The players wasted no time getting started, and high and low were quickly determined. Those who snagged the heavenly character rooms were the real grinders—like Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny, Salty Fish King, and Bloody Baron. These were the monsters who logged eight hours of grinding every day, and ordinary players stood no chance against them.
With the heavenly character rooms closest to Ruan Xuezong off the table, the players turned their attention to the next best option: the earthly character rooms. In an instant, they began sparring once more.
That’s right—they weren’t fighting. Actual fights would deduct points from Ruan Xuezong’s favorability.
Five points per infraction. It was enough to make one’s heart ache.
So the players opted for “sparring” instead. The earthly character room contenders were soon weeded out; they were the second-string grinders. After that came the mysterious character rooms, yellow character rooms, grand dormitories, woodsheds, sleeping mats in the main hall, and finally, stargazing and chitchat on the rooftop all night long.
The inn waiter approached, wiping away cold sweat. “Esteemed guests, have you made your decisions?” He was genuinely worried that these young heroes might stir up more trouble and draw the attention of the Six Gates constables. What would become of his business then?
“We’re all set,” the players replied in perfect unison.
The inn waiter bowed and scraped obsequiously. “Then allow me to show you the way. Our establishment may not match the grandeur of the Drunken Immortal Tower, but it’s one of the most splendid inns in Jinling City—seven stories tall, no less. On ordinary days, nobles, young lords, scholars, and poets flock here, leaving their verses inscribed on the walls. Lately, though, with so many martial artists around, they’ve been staying away.”
The players poked around the inn and found its decor fitting the description: vermilion doors with embroidered lattice windows, dazzling lanterns and candles everywhere. It was indeed opulent and steeped in classical charm. And the inn waiter hadn’t exaggerated—guests came and went in a constant stream, a real mix of all sorts rubbing shoulders.
Even just the martial artists dining in the main hall wielded an assortment of weapons: broadswords, long whips, iron hammers, spiked maces, you name it. Every one of them ranged from level forty to sixty. Any could crush a player without breaking a sweat. And then there was that young man they’d glimpsed earlier, with three question marks hovering over his head.
The players huddled together, murmuring. “A little inn like this, packed with experts. Hidden tigers and crouching dragons everywhere!”
“Given the plot patterns, this brewing storm means a ninety-nine percent chance something’s about to go down.”
“No way—that exciting?”
“@ recording team, time to get to work!”
By dinnertime, Ruan Xuezong and Shen Jiangling had come downstairs to eat.
The hall was packed to the rafters, thick with an undercurrent of tension, like a strange underflow surging beneath a mighty river. Ruan Xuezong sensed trouble brewing—and sure enough, no sooner had he taken his seat than a clamor erupted from upstairs, accompanied by chaotic footsteps and the inn waiter’s pained voice: “Esteemed guest, please don’t do that.”
Ruan Xuezong exchanged a glance with Shen Jiangling. The wanderer offered a faint smile but said nothing.
Ruan Xuezong shot a meaningful look at one of the players, who caught on immediately and soon returned with the news. “Got the scoop. The occupant of Heavenly Character Room Number One is the son of a wealthy city merchant. He’s gotten obsessed with martial arts lately, so his father procured a priceless treasured sword for him. He couldn’t bear to part with it, but during his afternoon nap—from one to three—he woke to find it stolen. The young master flew into a rage, insisting someone in the inn must have taken it. He’s demanding a full search of every room, starting with the heavenly character ones!”
“A treasured sword stolen again. Could it be the work of the Demonic Sects?” Shen Jiangling’s thick brows furrowed as he subconsciously fanned himself with his paper fan, as if a cool breeze might carry some vital clue.
“Very possible,” Ruan Xuezong replied.
Given what he knew of the Demonic Sects’ riffraff, he wouldn’t put petty theft past them. The only surprise was that they’d steal a sword from a powerless rich kid without silencing him afterward—the same sect that had wiped out an entire stronghold like Clear Wind Fishing Ground. So it might not be them after all. More likely, some greedy soul in the inn had their eye on the sword’s value and made off with it.
A moment later, a thought struck Ruan Xuezong. The stolen sword had been in Heavenly Character Room Number One, while he occupied Number Seven. If they were searching rooms, his was squarely in their path.
At the realization, his face hardened beneath the mask. He sensed something amiss.
Sure enough, the rich merchant’s son soon started bellowing again. “I’ve checked Rooms Two through Six—everyone opened up. Who’s in Number Seven? Tell them to open the door and let this young master inspect!”
“Esteemed guest, you really can’t do that. It’s not right to barge into other patrons’ rooms,” the inn waiter pleaded desperately. “The guest in Number Seven is downstairs having dinner.”
“Fine, then. I’ll go have a word with him myself!” The merchant’s son was clearly spoiled and willful. With that shout, he followed the inn waiter’s directions straight to Ruan Xuezong.
In an instant, every eye in the hall turned to Ruan Xuezong’s table.
The players quickly pieced it together and jumped to their feet. “How dare you! Who do you think you are, demanding to search Zongzong’s room on a whim?”
The rich young master curled his lip in disdain. “This young master’s name rings through Jinling City—you nobodies from out of town don’t deserve to know it. I just want to inspect your master’s room and see if he’s hiding my priceless treasured sword. Refuse to open, and it’s a sure sign of guilt. Want a search warrant? My father’s sworn brothers with Head Constable Zheng of the Six Gates. If he comes sniffing around this theft, he’ll throw you rivers-and-lakes hotheads straight into jail!”
Holy crap—a level-twenty NPC acting this arrogant with such a powerful backstory.
The players figured this had to be part of the game plot.
“Did you search Room Four too?” Ruan Xuezong interjected suddenly. When the young master fell silent, he let out a faint, scoffing laugh. “So you’re just a bully who picks on the weak and fears the strong.”
The players caught on in a flash. Room Four belonged to that young man with the question marks over his head—and there he was in the main hall, casually nursing a drink. His aura was overwhelming; he claimed an entire four-cornered red table for himself, and no one dared share it.
As Ruan Xuezong turned the tables on him, the young man set down his cup. A playful smile tugged at his lips, as if he were itching for chaos. “Indeed, he didn’t search my room.”
“No wonder,” Ruan Xuezong said coolly. “I’m still young, my retainers are green in the martial arts with shallow cultivation. It’s easy for folks in the rivers and lakes to look down on us.”
The words struck home like an arrow. The rich young master’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment, his lips mumbling as if in humiliated fury.
But Ruan Xuezong wasn’t finished. Still seated, posture as steady as a mountain, he flicked out a palm strike.
It was a palm light as drifting cloud, launched without a second glance. The rich young master jumped in terror. The strike hurtled forward with lethal edge, slicing past his cheekbone like an icy blade in an instant. It whipped up the hair at his temples before slamming into the row of tables and chairs behind him.
With a thunderous crash, they splintered into a heap of ruined wood.
The feat left the entire hall speechless, faces etched with shock and awe.
“That was a palm strike of stunning brilliance, reaching the peak of mid-tier martial prowess,” Shen Jiangling remarked. Famous across the land, his striking features were unmistakable in Jinling City, and many in the crowd recognized him.
Praise from his lips carried real weight. No one had imagined that the heir to the long-faded Heart Washing Manor could be such a reclusive martial prodigy—and he was only eighteen or nineteen, not even twenty yet!
The realization sent ripples of alarm through the assembled factions. No one dared underestimate him now.
Faced with that dominating killing intent, the rich young master’s face drained white. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. His servant rushed over to help him up. “Young master, we can’t afford to provoke Heart Washing Manor. They’re unlikely to be the thieves. Let’s search the other rooms.”
The words served as both reminder and out. The young master snapped awake, scrambling to his feet. “R-right, good.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead as his servants half-carried his rigid form away. To the onlookers, he looked every inch the pathetic clown, slinking off after a failed provocation.
Rivers-and-lakes folk had little love for spoiled princelings with official backing. They let him retreat like a dog with its tail between its legs, peppered with mocking snickers.
The players erupted in cheers. Amid the crowd, a pretty girl in green robes laughed brightly. “Young Master Ruan, you’re quite the prodigy for your age!”
Only Ruan Xuezong noticed something off.
He saw the supposedly mediocre rich young master maintain his pose of humiliated fear amid the hall’s laughter. But once he was out of earshot, he slowly straightened up, chest puffing out. The timid expression vanished, replaced by a peculiar smile.
A smile that smacked of a scheme succeeding.
Ruan Xuezong realized he’d walked into a trap.
This man wasn’t some arrogant, spoiled brat puffed up by a smattering of martial arts. He hadn’t clumsily provoked him out of ignorance. No—angering him had likely been the goal all along.
Who the hell had sent him? And what was the point?
Ruan Xuezong’s mood soured like he’d swallowed a fly. He returned to his room to rest. The inn waiter brought his meal, but he barely touched it, though he did down quite a bit of peach blossom brew.
Late into the night, as he prepared for bed—
A noise sounded by his ear. “Who’s there?” he said coldly.
Before the words had fully left his mouth, a figure leaped in through the window: a green-robed girl with skin whiter than snow and peerless beauty. Far from panicked at being caught, she smiled lightly, her face blooming with pure, lotus-like clarity. “Young Master Ruan, your senses are sharp indeed. My stealth skills are second to none in the rivers and lakes, yet you spotted me.”
Sensing no killing intent from her, Ruan Xuezong made no move.
“What do you want?”
“You fool. A beautiful girl sneaks into a man’s room in the dead of night—what do you think?” She blinked playfully.
Unseen behind the screen, Ruan Xuezong’s expression turned profoundly awkward for a moment before smoothing over.
He knew better. Moonlit trysts with swooning swordswomen were the original protagonist’s territory. For a villain like him, any woman drawing near was either an assassin with ulterior motives or a spy.
With that in mind, he lost all interest in banter. “It’s midnight. Out with it.”
“You’re too dense when it comes to romance, Young Master—facing a girl who admires you like this?” The green-robed girl complained softly, sounding a touch peeved. Her prized looks weren’t working.
Ruan Xuezong remained impassive. “One last time: who sent you, and why?”
As his palm began to rise, she dropped the coquetry. “That person instructed me—Green Apricot—to pose as an admirer and seduce you with my charms. Ideally, stay in your room for at least the time it takes to brew a cup of tea. A personal token afterward would be perfect.”
“Just as I thought—it was her.” Ruan Xuezong rubbed his face, expressionless. “Have a seat, then. Leave after a cup of tea’s worth.”
Green Apricot had been biting her lip in trepidation, but at his words, she froze—then broke into delight. “Really?”
She perched obediently on an embroidered stool. “Truth be told, my employer means no harm. She’s just proud and hopes for a suitor worthy of her. Put myself in her shoes, I get it…”
“I know her game,” Ruan Xuezong cut in. “No point making trouble for you—someone else would come along, a Yellow Apricot or Red Apricot. Here’s your token: a jade pendant I carry on me. It’ll cover your report.”
He emerged from behind the screen.
Ruan Xuezong had been preparing for bed, so his mask was off. The face restored by the face restoring pill gleamed in the candlelight: skin like piled snow, the thin ends of his eyes hazy with the drunken flush of peach blossoms from the evening’s drink. It was breathtaking.
Green Apricot had been chattering away, but the moment their eyes met, her voice cut off.
“????” What the—? Who was this man? Where was Ruan Xuezong? Green Apricot stared blankly as she took the pendant. In that instant, the cool jade in her hand felt less like a trinket and more like a treasure handed down by a celestial immortal.
She could no longer fathom her employer’s thinking—and suddenly understood why her honey trap had failed.
“Time’s up. Off you go,” Ruan Xuezong said curtly, shooing her out. She’d entered with professional poise and a charming smile, but now she left dazed and stumbling, soul adrift.
He extinguished the candle and turned in.
He slept soundly that night. In his dreams, though, he seemed to hear the faint, resentful wail of a xiao flute. He awoke the next morning to the inn waiter’s piercing scream.
