No Fighting Allowed in the Inn Chapter 30

"Confirmed? It was truly the work of the Mystic Mirror Bureau?"

"Absolutely certain."

"Strange. Where did they get so much ink?"

"Likely provided by the inn."

"Wasn’t it said that the ink was specially made by the Mystic Mirror Bureau? Why would the inn have it?"

"Unclear, but there are rumors that the inn operates under the Bureau’s orders."

"Impossible!"

Similar conversations took place among various factions.

Five hundred sheets of paper had stirred unrest, leaving everyone sleepless. No one believed the rumors—they had brains, after all.

If the innkeeper of the Eight Directions Inn, Lu Jianwei, or the hidden master behind her were truly agents of the Mystic Mirror Bureau, why would the Bureau even need to run an inn here?

And why would the three Mystic Mirror agents staying here act so cautiously?

An act?

Would the Mystic Mirror Bureau have the time for such theatrics?

In the dead of night, the eastern wing of the third floor echoed with sounds that brought blushes to cheeks.

Lu Jianwei sighed softly—even such noises grew tiresome after hearing them too often.

Her heart remained unmoved, only sparing a sliver of attention to the adjacent room as she focused on cultivating her inner energy.

Yan Feicang's secluded chamber was already warded by a formation, requiring no concern from her. As for whether others could endure it, that was beyond her help.

She couldn’t very well cast another Tranquil Heart Mantra.

The provocative sounds mingled with the crisp chime of bells, weaving into an eerie melody that relentlessly assaulted the mind in the silent darkness.

The speed of her nameless cultivation technique accelerated, her inner energy surging toward the meridians in her head, as if constructing an intangible barrier to shield against the noise.

Lu Jianwei’s eyes snapped open.

The unlit room was dim and still, her breathing almost imperceptible. Yet the bell’s chime pierced through the walls, ringing ceaselessly in her ears.

She opened her system panel—the defense value remained unchanged. The system didn’t classify this as a sonic attack.

Because it posed no harm. It merely induced drowsiness, lulling one into deeper slumber.

Hypnosis?

Not a bad method.

Lu Jianwei neither moved nor intervened.

Half an hour later, the bells in the neighboring room abruptly ceased.

Lan Ling’s voice, husky with lethargy, murmured, “Time to get to work.”

“They say there’s a hidden master guarding this inn,” Ping Wu replied softly. “If the bells didn’t work, won’t we be exposed?”

“A hidden master? How many martial artists above the sixth rank even exist in the jianghu? Do you think my Thousand Miles Tower feeds on empty rumors? We wouldn’t make such a basic mistake.”

Ping Wu: “Then how did the night raid fail?”

“Probably some esoteric trick.”

“Lan’er is right. Shall we search Yue Shu’s room now?”

Lan Ling yawned. “All that moaning left my throat sore. Once we find the treasure map, we’re leaving. I need proper sleep.”

“You’ve worked hard.” Ping Wu chuckled. “Your bells are impossible to guard against. This merits great rewards from the Tower—congratulations in advance.”

Lan Ling smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your share.”

Her slender fingers traced Ping Wu’s smooth cheek before pushing the door open.

As they passed Lu Jianwei’s room, Lan Ling paused mid-step.

“Such a breathtaking beauty. A pity.”

Ping Wu followed closely. “A pity?”

“A pity I can’t take her back to keep me company every day.” With a flicker of movement, Lan Ling descended to the first-floor hall.

Ping Wu feigned hurt. “Am I not enough for you, Lan’er?”

Lan Ling only smiled in reply.

She approached Yue Shu’s door, hand outstretched—

“Since Miss Lan is so reluctant to part with me, why not stay here permanently? Then we can keep each other company daily.”

A soft, measured voice spoke abruptly behind her.

Lan Ling whirled around, pupils contracting.

Moonlight slanted through the window lattice, illuminating the slender figure of a woman in thin sleep robes standing several paces away. Lu Jianwei blew gently on the tinderbox in her hand.

A flame leaped to life, casting light across the scene.

She approached a candleholder, the wick catching the orange fire, bathing the entire hall in even illumination.

On the floor lay Ping Wu, unconscious.

“What did you do to him?” Lan Ling demanded, gaze sharp. “You said searching for the treasure map was fair game. I harmed no one—what’s the meaning of this?”

Lu Jianwei’s voice was cool. “You’ve been making noise for so long, I grew tired of it. Consider this a temporary silence. I did say ‘fair game,’ and you didn’t harm anyone, but I forgot to mention—getting caught incurs a fine.”

Lan Ling: “…”

“Don’t be upset. Cracking down on theft is the duty of any righteous martial artist. If someone robbed your home, the consequences would be far worse.” Lu Jianwei smiled. “Since it’s your first offense, let’s make it a hundred taels.”

Lan Ling: *A den of thieves! This is a den of thieves!*

She seethed. “Everyone else fell asleep. Why didn’t you?”

Her and Ping Wu’s earlier performance hadn’t been mere flirtation—each word carried subtle hypnosis, paired with the seemingly erratic chime of bells. Anyone below the seventh rank should’ve succumbed.

Lu Jianwei sighed. “Listening to your lovers’ banter while I lie alone in bed only makes me more awake.”

“If you lack agreeable company, I can introduce you to as many men as you like—any type you prefer, I’ll find them for you.” Lan Ling stepped closer, voice dripping with faux sorrow. “Just spare me this once. You don’t seem interested in the treasure anyway.”

Lu Jianwei chuckled, extending her palm.

“A hundred taels first. Then we’ll talk.”

Lan Ling: “…”

She glared before snatching a silver note from Ping Wu’s robes and slapping it into Lu Jianwei’s hand.

“Take it! I’m going to bed!”

Lu Jianwei nodded at the unconscious man. “Your Ping Wu—”

“Let him sleep on the floor!”

Lu Jianwei raised a brow. *Very well.*

Not her problem.

The latter half of the night passed without incident. After meditating, Lu Jianwei dozed briefly until dawn tinged the sky.

Cultivating inner energy meant even all-nighters left her refreshed.

She pushed open the window, and chilly air rushed in, sharp against her skin.

Autumn’s grip tightened.

The leaden sky hung like a suffocating blanket, heavy with impending rain.

Lu Jianwei selected a new outfit—thicker than before, cozy against the cold.

Though her inner energy shielded her from temperature, life demanded its rituals. If seasons lost their meaning, what joy remained in the world?

The gloomy weather made cosmetics unnecessary. Bare-faced, she descended the stairs.

Her usual makeup was light, barely distinguishable from her natural complexion. Inner energy refinement had polished her skin to a luminous clarity—hardly any difference now.

The inn’s occupants noticed nothing amiss.

At the foot of the stairs, several staff huddled together.

Xue Guanhe approached. “Innkeeper, we found Ping Wu lying here this morning. He won’t wake up no matter what we do.”

Lu Jianwei nodded. “He’s drugged. He’ll sleep it off in a few days. Leave him be.”

“Just… leave him here?”

“Once Miss Lan wakes, she’ll handle it.”

Though puzzled, Xue Guanhe asked no further questions and simply agreed.

Moments later, the guests from the second floor descended one after another, halting in their tracks at the sight of Ping Wu lying stiffly on the ground.

What had happened last night? Why had none of them noticed a thing?

Had Lan Ling made her move?

And what was the deal with her manservant?

Both Song Xian and Chai Kun wore grave expressions.

The former curled his fingers inside his sleeves, steadied himself, and strode into the courtyard.

Yue Shu was sweeping the yard.

"Nephew," Song Xian approached slowly, wearing the standard benevolent smile of an elder. "I arrived in haste yesterday and didn’t have the chance to properly catch up with you. You must have suffered greatly these days, wandering without a home. Now you’re even doing menial labor fit for servants. Why not return with me? I promise to help you rebuild White Crane Manor."

Yue Shu: "…"

Did he look like an idiot to this man?

"Manor Master Song, I don’t have any treasure map, nor do I even know what such a thing is. If you’re trying to pry information from me, you’ve come to the wrong person."

"Nephew, you misunderstand. I swore before your father’s grave to find you and raise you as my own son. All I want now is to take you back. You haven’t even paid your respects at your father’s grave yet, have you?"

Yue Shu lowered his gaze, his eyes gradually reddening.

Not only had he failed to pay respects, but he hadn’t even been there to mourn or carry the coffin.

Song Xian pressed on, "Your mother passed early, and your father worked tirelessly to raise you alone. White Crane Manor was his life’s work. Can you bear to see it vanish from this world?"

"Manor Master Song, have you forgotten? The moment I step out of this inn, I’ll be swarmed by martial artists. Do you really think I’d let myself be torn apart by jackals like prey?" He sniffled and turned away. "Is this how you show your care—by pushing me into the jaws of wolves?"

Song Xian: "Nephew—"

"Ah-Yue!" Xue Guanhe called from inside the hall. "Breakfast is ready!"

Yue Shu hurriedly responded, not sparing Song Xian another glance as he jogged away.

Leaving Song Xian standing alone in the courtyard.

A small drop of rain landed on his forehead, cold and damp. He wiped it away, but before the wetness could dry, more raindrops cascaded down in a sudden downpour.

Song Xian retreated under the eaves.

Inside, Lu Jianwei and the staff were enjoying their meal, the aroma of food wafting through the air. Clutching his empty stomach, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes.

A dignified manor master—when had he ever suffered such humiliation?

"Manor Master Song." Chai Kun, equally breakfast-less, stepped out and greeted him. Gazing at the endless curtain of rain, he remarked, "Last night, someone attempted theft and failed. Just now, you tried playing the sentimental card to coax Young Master Yue into leaving with you—and failed again. What’s the next move?"

Song Xian: "…"

If you have nothing useful to say, shut up!

Chai Kun sighed. "The most stable relationships in this world are built on mutual benefit, don’t you think?"

"What are you plotting?" Song Xian caught his implication. "Cooperating with the inn? Hasn’t Black Wind Fort suffered enough losses already?"

They’d already lost face and money aplenty.

Chai Kun smiled without answering and turned back inside.

With the rain pouring outside, Lu Jianwei, bored after finishing her meal, sat behind the counter flipping through a basic medical text.

Lan Ling, still clad in sheer gauze, her figure alluring, stopped before Lu Jianwei with a charming smile.

As if last night’s unpleasantness had been entirely forgotten.

"Innkeeper Lu, what kind of drug did you give my Ping Wu? Why hasn’t he woken up yet?"

Without looking up, Lu Jianwei replied, "Just an ordinary sedative. He’ll sleep for three days, then wake up naturally."

A fourth-rank martial artist could go without food or water for three days without harm.

"Three days?" Lan Ling lamented. "Innkeeper Lu, you’re so cruel. Leaving me without a servant for three days—how am I to endure such suffering?"

Lu Jianwei teased, "It’ll give your voice a rest."

Lan Ling: "…"

She stamped her foot, the bells on her ankles jingling.

"A delicate woman like me can’t possibly move him. Could you lend a hand?"

Lu Jianwei raised a brow. "The inn doesn’t offer body-moving services—unless hired, of course."

Hired meant paying.

Lan Ling scoffed. "Fine, find two people to carry him to my room."

"Uncle Zhang, Guanhe," Lu Jianwei called. "Carry Young Master Ping Wu to the third floor. Miss Lan has promised you a hundred wen each—keep it for yourselves."

"Coming!" Xue Guanhe rushed over excitedly. He’d never earned money before. A hundred wen wasn’t much, but it was his first wage—worth commemorating.

Uncle Zhang shuffled over, lifting Ping Wu’s shoulders while Xue Guanhe grabbed his feet, hauling him up to the eastern chamber on the third floor.

"Miss Lan, payment." Xue Guanhe held out his palm.

Lan Ling, faced with this déjà vu scene, felt a surge of frustration. Last night, she’d been extorted for a hundred taels, and now another two hundred wen? That Lu woman was truly money-mad!

With a huff, she tossed two pieces of broken silver at them. "I haven’t had breakfast yet. Bring it to me."

Xue Guanhe offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, you didn’t place an order. We can’t make it now."

"Can’t make it?" Lan Ling frowned. "Aren’t you the cook?"

Xue Guanhe explained, "Young Master Wen’s servant has an arrangement with the inn. Every time I finish cooking, he borrows the kitchen to prepare meals for his master. Right now, he’s using it—I can’t cook for you."

"…" Lan Ling was livid. "Yesterday, wasn’t it agreed that I’d eat the same as you? Just make a little extra!"

"That was yesterday. For breakfast today, you had to request it last night. If I made extra and you didn’t want it, wouldn’t that be a waste?"

Lan Ling’s makeup nearly cracked from fury.

"Then let me make it clear—for as long as I stay at this inn, I’ll eat the same as you. Prepare a portion for me for every meal."

"Noted," Xue Guanhe nodded. "What about Young Master Ping Wu?"

"Same for him when he wakes!"

"Understood."

The regular guests had already made arrangements. Tao Yang, Wei Liu, and the envoys from the Mystic Mirror Bureau all enjoyed steaming hot breakfasts.

Out of respect for his teacher, Tao Yang reluctantly invited Song Xian to join them.

Song Xian, fond of maintaining his dignity, never dined with his disciples. Preferring hunger over compromise, he returned to his room to meditate.

Meanwhile, Chai Kun sought out Lu Jianwei.

"Innkeeper Lu, I have a request. May we speak privately?"

Lu Jianwei remained seated, unmoved.

"What is it, Elder Chai?"

Chai Kun cupped his hands. "This concerns the treasure map. I must be cautious—please forgive the secrecy."

"Speak freely."

Lu Jianwei turned a page.

The book detailed the properties and uses of medicinal herbs. She’d nearly memorized it all. Next, she’d need to buy an advanced edition—more money spent. Sigh.

Chai Kun had no choice but to trust her.

"Innkeeper Lu, I’ll be direct. You allowed us into the inn to search for the treasure map because neither you nor Young Master Yue could find it, correct?"

Lu Jianwei smiled. "Elder Chai, I’m curious—why are you all so certain White Crane Manor has a treasure map, and that it’s hidden on Ah-Yue?"

"We have our sources," Chai Kun replied smoothly. "Would Innkeeper Lu be willing to strike a deal with Black Wind Fort?"

Lu Jianwei lifted her gaze. "Are you suggesting I let you search Yue Shu’s room, and if you find the map, you’ll share the treasure with me?"

"Shopkeeper Lu is indeed a clever one," Chai Kun remarked with a deep, inscrutable gaze. "Since you’ve considered this point, it means you share the same intention. Why don’t we collaborate and secure the treasure together?"

Lu Jianwei curved her lips. "I do love wealth, but I prefer others offering it to me rather than coveting what isn’t mine and resorting to force."

Chai Kun: *Eleven thousand taels for ransom—and you call that not resorting to force?!*

"Shopkeeper Lu, to be frank, if this treasure truly belonged to White Crane Manor, they would’ve claimed it long ago. That proves it isn’t theirs. In such cases, whoever holds the map owns the treasure."

Lu Jianwei replied, "If you’re serious about cooperation, why not discuss it with the owner? If Yue Shu agrees, I won’t object."

*Just don’t disturb my reading.*

Chai Kun’s face brightened with a smile. "With Shopkeeper Lu’s word, I’m reassured."

He cupped his hands and took his leave.

Lu Jianwei chuckled to herself. These three factions were relentless.

One resorted to nocturnal hypnosis and theft; another played the emotional card; and now, one actually wanted to negotiate with the treasure’s rightful owner.

It was all quite amusing.

She was curious—who would emerge victorious in the end?

---

Yue Shu was in the kitchen, helping A'Nai tend to the fire. The flames cast a warm glow on his youthful, slightly flushed face.

Absorbed in a book, he read with rapt attention.

"The fire’s about to die," A'Nai sighed. "Go read in your room. I don’t need your help anymore."

He reached for more firewood but found none.

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I forgot." Yue Shu hastily closed his book and scrambled to gather more wood, feeding it into the stove.

The flames roared back to life.

A'Nai stared in surprise. "Did you just rearrange the firewood?"

"I got a little carried away," Yue Shu admitted, scratching his head. "The book described something fascinating, and I couldn’t resist trying out a minor illusion array. Didn’t do it well—you noticed?"

A'Nai: *You have no idea how talented you are.*

The art of mystic formations was impossible for the untalented, yet his own master had mastered it in just a few years, becoming a prodigy in the field.

Yue Shu’s aptitude might not rival his master’s, but it wasn’t far behind.

"Don’t sell yourself short," A'Nai said.

Yue Shu took it as mere encouragement and smiled, nudging the firewood deeper into the stove.

"The congee is ready. I’ll take some to the master."

"I’ll hold the umbrella for you."

The two stepped out of the kitchen and crossed the courtyard toward the dormitory, only to encounter Chai Kun halfway.