No Fighting Allowed in the Inn

◎The Dagger is Unsheathed—I Can’t Wait◎

The next day, the fifth-level martial artists began their competition.

Liang Shangjun, representing the Eight Directions Inn, drew the sixth group. His opponent was a burly young man wielding a massive hammer, a disciple of the Black Wind Fort.

As the number one thief in the martial world, Liang Shangjun’s skills in evasion and escape far surpassed his other combat techniques. If he wanted to flee, no ordinary person could catch up—even on the arena stage.

After the time it took to burn an incense stick, the hammer-wielding youth hadn’t even managed to graze Liang Shangjun’s sleeve, his face flushing purple with rage as he slammed his hammer repeatedly into the stage.

The stage was made of ordinary stone and couldn’t withstand the repeated heavy blows. To prevent damage, Lu Jianwei used an inn prop to neutralize the force of the hammer strikes.

It took a few hits before the young man realized something was wrong.

What was this stage made of? How was it so sturdy?

Experts could tell that someone had secretly dissipated the force of the hammer strikes—effortlessly, without a trace, and without revealing their presence.

In a corner of the spectator stands, Mei Sixian set down his brush and closed his eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. After a few breaths, he reopened them, a hint of confusion flickering in his gaze.

Xiao Ke monitored his reaction in real-time, displaying it on the screen.

"Nice work," Lu Jianwei praised inwardly with a laugh. "Your props are quite convincing."

Xiao Ke replied proudly, "Of course."

Referee Zhuang Wenqing announced, "Passive combat during a match will result in disqualification."

Liang Shangjun: "..."

Forget it—for the second volume of the disguise manual, he’d go all out!

He pulled out a cylindrical weapon from his chest, about the length of a finger and the thickness of a thumb. Pressing a mechanism at its base, the object transformed instantly, extending into a segmented rod, each section nested within the next, tapering toward the tip.

The rod was forged from intricate mechanisms, interlocking segments moving with eerie flexibility. Made of tempered steel, it was incredibly sturdy, yet the tip could bend like a serpent’s tongue, changing direction at will.

"What a peculiar weapon," Lu Jianwei remarked to Xiao Ke. "I always suspected he came from an extraordinary background—seems I wasn’t wrong."

A weapon like this was clearly custom-made. Without vast resources and connections, who would go to such lengths to craft something so unique?

Xiao Ke scoffed. "It’s nothing special. If one mechanism fails, the whole thing’s useless."

"I see," Lu Jianwei humored its pride. "Our Xiao Ke is still the best."

Liang Shangjun’s weapon also drew attention from others.

"Brother Shangguan, with your vast knowledge, have you ever seen such a weapon?" Yan Buyou asked.

Shangguan Huai shook his head with a smile. "Never before."

"Elder Zhao of the Sky Pillar Sect, with your extensive experience, do you know what this is?" Zhao Xian stroked his beard, chuckling.

Lu Jianwei replied, "I’m still young—how could I dare claim ‘extensive experience’ in front of Elder Zhao? Would you enlighten us?"

"You’re too modest, Innkeeper Lu," Zhao Xian said before falling silent.

On the stage, Liang Shangjun wielded his strange weapon, darting around his opponent with effortless grace. The steel rod tapped lightly against the hammer-wielder’s shoulders and chest—like a tickle, so faint the young man barely felt it.

One was a mountain of brute strength, the other a fox of agility. Both were at the late fifth-level, making the fight a deadlock.

But in terms of skill and combat awareness, Liang Shangjun far outmatched his opponent.

Around the inn, he’d always been carefree and never showed his true abilities, leaving everyone in the dark about his real prowess.

Now, with just a glimpse of his skill, he left the crowd in awe.

From Lu Jianwei’s perspective, his techniques had only minor flaws—imperceptible to most fighters, which was why his opponent couldn’t counter despite being toyed with.

Not only that, his anticipation was exceptional. He predicted his opponent’s moves and cut off every avenue of attack, forcing the hammer-wielder to spin in place.

The young man’s face turned red with frustration as he swung wildly at Liang Shangjun’s elusive figure.

"Stop dodging! Fight me head-on!"

"I’m not dodging—I’m looking for an opening," Liang Shangjun teased, grinning as he found a gap. "Last move—here it comes!"

The rod’s tip tapped the young man’s shoulder—a feather-light touch, yet carrying the weight of a mountain.

Every prior strike had been preparation for this final blow.

Before the hammer-wielder could react, his body stiffened completely. His hammer crashed to the ground as he toppled backward, eyes wide, rigid as a board.

Liang Shangjun caught the back of his head with his foot before gently lowering him to the ground.

Three breaths passed—no movement.

Zhuang Wenqing declared, "Liang Shangjun of the Eight Directions Inn wins."

Liang Shangjun clasped his hands with a grin. "Good match, brother."

He retracted the rod and tucked it back into his chest, ready to leap off the stage and await the next draw.

"Wait," Black Wind Fort’s leader, Hei Zhan, called out. "When will he recover?"

Liang Shangjun: "After an incense stick’s worth of time."

Disciples from Black Wind Fort promptly carried the young man away.

Chin held high, Liang Shangjun returned to the Eight Directions Inn’s seating area, squeezing next to A'Nai. "So? Not bad, right?"

"Meh. Looked pretty boring," A'Nai said, feigning disinterest.

Liang Shangjun: "..."

He turned to Yan Feicang. "How’d I do?"

Yan Feicang answered honestly, "Your footwork was impeccable. No openings."

"Spoken like the number one blade master in the martial world—music to my ears."

"Still boring, though."

"..."

Liang Shangjun slumped back, sulking. His style wasn’t about brute force anyway.

A win was a win.

After so long without a proper fight, the exertion left him drained. He reclined in his chair, eyes closed, basking in the sunlight.

As the referee announced the next match, he paid no attention, unaware of who was competing.

The warm sun was perfect for a nap.

He pulled out an empty snack bag and draped it over his eyes, gradually dozing off amid the arena’s clamor.

Suddenly, a crisp, piercing flute melody surged toward him, rudely jolting him awake.

He Lianxue?

He yanked off the snack bag and blinked.

On stage stood a man and a woman—the male fighter in Luzhou Academy’s uniform, slender and tall; the female fighter draped in white, breathtakingly beautiful.

Glancing around, he noticed many young male fighters staring, spellbound.

The flute’s melody lingered over the arena, ensnaring countless spectators—including the Luzhou Academy disciple on stage.

Before stepping up, he’d been brimming with confidence. As a disciple of Luzhou Academy, he prided himself on spotting flaws in his opponents.

But the moment he saw his opponent was He Lianxue, his composure shattered.

He Lianxue—the most beautiful woman in the martial world. How could he not have heard of her?

From the first time he laid eyes on her, he’d been hopelessly smitten.

Now, under the spell of her flute, he forgot he was in a match, staring dumbstruck at the snow-white vision before him.

He Lianxue: ???

Her flute did have a mesmerizing effect, but was her opponent really going to just stand there and take it?

Zhuang Wenqing declared, "If both parties continue to passively engage in combat, the match will be deemed invalid."

He Lianxue had no choice but to draw the sword at her waist, her sleeves fluttering gracefully as she aimed for her opponent's neck.

Her opponent remained motionless, like prey caught in a trap that had given up struggling—even leaning forward to offer his neck willingly.

The blade rested against his throat, yet after three breaths, he still showed no resistance.

"Carefree Sect’s He Lianxue wins," Zhuang Wenqing announced.

The crowd: "..."

The entire arena snapped out of their daze, sinking into a prolonged silence.

Martial artists with profound inner strength, like Lu Jianwei, remained unaffected by the flute’s melody. However, the majority of young male fighters found themselves involuntarily entranced, their minds so ensnared they even forgot their own names.

While sonic attacks were a legitimate martial technique, none had ever witnessed one so overwhelmingly potent.

Something felt off.

He Lianxue stepped down from the stage, her brows slightly furrowed.

A sudden, inexplicable chill crawled up her spine, as if something lurked in the shadows, watching her.

A faint unease settled in her heart.

Zhuang Wenqing gave her a meaningful glance before proceeding to the next match.

Thirty-two martial artists participated in the fifth-tier competition, facing off in pairs with winners advancing to the next round of draws.

He Lianxue secured victory in every round with her flute’s melody, yet each triumph was met with the same eerie silence from the crowd.

Martial artists held no prejudice against sonic techniques, but He Lianxue’s skill was unnervingly dominant. If she were allowed to grow unchecked, future battles in the martial world might devolve into mere puppetry under the sway of her flute.

Of course, not all young male fighters succumbed to its allure. Most wandering martial artists and disciples from minor sects only experienced a brief mental haze before quickly regaining their senses.

They couldn’t fathom the infatuated expressions of their peers, privately priding themselves on their superior mental fortitude—believing those ensnared simply lacked resolve.

Lu Jianwei sat calmly in the host’s seat, her fingers idly toying with the glass beads on her wrist.

Little Mist, now a ninth-level Gu King, was just one step away from evolving into a Gu Emperor.

Logically, as the closest existence to a Gu Emperor, it should have been able to sense the Gu Emperor within He Lianxue. Yet it remained undetected.

The Gu Emperor was undoubtedly the most deeply concealed trump card.

Those seemingly "enchanted" sect disciples had likely been implanted with sub-gu through various means—unknowingly, during martial expeditions, sect exchanges, or even the martial alliance’s grand competitions.

This was clearly a scheme years in the making.

But to what end?

A new round of draws began.

This time, He Lianxue’s opponent was a wandering martial artist who, under the flute’s assault, only staggered for a few breaths before mustering his inner strength to resist, managing a few counterattacks.

Yet He Lianxue moved with agile grace, evading each strike effortlessly.

The wanderer intensified his assault, his blade slicing through the sonic barrier. The flute’s melody abruptly ceased, and the cold steel nearly grazed the beauty’s neck.

"Xue’er!"

"Xue’er!"

In that instant, numerous elite young fighters leaped into action, disregarding all tournament rules as they brandished their weapons and charged at the wanderer, a storm of attacks raining down upon him.

The wanderer, having not purchased insurance, faced the combined assault of fifth and sixth-tier martial artists with only one thought—

"My life is over!"

"Little Guest," Lu Jianwei commanded coolly.

A defensive mechanism activated instantly, shielding the wanderer from all attacks.

Though he hadn’t bought insurance, the blatant violation of tournament rules demanded intervention. Since this occurred within the Eight Directions Inn, the inn bore the responsibility of ensuring his safety.

An invisible force repelled the swarm of attackers, sparing the wanderer’s life.

Collapsing to the ground, he gasped for breath before kowtowing in gratitude.

"I humbly thank the senior for saving my life!"

Elders from various sects rose to their feet, their icy glares fixed on He Lianxue atop the stage.

He Lianxue stood bewildered, staring helplessly at the fighters below.

A realization struck Lu Jianwei, cutting through the fog of confusion to reveal the hidden thread of the scheme.

She smiled faintly. "Little Guest, I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Their plan."

"What plan?"

"To incite chaos and pin it on the perfect scapegoat."

Little Guest remained puzzled. "The scapegoat is He Lianxue? But why?"

"A crisis erupting in the inn forces us to intervene, and in doing so, we might expose our secrets," Lu Jianwei murmured, her eyes half-lidded. "If we fail to resolve it, our reputation plummets. If we deploy high-tier fighters to suppress it, they can deduce the true strength of our ‘master’s lineage.’"

"That’s all?"

"Of course not. This is likely just the surface-level goal."

"What will you do?"

"That depends on their next move." She added, "Keep an eye on Mei Sixian."

"Understood," Little Guest replied obediently. "He’s currently taking notes."

Given the circumstances, note-taking was a natural response.

As the young male fighters were flung off the stage, their identities became clear—many were elite disciples from major sects, including Bian Xingzhou and Zhao Rui.

Ying Chen of the Martial Alliance, Luo Wanchun of Qingyun Peak, Hei Zhan of Blackwind Fortress, and Shangguan Huai of Luzhou Academy personally retrieved their disciples.

Lu Jianwei observed keenly that only male fighters had been "enchanted."

Yet sonic attacks were gender-neutral. If the flute truly held such power, female fighters should have been equally affected.

Just as during their first encounter at the Pavilion of Unrestrained Joy, even her own ears had burned at He Lianxue’s voice.

Sound controlled indiscriminately—but Gu did not.

Someone was using He Lianxue’s flute as a cover to covertly manipulate the sub-gu within these male fighters, creating the illusion that her melody alone had ensnared them.

But one question remained: among the fighters who stormed the stage, Xu Cheng was conspicuously absent.

Xu Cheng had clearly been controlled the previous day, yet today he remained unaffected by He Lianxue. This suggested the mother Gu controlling his sub-gu was not the same as the one within He Lianxue.

If He Lianxue harbored a Love Gu, everything fell into place.

The disciples had rushed the stage because He Lianxue’s life was threatened—precisely the effect of a Love Gu.

Unlike Hunting Gu or Puppet Gu, a Love Gu required no active manipulation once matured. It simply resided within its host, naturally attracting sub-gu.

The Gu’s master needed only to sense whether it lived or died.

Hosts of sub-gu, upon encountering the host of the mother Gu, would fall deeply infatuated under its influence, instinctively protecting her when danger arose.

The title of "Martial World’s Most Beautiful Woman," paired with a mind-bending sonic skill, made for the perfect disguise.

If Lu Jianwei’s guess was correct, Xu Cheng’s body housed a sub-gu of the Puppet Gu Emperor.

On the stage, he had initially intended to concede, only for the Puppet Gu Emperor to seize control, driving him to attempt Xue Guanhe’s murder.

The Love Gu Emperor resided within He Lianxue, while the master of the Puppet Gu Emperor remained unknown—for now.

Even if someone used gu to stir up trouble, everyone would instinctively assume it was He Lianxue’s doing, while the true mastermind controlling the Puppet Gu Emperor remained perfectly hidden.

"Xie Tongshu, what kind of martial arts exactly does your sect’s He Lianxue practice?" Zhao Xian asked with a stern expression. "Why does it have such a bewitching effect?"

In the martial world, He Lianxue wasn’t the only one who practiced sound-based attacks, but no one else possessed her level of hypnotic power.

Where there was abnormality, there was deceit.

The elders of various sects echoed the sentiment. Concerned for their disciples’ safety, their desire to investigate was understandable.

Xie Tongshu responded coldly, "Those with weak wills should reflect on themselves."

The crowd: "..."

Such blatant favoritism wasn’t appropriate, was it?

They then turned to the host for an opinion.

"Manager Lu, what do you think?"

Lu Jianwei replied indifferently, "There are also young martial artists who remained unaffected."

The crowd: "..."

So it was still their disciples’ lack of discipline to blame?

Lu Jianwei continued, "Sect Leader Zhuang, let the competition proceed."

"Manager Lu, the previous match wasn’t concluded," Zhuang Wenqing said. "How should we determine the outcome?"

Lu Jianwei deliberately replied, "Ask both parties if they wish to continue. If they do, restart the match and decide the winner. If not, based on the previous situation, He Lianxue loses."

Zhuang Wenqing then asked the two if they wanted to continue.

The rogue fighter, still shaken from the earlier scare, quickly shook his head. He Lianxue tightened her grip on her jade flute and also shook her head.

After a brief silence, Zhuang Wenqing said, "Isn’t this a bit unfair?"

"Unfair!"

"Exactly! Why should Snow lose outright?"

"​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍Rematch!"

The young male martial artists erupted in outrage, their voices rising in waves, their eyes brimming with adoration for He Lianxue.

The elders wished they could gag them.

Disgraceful.

They had heard rumors of the younger generation chasing after the "Number One Beauty," but they’d dismissed it as youthful infatuation.

Who knew it would reach such a frenzied level?

In the audience, Ying Wumian pressed Bian Xingzhou down and sealed his acupoint before he could speak.

"Idiot."

Bian Xingzhou: "..."

He was standing up for Snow—how was that idiotic?

Zhao Rui was also restrained, but as Zhao Xian’s son, no one dared to lay a hand on him. The pressure of a sixth-level martial master flared, overwhelming his peers and even injuring a few disciples.

Ignoring the chaos, he roared furiously, "Snow, don’t be afraid! I won’t let anyone bully you!"

Inspired by his outburst, the other young men clenched their fists and joined in.

"Whoever dares to hurt Snow will answer to me!"

"How can you bear to harm Snow?!"

"Snow, I’ll save you!"

The elders’ beards trembled with rage.

Utterly shameless!

Meanwhile, the physicians of the Divine Doctor Valley took advantage of the chaos to "rescue" people—or rather, to claim those injured in the scuffle.

Each person represented a Benevolence Pearl, and they needed ten to qualify for learning the "Soul-Separating Needle Technique" at the academy.

Arguments broke out among them.

"This one’s mine!"

"I saw him first!"

"Hand him over!"

The scene descended into pandemonium.

He Lianxue stood alone on the platform, staring bewildered at the escalating madness below. For a moment, she wondered if she was attending a grand competition or an absurd farce.

"Xiao Ke, activate the attack tool," Lu Jianwei said, thoroughly annoyed by the noise.

The tool instantly suppressed all sound, forcing the frenzied young men face-first into the ground.

Under the overwhelming force of the peak eighth-level tool, they couldn’t lift their heads or speak, only gasp violently.

Silence fell over the arena.

After a few breaths, Zhuang Wenqing asked, "Manager Lu, what is the meaning of this?"

"It was too noisy," Lu Jianwei replied lazily, reclining in her seat. "Sect Leader Zhuang, do you enjoy such clamor?"

"Not at all. But isn’t your action somewhat unfair?"

"Fair?" Lu Jianwei chuckled. "Sect Leader Zhuang is lecturing me on fairness?"

"I don’t understand your meaning."

"They disrupted the rules of the arena. I merely subdued their arrogance. Where is the unfairness?"

"You declared He Lianxue the loser outright. They were merely impassioned—young people are hot-blooded. Was it necessary to humiliate them like this?"

Lu Jianwei smiled. "Apologies. I, too, am young."

"..."

Someone stifled a laugh before quickly falling silent.

Zhuang Wenqing turned to the other experts. "What do you all think?"

"He Lianxue, step down," Xie Tongshu commanded directly.

He Lianxue lowered her head and turned to leave.

"Wait," Zhao Xian interjected solemnly. "Xie Tongshu, I understand protecting your sect’s disciple, but everyone witnessed what happened. He Lianxue’s martial arts differ from ordinary sound-based attacks. I must ask—has your sect taught her forbidden techniques?"

Xie Tongshu’s gaze turned icy. "What are you implying?"

"Why won’t you answer?" Zhao Xian pressed.

The two sat on either side of Lu Jianwei, their glares clashing over her. The oppressive aura of eighth-level martial kings weighed heavily on the crowd, with Lu Jianwei bearing the brunt.

But with her tool’s peak eighth-level power, she effortlessly dissolved the tension, forcing both men to relent.

"Accusations of forbidden techniques are too severe," Lu Jianwei said lightly. "Elder Zhao, without proof, why burden a young girl with such a label?"

"I’m not targeting her specifically—"

"Then you’re targeting the Carefree Sect? Elder Zhao, whatever grievances exist between the Heaven-Supporting Hall and the Carefree Sect, settle them privately. Don’t drag innocents into it."

"Innocent?" Zhao Xian scoffed. "Manager Lu, are you shielding someone clearly suspicious? This doesn’t align with your reputation as the 'Heroine of Justice.'"

Lu Jianwei smirked. "I never claimed that title. It’s just fiction from storytellers. I’m surprised you take it seriously, Elder Zhao."

"So you admit to shielding her?" Zhao Xian retorted.

Meanwhile, Yue Shu was puzzled.

"Why is Elder Zhao targeting He Lianxue?"

Liang Shangjun explained, "He’s not targeting her—he’s targeting the Carefree Sect. He Lianxue is the sect leader’s daughter. If she’s practicing forbidden arts, the sect’s reputation will suffer."

"Does he have a grudge against the sect?"

"Not him—the Heaven-Supporting Hall. Years ago outside Moonview City, an elder from each sect perished in battle. They’ve been enemies ever since."

"Why did they fight?"

"No one knows. But after that, the Heaven-Supporting Hall declined, and the Carefree Sect surpassed them."

"Surpassed?" Yue Shu exclaimed. "The Heaven-Supporting Hall was stronger before?"

"Of course. When they were at their peak, the Carefree Sect was just a minor faction."

Yue Shu nodded. "I see."

The grudge explained Zhao Xian’s relentless pursuit of the Carefree Sect’s "missteps."

Listening to Xiao Ke’s relay, Lu Jianwei mused inwardly, If Zhao Rui hadn’t also been infected by the sub-gu, I’d almost suspect Zhao Xian of being the mastermind.

The true manipulator didn’t want this to end, and Zhao Xian’s actions played right into their hands.

Or perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence.

Choosing He Lianxue was no accident—this very scene must have been part of that person’s plan.

By exploiting the feud between the Sky Pillar Hall and the Carefree Sect, they ensured the Carefree Sect couldn’t intervene in time to quell the chaos.

"Manager Lu, why the silence?" Zhao Xian asked.

Lu Jianwei smiled faintly. "I was just thinking—has Elder Zhao realized yet that someone’s been leading you by the nose?"

"..."

The elders stiffened, their expressions shifting.

Xie Tongshu abruptly stood, his sharp gaze sweeping the arena as he tried to pinpoint the mastermind behind this.

Zhao Xian’s face remained composed, but inwardly, his heart lurched.

He truly had stepped into someone else’s trap, becoming a pawn to destabilize the situation.

"Manager Lu, what exactly do you mean by that?"

Lu Jianwei merely said, "This match ends with He Lianxue’s loss. Proceed to the next round."

As the force suppressing them withdrew, Zhao Rui and the others finally regained movement. Their eyes were bloodshot from struggling, their faces flushed with frenzy.

Fellow disciples who tried to help them recoiled in alarm.

Even Bian Xingzhou, whose mute acupoint had been sealed, seemed to have lost all reason.

Ying Wumian knocked him out with a single punch and tossed him to the other junior disciples, ordering, "Take care of him."

The juniors: "..."

Some sects failed to restrain their frenzied disciples, while rogue martial artists, now unhinged, ran wild—most were fourth, fifth, or sixth-rank, with a handful of seventh-rank among them.

The destruction they wrought far exceeded expectations.

Young male warriors surged toward He Lianxue, colliding mid-charge, a seething mass of bodies.

Xu Cheng was among them, his madness even more violent than Zhao Rui’s group. They shoved and struck at each other, internal energy lashing out indiscriminately.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Lu Jianwei narrowed her eyes—the Puppet Gu had begun its havoc.

Just as the crowd moved to intervene, a crisp chime of bells rang out, growing louder, each note striking deep into their hearts.

Even the unaffected young warriors soon fell into endless hallucinations.

The slaughter had begun.

The higher-ranked elders remained untouched and attempted to rescue their deranged disciples—until two figures appeared atop the trees bordering the arena.

One wore crimson robes, silver bells chiming at her wrists—Lan Ling. The other, clad in black, wore a mask, his identity unknown, though his aura marked him as a late-stage eighth-rank Martial King.

Beyond the inn, a group of sixth and seventh-rank assassins in black were breaching the first line of defense—the formation.

The experts present couldn’t see them but sensed their presence.

"Manager Lu," Lan Ling giggled, "I’ve invited some friends to join the tournament. You won’t blame me, will you?"

"Of course not," Lu Jianwei arched a brow. "After all, it’s the Thousand Miles Tower covering their travel expenses in the end. Isn’t that right, Tower Master Zhuang?"

Zhuang Wenqing rose from the judges’ seat, about to leap into the air, when an overwhelming force pressed down on him.

"Tower Master Zhuang, no need to rush."

Zhuang Wenqing: "..."

Lu Jianwei toyed with the glass beads on her wrist, smiling. "I’m curious. Knowing the inn has a ninth-rank Martial King, why dare you still attack?"

"So many lives are at stake here," Lan Ling purred, her eyes glinting. "Even a ninth-rank Martial King can’t act recklessly without harming the innocent."

"Is that so?" Lu Jianwei drew her Frostwhisper Blade, battle intent erupting from her. "I look forward to it."