No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 140

◎Concealing Breath Technique, Watching the Drama◎

The scorching sun blazed overhead, baking the village path until it sizzled.

Xu Sanzuo sat under the shade of a tree, but his heart felt icy cold.

He might not know anything about scribes or scholars, but Jiuyi’s surprised yet composed expression told him everything.

So all these years, Jiuyi hadn’t just been hiding his cultivation—he’d also been disguising his identity!

Did Yi Baige and Jiuyi both take him for a fool?!

Unable to hold back, he blurted out, “Are you a scribe or a scholar? How are you connected to the imperial court? Have you met Lu Jianwei before? Did you seek me out on purpose because you knew they were coming? You damned bookworm, if you don’t explain yourself today, we’re cutting ties for good!”

Jiuyi stood up and bowed solemnly, apologizing. “Life was dull back then. After exhausting my family’s library, I took a scribe’s post in the court under the alias ‘Mei Sixian.’ Master Xu, I didn’t mean to deceive you—it’s just that such matters are hard to bring up.”

“What’s so hard about it?” Xu Sanzuo’s beard twitched indignantly.

Jiuyi: “If I told you, you’d nag me for days on end. My ears would’ve grown calluses.”

“Fine, I’ll believe you this once.” Xu Sanzuo huffed. “Everyone’s keeping secrets from this old man, and I’m not happy about it.”

Lu Jianwei asked, “May I ask your name, Scholar?”

“This one is Mei Jiuyi, from Dingzhou.” He clasped his hands sincerely. “I once had the fortune to witness the Eight Directions Inn and have long admired Innkeeper Lu. I wished to befriend you. If I’ve caused offense, I beg your pardon.”

“Martial King Mei, you flatter me. If anything, my inn was lacking in hospitality, and the recent incident was rather embarrassing.”

Mei Jiuyi fanned himself with a feathered fan. “Not at all. Innkeeper Lu turned the tide single-handedly—I’m in awe.”

“What in the world are you two talking about? Can’t you let this old man in on the fun?”

Mei Jiuyi summarized the events of the Eight Directions Inn’s arena battle in a few words, leaving Xu Sanzuo wide-eyed and fuming.

“Outrageous!”

“Had it not been for Innkeeper Lu, the casualties that day would have been severe.” Mei Jiuyi praised warmly. “Since the inn emerged in the martial world, Innkeeper Lu has saved countless lives, embodying true chivalry. That’s why my two attendants and I spoke as we did last night.”

Lu Jianwei: “Trivial matters, not worth mentioning.”

“Innkeeper Lu truly has no intention of rallying the martial world under your banner?”

“None.”

“A pity. If the Eight Directions Inn could unite the martial world, its bloodthirsty ways would surely be cleansed.”

“If Martial King Mei wishes, you could accomplish that yourself.”

Mei Jiuyi shook his head. “I cannot interfere in martial world affairs.”

“Why not?”

“Sect rules.”

“Which sect?”

“Not for outsiders to know.” Mei Jiuyi met her gaze. “I imagine Innkeeper Lu is the same.”

His candor didn’t surprise Lu Jianwei.

If he hadn’t wanted to be noticed, he wouldn’t have appeared before her or spoken in riddles.

So, what was his goal?

Xu Sanzuo caught on and frowned. “A reclusive sect? I’ve heard of them—their disciples may wander the martial world, but they’re forbidden from meddling in its affairs. Yet you, young friend, seem to have dipped your hands in quite a bit.”

Lu Jianwei smiled without answering.

She had never claimed to be from a reclusive sect.

Light footsteps suddenly approached. Pei Zhi moved like lightning, dragging out a boy of twelve or thirteen from around the corner.

The boy bore a resemblance to Huzi.

Unfazed at being caught, he said with practiced ease, “My father sent me with a message.”

“Hah! After Yi Baige lied to me for so long, what could he possibly have to say?” Xu Sanzuo’s goatee bristled.

An assortment of candies and snacks lay spread on a cloth, looking exquisitely tempting. The boy stole a glance, then another, unable to resist.

“My father says you can’t stay outside the village unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you sell us these snacks.”

His forced composure amused Lu Jianwei.

“What’s so funny?!”

“I’m willing to trade, but these treats are quite expensive. You likely can’t afford them.”

The boy: “I have money!”

He pulled out ten copper coins from his pocket, their surfaces worn smooth from long handling.

“This’ll buy ten candies.”

Sugar was costly to begin with, and her candies were one-of-a-kind. One coin per piece was more than fair.

The boy didn’t argue the price but clutched the coins and declared, “I don’t know if your candy’s any good. I’ll need to sample it first.”

Lu Jianwei raised a brow. “How do you propose to do that?”

“Give me one candy to try. If I like it, I’ll buy ten.” He adopted a stance that said, No sample, no deal.

Lu Jianwei: “Then forget it.”

“How can you just forget it?” The boy grew anxious. “I’ll really buy them if they’re good!”

“Yi Dazhu!” An angry shout approached. “Causing trouble again?! Get back here this instant!”

A massive broom came swinging down. The boy dodged nimbly, complaining, “How many times must I say it? Don’t call me ‘Dazhu’! Don’t call me ‘Dazhu’!”

Yi Baige brandished the broom with a sneer. “Since when do gluttons get to make demands?”

“It’s not me! Huzi’s the one who wanted them! Look, he’s drooling all over the place!”

The boy darted like a rabbit, evading the broom’s strikes. But his elder was cunning—feinting one way, he abruptly swept toward the boy’s head. Instinctively, the boy leaped behind Lu Jianwei for cover.

The broom hurtled toward Lu Jianwei’s face, only to be caught effortlessly by a single hand.

Pei Zhi’s inner force coiled around the broom’s bristles, shredding it instantly. A perfectly good broom was reduced to scrap.

The energy traveled up the handle, jolting Yi Baige’s arm and forcing him back several steps, his eyes widening in shock.

This man appeared no older than thirty, yet his internal energy was astonishingly profound.

And the woman beside him—he’d assumed she was ordinary, but now it was clear she was anything but.

Yet her cultivation level remained unfathomable.

Such mastery of breath-concealing techniques was unheard of.

Yi Baige tossed the broken broom aside and pointed at the boy. “Yi Dazhu, come out here. I promise I won’t beat you to death.”

“Not a chance. You can’t win anyway.” The boy stuck out his tongue before turning to Lu Jianwei with a grin. “I know why you’re here. Give me ten candies, and I’ll answer one question.”

Lu Jianwei: “No can do.”

“Why not?”

“Your father wouldn’t like it.”

“He can’t beat you.”

“What if your grandfather can? Or your great-grandfather?”

Yi Dazhu: “…”

“So there really are ninth-rank Martial Kings.” Lu Jianwei tossed him a candy as a reward. “White Cloud Village must have quite a few ‘ancestors’ lying around, hm?”

Yi Baige’s dismissiveness vanished. To speak so casually of ninth-rank Martial Kings—this woman’s confidence spoke volumes.

Apart from Master Xu, the other three all concealed their cultivation, suggesting ties to reclusive sects.

Though White Cloud Village kept to itself, it held no prejudice against those from similar backgrounds.

He glared at Yi Dazhu before asking, “Where do the three of you hail from?”

Even among reclusive sects, connections mattered. He needed to verify their identities.

Lu Jianwei and Pei Zhi remained silent, but Mei Jiuyi spoke frankly, "I am Mei Jiuyi, from Dingzhou."

"Dingzhou..." Yi Baige's mind stirred. "Are you a descendant of the Mei family?"

"My apologies for the intrusion." Mei Jiuyi clasped his hands in greeting.

Yi Baige then turned to Lu Jianwei and Pei Zhi, asking, "And you two?"

"I am Lu Jianwei, from Fengzhou."

"I am Pei Zhi, from the capital."

Yi Baige frowned. He had never heard of any reclusive sects from those places, nor did the surnames ring a bell.

"Enough dawdling," Xu Sanzuo cut in, eyeing him sideways. "Since you know this stinking scholar, why not let us all in together? It's not like White Cloud Village is some forbidden place. Or are you just reluctant to part with your wine?"

Yi Baige could only laugh helplessly. "Fine, come in then."

Skilled in the art of concealing their presence, even if they weren't from reclusive sects, they must have some connection to them. They couldn't be considered outsiders.

"What about these snacks?" Yi Dazhu suddenly spoke up, his face full of anticipation.

Just as Yi Baige was about to scold him, Lu Jianwei said, "Consider them a gift for the children. Please accept them, Martial Lord Yi."

"Great!" Yi Dazhu eagerly gathered the cloth bundle. "Now Huzi and the others won't be drooling with envy anymore! Thank you, Sister Lu!"

Yi Baige: "..."

This troublesome child!

White Cloud Village looked no different from an ordinary rural settlement—neat rows of farmhouses, men and women toiling in the fields. The only distinction was the unique rhythm in their movements as they wielded their farming tools.

They farmed the land while also practicing martial arts.

Lu Jianwei found it fascinating. Reclusive sects were self-sufficient and rarely interacted with the outside world. How did they handle marriages?

Surely they couldn’t rely on inbreeding.

Did the various reclusive sects intermarry among themselves?

But even so, given their small populations, after ten generations, wouldn’t they all become relatives?

"Manager Lu, what are you thinking about?" Mei Jiuyi suddenly leaned closer.

Lu Jianwei spoke bluntly, "Have the Mei and Yi families ever intermarried?"

Mei Jiuyi: "..."

Yi Baige: "..."

"Is it a difficult question?" Lu Jianwei pressed. "I assume it must have happened."

Back at the Free and Easy Sect, Helian Zheng had deliberately claimed she had ties to several reclusive sects to incite greed among the martial artists. That suggested such practices existed.

How else could one have multiple powerful backers?

Simply by having grandparents and great-grandparents from four different sects.

"If you don’t even know this, are you truly not from a reclusive sect?" Yi Baige eyed her suspiciously. "But if you’re not, how do you know the art of concealing your presence?"

Lu Jianwei: "Is that a problem?"

Pei Zhi and Liang Shangjun could do it too.

"Baige, invite our guests inside." A hoarse voice called from a nearby courtyard.

Yi Baige immediately responded respectfully, "Yes."

He led the four into the modest farmhouse.

In the courtyard, an elderly man reclined on a rattan chair, cradling a small teapot. Dressed in coarse, earth-toned clothing, his hair and beard were streaked with white, his face deeply lined.

He rocked gently in his chair, exuding not a trace of internal energy—utterly indistinguishable from an ordinary old villager.

"Grandfather," Yi Baige said softly, "the guests are here."

The old man opened his eyes. Beneath his wrinkled eyelids, his gaze was serene yet profound, as if he had witnessed the vicissitudes of life and emerged with a transcendent calm.

His eyes swept over the group before settling on Lu Jianwei.

"Young friend, your skill in concealing your presence is unparalleled in my lifetime. Your origins are too mysterious—I cannot fathom them."

Yi Baige was startled. "Grandfather, does that mean she isn’t from another sect?"

"Not necessarily," the old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps there are even more hidden places in this world, unknown to us."

Yi Baige considered this. Human understanding had its limits.

White Cloud Village was a mystery to outsiders, but who was to say there weren’t other hidden utopias?

"Young friends, please sit." The old man instructed Yi Baige to bring out four bamboo chairs and served tea. "This is wild tea we cultivate ourselves. Try it."

The land here wasn’t suited for tea, yet White Cloud Village defied convention, cultivating unique tea plants in the mountains.

Lu Jianwei took a sip. It had a distinctive charm.

"Excellent tea."

"Still not as good as your wine," Xu Sanzuo gulped down a cup, smacking his lips in dissatisfaction.

The old man laughed heartily. "No need to rush. When we serve dinner, you can drink to your heart’s content."

"You’re much more generous than your grandson," Xu Sanzuo remarked without restraint.

The old man then studied Pei Zhi. "You look familiar."

"I’ve never had the honor of meeting you, elder," Pei Zhi replied. His memory was sharp, yet he recalled no image of this man.

The old man scrutinized him. "You resemble a young girl I once knew—no, wait. After all these years, she’s no longer a girl."

Pei Zhi understood. "You must be referring to my maternal grandmother."

He bore some resemblance to his imperial uncle, who in turn took after his mother, hence the similarity to his grandmother.

"She would indeed be old enough to be your grandmother," the old man said kindly. "How is she now?"

Pei Zhi: "She passed away before I was born."

"She was exceptionally talented," the old man sighed. "Ah, well. Life and death are fated."

Lu Jianwei’s thoughts wandered. The current emperor’s mother had been a consort of the Former Emperor.

Would a woman of extraordinary talent die so young?

The whirlpool of power was indeed treacherous.

No wonder Pei Zhi knew the art of concealment—it must have been passed down through his grandmother’s martial manuals.

"Young friend of the Mei family..." The old man’s gaze, vast as the ocean, settled on Mei Jiuyi. "I’m only a few years your senior, so ‘young friend’ doesn’t quite fit. Let me call you Brother Mei instead."

Mei Jiuyi laughed ruefully. "Elder Yi, you’ve exposed me in front of the younger generation. How embarrassing."

"Age is nothing to be ashamed of," Elder Yi said dismissively. "I’ve long heard of the Mei family’s prodigy—roaming the martial world in his twenties, reaching the eighth rank of Martial Lord by thirty, and now a quasi-Grandmaster."

Mei Jiuyi: "I’m unworthy of such praise. Compared to the two young friends here, I’m no genius."

Pei Zhi, not yet thirty, was already an eighth-rank late-stage Martial Lord.

Lu Jianwei was even more astounding—a ninth-rank mid-stage Martial Lord at twenty-seven.

Xu Sanzuo was dumbfounded. "Mei, just how old are you?!"

"Eighty-eight."

"..."

Lu Jianwei and Pei Zhi exchanged glances, equally surprised.

To the eye, Mei Jiuyi appeared no older than fifty, and neither his speech nor demeanor betrayed his advanced age.

Elder Yi, only a few years his senior, carried himself as a man weathered by time. Mei Jiuyi’s vitality was remarkable.

"Baige," Elder Yi suddenly called.

Yi Baige emerged from the house. "Yes, Grandfather?"

"Another guest has arrived outside the village. Go and welcome him."

"​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‍Understood."

Lu Jianwei sensed it too—the newcomer was a ninth-rank Martial Lord.

"I already know why you’ve come," Elder Yi said with a sigh. "It’s for the Earth Lotus of the Seven-Step Marsh, isn’t it?"

"I merely came to enjoy the spectacle," Mei Jiuyi said, fanning himself with a feathered fan. "Wherever Manager Lu goes, there’s never a shortage of excitement."

Old Yi’s eyes darkened slightly. "Young Master Mei’s fondness for lively affairs is well-known to this old man. But reclusive sects must not interfere in the affairs of the martial world—that is the rule."

"I’ve always been a spectator, never meddling in the matters of the jianghu."

No sooner had he spoken than a figure strode into the courtyard, his gaze fixed fiercely on Mei Jiuyi, nearly grinding his teeth.

"At last, I’ve found you, Master."