glancing at Wen Zhuzhi. "With all your money, how come your servant’s so tight-fisted?"

Yue Shu couldn’t help but interject. "Taking without asking is theft. You stole from him and then blamed him for being stingy? That’s not how it works."

"Exactly. A'Nai might be a bit frugal, but stealing is still wrong," Xue Guanhe added sagely.

A'Nai: "..."

Liang Shangjun burst out laughing.

"See? Even your friends think you’re cheap."

"Xue Guanhe, when have I ever been cheap?!" A'Nai, now thoroughly distracted from the seeds, demanded an explanation.

Xue Guanhe darted away.

"You’re just… not very generous."

"After I treated you to chicken legs yesterday, this is how you repay me?!" A'Nai chased after him, fuming.

The two ran around the courtyard, their bickering completely overshadowing the life-and-death battle outside.

Upstairs, Bian Xingzhou leaned against the windowsill, fanning himself as he watched the spectacle with amusement.

"Brother Zhao, it’s a good thing you didn’t fight Yan Feicang back at the Joy Pavilion. Otherwise, the Celestial Pillar Sect would’ve been humiliated."

"The Martial Alliance already suffered enough disgrace at the Eight Directions Inn," Zhao Rui sneered. "I was in seclusion at the time, so I missed the whole ‘Six Stallions in the Stable’ incident. What a pity—if I’d heard about it sooner, I might’ve been so delighted I’d have broken through immediately."

Bian Xingzhou’s face darkened. "I’m from the Purple Star Hall. The Celestial Vanguard Hall’s mess has nothing to do with me."

"Tsk, how cold. They say the Purple Star Hall leads the Martial Alliance, and that its chief disciple is the most likely successor to the Alliance Leader’s seat. As a Purple Star disciple, aren’t you being a bit too selfish?"

"You—"

"With all this infighting, the Martial Alliance must be in decline," Zhao Rui continued mockingly. "Bian Xingzhou, instead of meddling in others’ affairs, why not go back and train harder? Unless you want to lose so badly at the Martial Grand Meet that you cry."

Bian Xingzhou laughed coldly. "I heard you rank in the top five among the Celestial Pillar Sect’s younger generation. Seems the sect’s standards aren’t that high after all."

"Bian Xingzhou, don’t push your luck!"

"Why so angry? I’m just stating facts. Speaking of infighting, the Celestial Pillar Sect’s power struggles were far more… enlightening. If your Zhao family hadn’t resorted to underhanded tricks, the Qi family wouldn’t have been exiled."

Lu Jianwei’s eyes sparkled. Oho, more juicy gossip.

She did happen to know two people surnamed Qi—both from the Celestial Pillar Sect.

One of them had even risen to the rank of deputy commander in the Mystic Mirror Bureau.

Outside, the battle raged on.

Yan Feicang grew increasingly formidable during his stay at the inn. He never slackened, training diligently day and night. With occasional guidance from the innkeeper, Lu Jianwei, his swordsmanship had matured significantly.

No matter how strong one’s defense, it could not withstand the force of raging waves.

"Bang—"

Azhami suddenly collapsed with a thunderous crash.

In the nearby forest, startled birds took flight, their cries echoing incessantly.

Yan Feicang pressed his blade against Azhami’s neck and turned to ask, "Innkeeper, how should we deal with him?"

"The stables," Lu Jianwei replied, tossing out an Ordinary Guest pill.

Forced to swallow it, Azhami realized his inner energy had vanished. Panic seized him.

"What did you give me?!"

Liang Shangjun teased, "Just a sugar pill. Why so tense?"

"Impossible! My inner energy is gone!" Azhami tried to lift his sword, only to find he couldn’t even hold it. "You stole my energy! The Gu God will punish you!"

Lu Jianwei said, "Silence him."

Tiao administered a mute poison, rendering Azhami utterly powerless—like fish on a chopping block.

The stables became his final destination.

Upstairs, the two who had been quarreling earlier felt a sudden chill down their spines.

Had it not been for Xue’er’s intervention that day, would they too have ended up in the stables, unable to utter a sound?

"Did you two enjoy the show?" Lu Jianwei turned to them with a smile.

They instantly withdrew their heads and shut their doors and windows tightly.

As the saying went, there were no secrets in Dada City.

News of Azhami’s failed provocation and subsequent imprisonment in the stables spread like wildfire through the town.

At Kadien Pharmacy, the shop assistant Amuli was stunned.

"What? Azhami lost? To warriors from the Central Plains?"

"Exactly. He’s in the stables of the Eight Directions Inn right now. Want to go see for yourself?"

"I’ll pass." Amuli frowned in thought. "These Central Plains people running an inn in Dada City—with a highly skilled physician and warriors capable of defeating Azhami—are no ordinary folk."

He needed to inform the clan—not out of caution, but to ensure no one foolishly provoked trouble.

Azhami was one of the Yi tribe’s finest warriors. His defeat at the hands of Central Plains fighters enraged the tribe. They cursed his incompetence while plotting to reclaim their honor.

The Sacred Medicine Hall learned of the incident even earlier.

Hall Master Aleshu reclined on a soft couch, listening to Ashicai’s report with growing interest.

"Lucky we didn’t act that night, or we’d have missed such a spectacle. Those brutish fools from the Yi tribe—do they ever think? Central Plains people who dare make such a stir in Dada City are not to be trifled with."

"Hall Master, that innkeeper’s medical skills are extraordinary—she healed injuries of that severity. Should we investigate further?"

"Investigate what?" Aleshu scoffed. "After interrogating a few Central Plains captives, we learned this Lu Jianwei is known as the ‘Righteous Heroine’ back home, famous for settling grievances. As for her medical skills, those weaklings probably exaggerated out of ignorance."

"Hall Master is wise."

Aleshu slowly sat up, a faint smile on his lips. "Dada City hasn’t seen anything this entertaining in ages. I’ll pay them a visit myself."

"Understood. I’ll make preparations."

At the Eight Directions Inn, Lu Jianwei waited for the Yi tribe’s retaliation.

But before they arrived, a visitor from the Central Plains appeared.

This man was strikingly handsome, though unnaturally pale, with vividly red lips and a slender frame. He wore an indigo robe, a short sword at his waist, and a sachet hanging on his left side. His speech carried an unusual cadence, yet his words were standard court dialect.

"I am Lin Wang, from Cangzhou. Having read The Righteous Heroine and Biographies of Eight Directions, I deeply admire Innkeeper Lu. Never did I expect to meet you in Yunnan—what an honor."

Lu Jianwei smiled warmly. "A pleasure, Young Master Lin."

"Innkeeper, I’d like to book an upper room."

"Upper rooms are for female guests only."

Lin Wang paused, then chuckled. "Then a standard room will do."

"A’Yue, note it down."

"Right away. Young Master Lin, this way."

Lin Wang clasped his hands. "Many thanks, little brother."

"You’re too kind."

Once they entered the room, Lu Jianwei reclined in her rocking chair, eyes closed in rest.

A sixth-level mid-stage warrior from Cangzhou—something about him stood out.

Most might not notice, but her instincts were sharp, and as a physician, her senses were keen.

Lin Wang carried a peculiar scent, like an unusual medicinal aroma.

His harmless appearance belied an underlying danger.

Lu Jianwei asked playfully, "Xiao Ke, figured it out yet?"

"You already know, why ask me?" Xiao Ke, having spent enough time with her, could now read her expressions.

By dinnertime, the Yi tribe still hadn’t shown.

Lu Jianwei instructed the staff to close the courtyard gates and head to the dining hall.

He Lianxue and the other three always took meals in their rooms, never joining the communal table.

The new guest, however, strode confidently into the dining hall and said politely, "Innkeeper Lu, I’ve already arranged dinner with Brother Xue. But dining alone is rather lonely—might I join your table?"

Lu Jianwei was accommodating.

"Please, have a seat."

Lin Wang glanced around.

At the square Eight Immortals table, Lu Jianwei sat at the head, with the five staff members filling the sides and the far end.

Liang Shangjun patted the empty seat beside him. "Young Master Lin, if you don’t mind, sit here."

Lin Wang obliged and asked curiously, "I recall another gentleman staying here. Why isn’t he present?"

"He’s also a guest and doesn’t dine with us," Lu Jianwei said smoothly, lying without hesitation.

Xue Guanhe and Yue Shu exchanged glances.

After that strange conversation between the innkeeper and Young Master Wen, the latter had stopped eating with them.

No one knew why.

"I see." Lin Wang suddenly looked bashful. "Truth be told, I’d heard of Innkeeper Lu’s reputation and knew that gentleman was surnamed Wen—a wealthy merchant from Jiangnan who often stays long-term. I assumed you’d dine together."

"Young Master Lin, which sect do you belong to?" Lu Jianwei asked abruptly.

Without missing a beat, Lin Wang replied naturally, "I’m but a wandering martial artist—no sect to speak of."

"Oh?" Lu Jianwei praised, "To reach the sixth level without formal training—your talent is remarkable."

Lin Wang shook his head modestly. "Compared to Innkeeper Lu, I’m far inferior. Everyone knows you’re an eighth-level Martial King at such a young age, with unparalleled medical skills—a true role model."

"You flatter me." Lu Jianwei shifted topics again. "Did you come to Yunnan seeking herbs?"

"Indeed." Lin Wang nodded. "Rumor has it the ‘White Remembrance’ in Soulsever Ridge is about to bloom. I came to witness the spectacle. Surely that’s why you’re here as well?"

"White Remembrance?" Yue Shu asked, puzzled. "What’s that?"

Lin Wang seemed surprised. "You’re not here for that? White Remembrance is a rare medicinal herb that blooms only once every ten years—this year marks its cycle. Given Innkeeper Lu’s expertise in medicine, you must know of it?"

"I've heard a bit about it," Lu Jianwei replied indifferently. "How did Young Master Lin come to know of it?"

The medicinal herb "White to Old Age" was something Lu Jianwei had encountered in the Compendium of Medicinal Herbs. As Lin Wang had mentioned, it indeed bloomed only once every ten years.

It wasn't an herb but a type of tree, with no medicinal value in its trunk or leaves—only its flowers held potency.

The exact effects of this remedy were unclear, but the book noted that adding a measured amount of its petals to certain prescriptions could vastly enhance their efficacy.

For instance, adding it to the White Jade Lingzhi Elixir, which originally extended life by a year, might stretch that to two or even three years.

Since it bloomed only once a decade, it wasn’t listed in the system’s marketplace. Lu Jianwei had never seen it in person, nor had she tested its effects.

Logically, news of such a miraculous herb’s blooming should be tightly guarded by locals, not easily leaked. At most, only a few well-connected, ancient sects in the Central Plains would know. How, then, had Lin Wang—a wandering martial artist—learned of it?

And ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‍why had he specifically brought it up?

"It seems Shopkeeper Lu isn’t aware of this news. My apologies for the abruptness," Lin Wang explained with a smile. "I once befriended a medicinal merchant who’d operated in Dada City for years. He was the one who told me. A single petal of White to Old Age is priceless. Once it truly blooms, many will surely rush to claim it."

Lu Jianwei said, "With Young Master Lin’s martial prowess, you’ll undoubtedly achieve your wish."

"Shopkeeper Lu, you flatter me. I’m merely a sixth-rank martial artist—how could I compete with other masters?" Lin Wang paused, his gaze sincere. "But if Shopkeeper Lu were willing to act, success would be assured."

Lu Jianwei chuckled. "I don’t even know where it grows or when it blooms."

"They say it’s deep in the Soul-Severing Ridge, with about half a month until flowering," Lin Wang replied candidly, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of more competitors.

Half a month.

Today was the 25th of August, meaning it would bloom around mid-September.

The Gu God Festival was on the 6th of September.

September was shaping up to be quite an eventful month.

"Aren’t you worried that telling us will mean one more rival?" Lu Jianwei asked.

Lin Wang: "I know my limits. With so many martial artists vying for it, how could I possibly win? As I said earlier, I just want to witness the spectacle."

Lu Jianwei smiled. "Perhaps witnessing it will bring its own serendipity. I wish Young Master Lin a fruitful journey."

"Shopkeeper Lu truly won’t go?" Lin Wang’s face fell. "With your skills, obtaining White to Old Age would be effortless. What a shame."

After finishing her meal, Lu Jianwei returned to her room.

She wanted "White to Old Age" badly—not just for its medicinal properties, but for another, more critical reason.

She suspected it was the final ingredient in the antidote for "Journey to the Underworld."

She and Tiao had deduced the rest of the prescription from Lin Congyue’s notes, but the last component remained elusive.

Strangely, all the other ingredients, when perfectly combined, could neutralize the poison. Yet achieving that perfect balance was impossible.

Too little failed to eradicate the toxicity; too much altered the remedy’s nature, causing harmful side effects.

The equilibrium of the herbs’ properties was delicate.

That was when she thought of "White to Old Age." Adding a single petal might just achieve perfection.

White to Old Age bloomed once every ten years.

Ten years ago, Lin Congyue had appeared in Soul-Severing Ridge, gathering the final antidote ingredients.

It had been the herb’s last blooming season.

Such a coincidence was impossible to ignore.

Of course, this was merely speculation. To confirm it, she needed the herb itself.

"Weiwei, your birthday is coming up," Xiao Ke suddenly reminded her.

Lu Jianwei: "So what if it is?"

No one here knew her birthday anyway, so there was no point celebrating.

Her lunar calendar birthday was the 28th of August. Last year, she’d crossed over to this world just days before it, her survival far from guaranteed. She hadn’t been in the mood for festivities.

A year had passed since then. Now an eighth-rank Martial King, she could stand proudly in the martial world. With her internal energy, she could amass wealth swiftly, hastening her return home.

But leaving like this would leave her restless for life.

Lu Jianwei waited all night, but the Yi tribe never came.

Weren’t they supposed to be impulsive? Why the delay?

By mid-morning, someone knocked at the courtyard gate.

It was Amusha, carrying a bamboo basket on his back and two more in his hands. His dark face broke into a warm, guileless smile at the sight of Lu Jianwei and the others.

"Shopkeeper Lu, these are fish we—Amulang and I—caught in the river. Fresh and hardly worth anything, but we thought you might enjoy them."

The baskets also held fruits and vegetables.

"Thank you," Lu Jianwei said with a smile.

Xue Guanhe and Yue Shu brought a basin to transfer the fish. Some still flopped vigorously; others were on their last breaths.

The dying ones would be stewed for lunch.

Amusha scratched his head. "Where’s Young Master Wen?"

"In his room," Yue Shu said. "Should I call him?"

These past two days, Young Master Wen had rarely emerged. No one knew what he was doing inside—even A'Nai remained tight-lipped.

"What do you need him for?" A'Nai appeared by the railing.

Amusha grinned. "The Gu God Festival is approaching. Our tribe would like to invite Shopkeeper Lu and Young Master Wen to join the celebration. Would they be willing?"

Wen Zhuzhi’s words had been true—the Buwa tribe really was inviting them.

"Why us?" Lu Jianwei feigned ignorance.

Amusha chuckled. "Young Master Wen once saved my life, and Shopkeeper Lu saved Amuan the other day. Both are honored guests. We’d like you to receive the Gu God’s blessings."

"In that case, I’d be honored," Lu Jianwei said warmly. "Are there any customs we should observe?"

"Nothing too strict. Just stay with us." Amusha hesitated, then added, "But beware of the Yi tribe. Last night, they gathered warriors to attack the inn. Our tribe intercepted them in the mountains, but some might slip through."

Lu Jianwei: So that’s why they never showed up.

She asked gently, "Were any of your tribesmen hurt?"

"Just minor wounds. Nothing serious." Amusha’s smile deepened at her concern. "Shopkeeper Lu, I heard from Amuli at the apothecary about yesterday. Your medical skills are extraordinary. Even our Great Shaman says no other physician in the Central Plains matches you."

Lu Jianwei demurred, "The Great Shaman is too kind."

The sound of a wheelchair approached as Wen Zhuzhi emerged from his room. He nodded at Amusha. "Thank you for the invitation. I’ll attend."

"Wonderful!" Amusha beamed. "Amuan and I will come to escort you both when the time comes."

After a few more pleasantries, he left with his empty baskets.

Lin Wang said with a hint of envy, "The Gu God Festival is the grandest celebration in Dianzhou. Outsiders are usually not permitted to attend. For Shopkeeper Lu and Young Master Wen to receive an invitation from the Buwa tribe shows how sincerely the Buwa people regard you as one of their own."

Liang Shangjun added, "The Gu God Festival is a joint celebration of three tribes. Do you think the Yi people might cause trouble?"

"Even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t dare do so during the Gu God Festival. Offending the Gu God by accident would bring them nothing but misfortune afterward," Lin Wang shook his head.

Lu Jianwei remarked, "Young Master Lin seems quite familiar with the customs of the southwest."

"It’s all thanks to a merchant friend of mine who deals in medicinal herbs. He warned me about local traditions so I wouldn’t unintentionally offend anyone," Lin Wang replied, his tone and expression perfectly natural. "Still, Shopkeeper Lu, you should be cautious when attending the Gu God Festival."

"Oh?" Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Legend has it that on the day of the Gu God Festival, unmarried men and women receive the Gu God’s blessing to find their most ideal partner." Lin Wang’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his crimson lips curling into a teasing smile. "Shopkeeper Lu, with your ethereal beauty, you might just catch the eye of warriors from all three tribes, who’ll then beg the Gu God to bestow his favor upon you."

Lu Jianwei: "..."

This isn’t the Gu God—it’s a matchmaker!