No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 95

"Can we talk now?"

"Mn." Wen Zhuzhi still did not move closer, maintaining a distance of several feet. "Pei was my mother’s surname."

Lu Jianwei: "If I recall correctly, Pei is also the imperial family name."

"My mother was the younger sister of the current emperor. She fell in love with a wandering martial artist. To cover up the scandal, the imperial family claimed the princess was frail and sent her to a Taoist temple outside the capital, never to be seen again."

"In reality, your mother left the capital with your father." Lu Jianwei nodded. "Understandable. Even if ruthless martial artists strike fear into common folk, the heroic figures in martial arts tales still inspire admiration."

A beauty’s affection for a hero was hardly surprising.

Wen Zhuzhi smiled faintly. "My father was only part of the reason. She had always longed to roam the martial world but was constrained by her status. The wandering martial artist merely gave her the opportunity she sought."

"What happened afterward? How did you end up poisoned?"

"Over twenty years ago, in Moonview City, Fengzhou, two ninth-level Martial Kings engaged in a duel, leaving countless innocent civilians homeless and dead. You must have heard of this."

Lu Jianwei nodded. "Guan He mentioned it—his mother told him. Yan Feicang also brought it up. One was a ninth-level swordsman from the Carefree Sect, the other a senior elder from the Qiantian Hall."

"The swordsman was my grandfather, also a senior elder of the Carefree Sect." Wen Zhuzhi’s expression remained calm. "At the time, the sect leader was on his deathbed, and the sect was undergoing a power struggle. The young master lacked talent and was unfit to lead, while the other elders watched like tigers eyeing their prey. The dying sect leader entrusted my grandfather with protecting the young master, but this only painted a target on his back."

Lu Jianwei raised a brow. "What does Qiantian Hall have to do with this? Why would their elder want your grandfather dead?"

"My apologies, but even I am unclear about the details."

"Then continue with what you do know."

"To protect the young master, both my father and mother were dragged into the conspiracy—myself included. In such turbulent times, they were caught off guard. Five poisons, from five different factions."

"Why use poison?" Lu Jianwei frowned. "Couldn’t the Carefree Sect procure an antidote?"

Wen Zhuzhi: "Perhaps because they couldn’t bear to watch their friends die by their own hands."

"..." Lu Jianwei was speechless. "Isn’t that hypocrisy? If they were willing to kill their friends, why put on such a show?"

"Mn. Hypocrisy." Wen Zhuzhi chuckled at her indignation before continuing. "The five poisons didn’t kill us immediately, but my parents sacrificed themselves to get me out."

"How did you survive?"

"My mother’s attendant smuggled me out of the Carefree Sect and contacted the capital. I was taken in by the imperial family. Strangely, the five poisons reached an equilibrium in my body—not immediately fatal, but they shortened my lifespan. The emperor ordered imperial physicians to devise a method, using silver needles to force the toxins to my face while I trained in martial arts to strengthen my body."

"But as time passed, the balanced poisons mutated into a new lethal toxin. The needle technique could no longer suppress its spread, and you were eventually forced to rely on your internal energy."

"Correct."

Lu Jianwei studied his expression carefully—there was no trace of sorrow, as if he were merely recounting someone else’s story.

"How did you become the Commander?"

"The imperial court had long planned to establish such a position but lacked capable martial artists to fill it. After the serial kidnapping cases, panic spread through the court and beyond. The emperor asked for my thoughts."

"And you agreed?"

Wen Zhuzhi met her gaze, his eyes warm yet profound.

"I had no reason to refuse."

Lu Jianwei understood his choice. People needed purpose—a genius martial artist, indebted to the imperial family, would naturally feel compelled to serve the court.

"Have you thought about revenge?"

"If the opportunity arises, I will seek justice for my parents and grandfather."

Lu Jianwei straightened, her expression solemn. "Tell me their names."

Wen Zhuzhi’s breath hitched, a flicker of hesitation crossing his brow. "Manager Lu wishes to avenge me?"

"Your vengeance is yours to take. If you truly cannot, then I’ll consider helping." She shrugged. "I’m just thinking—could the hidden threats lurking in the shadows be connected to the Carefree Sect? I need to be prepared."

Wen Zhuzhi exhaled. "Very well."

Over the next three days, the Buwa, Yi, and Miao tribes delivered their consultation fees and medicinal herbs.

Following the antidote recipe, Lu Jianwei ground the prepared herbs into powder and stored them in porcelain bottles.

The remaining surplus was entrusted to the tribesmen for delivery to the Eight Directions Inn in Dada City.

Her fee was ten thousand taels per treatment—forty-five patients from the Buwa tribe, fifteen from the Miao, and twenty from the Yi (the latter’s fees doubled). In total, one million taels.

The payment would be transferred via banking houses alongside the herb shipment.

"Manager Lu, tomorrow marks the blooming of the Withered White. After this, we may never meet again." Alehong presented a book. "You’ve aided our sect greatly, and I have little to offer in return. Knowing your talent in the art of gu, I’ve copied a treasured text from our sect—translated into your language. I hope you won’t disdain it."

"Of course not. Thank you for your generosity, Sect Leader." Lu Jianwei accepted it eagerly. "If I may ask—will the method used to capture the Gu Emperor still work?"

Alehong shook her head frankly. "It cannot be reused for some time."

Lu Jianwei understood—powerful techniques had cooldowns—but she pressed further. "How long?"

"At least a year, possibly five."

She abandoned the thought immediately.

The Withered White grew deep within Miao territory, located in the most infamous region of the southwest—Soulbreak Ridge.

Soulbreak Ridge teemed with venomous creatures and natural traps. No amount of antidotes could save an ordinary martial artist who ventured in.

Add to that the ever-present miasma.

In the southwest, only the Miao—familiar with the ridge’s miasma patterns, poisons, and herbs—dared to tread its depths.

Yet martial artists from the Central Plains, often prideful, dismissed the ridge as trivial. Lured by high rewards, they charged in recklessly—only to leave their souls behind.

Hence its name: Soulbreak.

In the southwest, Soul-Severing Ridge goes by another name.

"It's you Central Plains folk who are greedy and reckless, charging in without knowing anything—no wonder you lose your lives," Aleshu scoffed. "What 'Soul-Severing Ridge'? It's actually called 'Shenkemo.'"

Lu Jianwei asked, "What does that mean?"

"Life and death," Alehong replied gently, walking beside Lu Jianwei. "It can give life, but it can also take it away."

Medicinal herbs can heal and save lives, while poisons can kill.

"That does sound more fitting," Lu Jianwei nodded. "How much farther to Lin Congyue's former residence?"

"It's inside Soul-Severing Ridge," Alehong said, admiration in her eyes. "She was a resilient woman, a kind and compassionate physician."

Aleshu, his eyes reddened, spat out, "If it weren't for those bastards from the Carefree Sect, she wouldn’t have died! Every last one of them deserves death!"

"Aleshu," Alehong murmured in warning.

Lu Jianwei waved it off. "It’s fine. I’m actually quite curious—why do you say she was killed by the Carefree Sect?"

The version circulating in the martial world was that Lin Congyue had taken her own life after being surrounded by rogue fighters.

Aleshu snorted, unwilling to answer.

"You probably don’t know this, but in the Central Plains, Lin Congyue is now revered as a benevolent healer. Many have written books about her, even enshrining her memorial tablets, with incense offerings never ceasing."

"Really?!" Aleshu’s eyes widened.

Lu Jianwei smiled. "A little investigation would confirm it. Why would I lie to you?"

"But wasn’t she always called a demoness by Central Plains people? How did that suddenly—" Aleshu paused, realization dawning. "Was it you?"

She had mentioned before that one of the inn’s workers had ties to Lin Congyue.

Lu Jianwei chuckled. "While searching for an antidote, I accidentally uncovered the truth about what happened back then."

Aleshu fell silent for a long moment before speaking hoarsely, "She had a hard life back then, but she never resented anyone. Her heart was only devoted to medicine. I never dared ask about her life in the Central Plains—I was afraid I’d lose control and kill any Central Plains person I met."

Lu Jianwei listened quietly.

"She was a good person, nothing like those greedy, despicable Central Plains folk. When she needed herbs, she never barged into Shenkemo to pick them without permission. She always asked the tribe first. But she didn’t need to—she had saved so many of our people. Everyone loved her. She could’ve gone in whenever she wanted, yet she still asked every time."

"She really was a good person," Lu Jianwei thought—no, a truly selfless soul.

Aleshu wiped his tears, his voice thick. "It’s my fault. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I promised her—when the White at Dusk flowers bloomed, I’d take her to pick them. But during the Gu God Festival’s trials, I got hurt and passed out. By the time I woke and went to find her… she was already gone."

"This is so tragic," Lu Jianwei silently told Xiao Ke. "I can’t stand these cruel twists of fate."

Xiao Ke: "Wuuuuu…"

It was too heartbroken to speak.

"I searched all of Shenkemo, all of Dada City, but I couldn’t find her," Aleshu said bitterly. "Just when I was lost in despair, I overheard some Central Plains men talking. They said… they said—"

"What did they say?"

"They said, 'The demoness is finally dead.'" Tears spilled from Aleshu’s eyes. "I didn’t know what 'demoness' they meant—I only knew she had always avoided Central Plains people. I caught those bastards, scared them with my gu insects, and they confessed everything."

Ahead, a simple bamboo hut came into view. Ten years had weathered it, leaving it worn and desolate.

"They were all here to hunt her down. But she was skilled in medicine and poison, and she hid in Shenkemo. Those cowards didn’t dare enter, so they bribed the Carefree Sect to kill A-Yue when they fought over the White at Dusk."

Lu Jianwei: "…"

"The Carefree Sect already didn’t want outsiders taking the White at Dusk. Getting paid to eliminate a rival? Of course they agreed. They killed A-Yue, then left with their spoils from Shenkemo. I hate them! I want to slaughter every last one of them!"

Alehong placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her expression tender with pity.

A child of the Miao tribe should have been pure and simple, yet for love, he had left the Gu God Sect, becoming the so-called Hall Master of the Sacred Medicine Hall—just to target Central Plains people.

Lu Jianwei said, "Physician Lin took poison to end her own life. Before the truth came out, no one knew she had been cornered by Carefree Sect disciples. Even after her name was cleared, there wasn’t a single mention of the Carefree Sect’s involvement."

The Carefree Sect had vanished without a trace—truly befitting the world’s number one sect.

Aleshu stood before the bamboo hut, eyes brimming with guilt.

"I was always too late. I couldn’t protect her when she was in danger. When her belongings were ransacked and stolen, I couldn’t stop it. By the time I got here, the hut was empty. Those filthy scavengers!"

Lin Congyue’s possessions had been taken by Hu Jiuniang and Dou Ting. Both were now dead, and the items were in Tiao’s hands.

Lu Jianwei saw no need to tell him this.

"I couldn’t bear it, so I asked the tribe to redraw the territory lines," Aleshu said. "I didn’t want her resting place disturbed by those maggots after death."

Lu Jianwei sighed inwardly.

Though the ending was tragic, such sincere and passionate devotion was still deeply moving.

"How old were you ten years ago?"

"Eighteen."

Lin Congyue had been twenty-eight when she died—a ten-year gap. Yet the earnest young man had fallen for her without hesitation.

A decade later, that love had not faded. Instead, it had grown deeper, heavier.

This crumbling bamboo hut was all Aleshu had left to remember her by.

Lu Jianwei asked solemnly, "May I go inside?"

"You cleared her name. Of course." Aleshu pushed open the bamboo door. Its creak was slow and heavy, as if echoing from ten years past.

Inside, there was only a writing desk, a bamboo stool, and a low bed.

There ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍wasn’t much dust, nor any spiderwebs—someone must have come often to clean.

Words were carved into the bamboo walls, likely left by Lin Congyue back then. In the wilderness, with no spare paper or ink, she had used a knife to etch her thoughts into the bamboo.

Some were names of medicinal herbs, some were poisons, and others were theories on antidotes.

The ingredients for the "Journey to the Underworld" antidote were listed there—the final one being White at Dusk.

Reading these carvings was like seeing a thin, frail woman ten years ago, crouching or standing, wholly absorbed as she carved line after line.

All these marks shared one name.

—Compassion.

Lu Jianwei felt a surge of reverence.

"Manager Lu, the White at Dusk will bloom in one hour," Alehong reminded her.

Lu Jianwei snapped out of her thoughts. "Right."

To outsiders, Soul-Severing Ridge lived up to its name.

But to the Miao people, Shenkemo was not terrifying. In Alehong’s eyes, it was practically the Gu God Sect’s backyard.

With an eighth-level gu master leading the way, they encountered no dangers along the path.

After pouring out his heart, Aleshu felt much calmer and even began joking with Lu Jianwei.

"Why didn't you bring your Wen Zhuzhi this time? Aren’t you two usually inseparable?"

Lu Jianwei replied candidly, "His legs aren’t well."

"You’re an Eighth-Level Martial King, a renowned figure even in the Central Plains, and your medical skills are exceptional. You must have countless admirers—why settle for a cripple?"

"Aleshu," Alehong glanced at him, "mind your words."

Lu Jianwei countered with a smile, "You’re the grandson of a Gu God Sect elder, gifted and young. Surely, there are plenty of girls in your clan who adore you. So why are you infatuated with a Central Plains 'demoness'?"

"She’s not a demoness!"

"And he’s not a cripple."

Aleshu muttered, "...He still can’t walk."

"Why are you so fixated on my relationship with him?"

Aleshu sighed. "I’m just worried you’ll be deceived, like that despicable husband of Lin Congyue. Utterly revolting!"

"Thank you for your concern, but I’m not Lin Congyue." Lu Jianwei admired people like Lin Congyue but was inherently sparing with her kindness.

She would only extend a sliver of compassion if she was absolutely certain of her own safety.

If she couldn’t even protect herself, how could she protect others?

Aleshu conceded, "You and her... are indeed very different."

He let out a soft sigh and dropped the subject, shifting to a mocking tone. "I bet those Central Plains folks are already lurking near White in Remembrance."

The Soulbreak Ridge was vast. No matter how much the Miao Clan tried to block outsiders from entering, it was impossible to stop them completely.

Those from the Central Plains, eager for rare herbs and poisons, would always find a way in.

"Don’t worry," Alehong reassured him. "The clan has sent experts."

"Those Central Plains people love underhanded tricks. If they unite, even the elders might not hold them off."

"Manager Lu," Alehong said gently, "later, I may have to step in to drive those Central Plains people away. I hope you’ll understand."

Lu Jianwei thought for a moment. "Perhaps you won’t need to intervene personally."

"What do you mean?" Aleshu asked curiously. "Do you have a way to stop them from snatching the flowers?"

"Not exactly." Lu Jianwei smiled. "Let the tigers fight among themselves. With so many people vying for White in Remembrance, conflicts are inevitable."

Aleshu’s eyes lit up. "You mean we can just watch them tear each other apart?"

"Exactly. To counter the Miao Clan’s flower guardians, they’ll unite. But what if there are no guardians to resist?"

Alehong made a swift decision. "I’ll inform the elders to stand back and observe. No need to intervene."

The clan had always been too anxious, fearing loss if they didn’t act.

White in Remembrance bloomed once every ten years, yielding only ten flowers each time—far too few for the crowd.

Fighting was unavoidable.

By the time Lu Jianwei and the other two arrived near the flower’s location, they could sense over a hundred martial artists—Fifth, Sixth, and even Seventh-Level experts.

If this group united, even Alehong might struggle to hold them off.

Under Alehong’s guidance, the trio secured an excellent vantage point, hidden and with a clear view of the scene below.

The spot was nearly impossible for outsiders to detect.

As an Eighth-Level expert, Alehong could easily conceal herself. She also used perception gu to mask Aleshu’s presence, evading the senses of the Central Plains martial artists.

Meanwhile, Lu Jianwei channeled her Nameless Heart Technique, blending seamlessly into the surroundings.

From their elevated position, the three silently observed the commotion below.

White in Remembrance grew in a secluded valley—narrow, small, and uneven. Over a hundred people stood within, their sect affiliations clear from their distinct attire.

They eyed each other warily, tension thick in the air.

At the center stood a bare, stubby tree with ten branches, each crowned by a half-bloomed bud.

The petals were an unusual black, fading to white at the base—like hair graying from the roots.

When fully bloomed, the petals would turn entirely white, hence the name "White in Remembrance."

Legend claimed the flower wasn’t originally white. It changed after witnessing a tragic love story.

A woman waited beneath the tree for her lover’s return, only to receive his belongings after ten years. Heartbroken, her hair turned white overnight.

Moved, the tree’s blossoms shifted from black to white.

Whether the tale was true or not, the flower’s potency was undeniable.

The Central Plains sects sent disciples for two reasons: to seize the petals and to temper their juniors.

If Eighth-Level Martial Kings from these sects came personally, the Miao Clan wouldn’t stand a chance. But doing so would leave their own sects vulnerable.

Thus, Eighth-Level experts rarely intervened, maintaining a delicate balance in the martial world.

Someone as free-spirited as Lu Jianwei was a rarity.

Beneath the White in Remembrance tree, disciples whispered among themselves.

"Why did the Miao Clan experts retreat?"

"Are they afraid of us?"

"This is White in Remembrance—they wouldn’t just let us take it!"

"Could it be a trap?"

The Carefree Sect disciples, clad in white robes and wielding swords, appeared ethereal—yet they were just as driven by greed as the rest.

"Why hasn’t Senior Sister Xue'er arrived yet?"

"Without her, what if these southwestern barbarians summon insects and snakes?"

"What’s so scary about bugs? Just kill them."

"If we’re busy killing bugs, who’ll pick the flowers?"

Zhao Rui and Bian Xingzhou stood with their respective factions—Sky Pillar Hall and the Martial Alliance. Though they despised each other, both frowned in unison.

Xue'er really didn’t come.

Wasn’t she afraid of punishment from the sect?

What kind of spell did Manager Lu cast to change her so completely?

Only a quarter-hour remained until the flowers bloomed.

The disciples gripped their weapons, eyes locked on the tree, not daring to blink.

They were tense, wary of both missing the critical moment and being ambushed from behind.

Having trekked through Soulbreak Ridge to reach this point, they couldn’t afford any mistakes.

A sudden breeze swept through the valley, making the White in Remembrance sway as if warning the intruders to leave.

The buds slowly unfurled, and every heart raced with anticipation.

Lu Jianwei could have crushed them with her Eighth-Level aura, but who knew what tricks these major sects had up their sleeves?

Better to let them taste hope before despair.

"Xiao Ke, do you see the White in Remembrance?"

"I do. It’s... unusual."

"Can you replicate it?"

"What do you take me for?" Xiao Ke sounded offended. "I can’t conjure real flowers."

Lu Jianwei grinned. "I meant a convincing fake—identical in appearance, even sticking to the branches."

"This isn't entirely impossible, but it'll cost you."

"How much?"

"Ten taels of silver per flower."

"No problem. Make it quick."

"Don’t worry, I won’t delay you."

The deep black petals gradually faded, leaving only a faint hue at their tips.

The crowd held their breath.

It was almost time—

As if hearing the soft unfurling of petals in full bloom, in an instant, the petals turned frost-white.

Seize them!

Everyone lunged like starving wolves, fingers outstretched toward Gu Baitou, yet they quickly descended into chaos, thwarting each other with sneaky attacks.

Amid the melee, a figure so faint it was nearly imperceptible slipped past unnoticed. Before the others could reach the branches, she had already pocketed ten flowers.

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Lu Jianwei’s peerless lightness skill, "No Questioning of Time," combined with her top-tier thieving technique, "Cloud-Brushing Hand," allowed her to pluck Gu Baitou in mere moments—while ten decoy flowers now adorned the branches in their place.

She returned to her spot with effortless grace, while the martial artists below remained oblivious, still locked in fierce combat.

Luckily, the fake flowers masked the theft. Had the branches been left bare, the crowd would have noticed immediately and turned their fury on the thief, making her escape far less smooth.

Alehong and Aleshu exchanged bewildered glances.

Had she succeeded or not?

Under their puzzled gazes, Lu Jianwei took out a single snow-white petal, crushed it into powder, and mixed it into a prepared vial of medicine.

Freshly picked Gu Baitou would yield the most potent effects.

Satisfied, she sealed the vial and discreetly stored it in her system inventory. Then she retrieved the remaining Gu Baitou and offered it to Alehong.

"I studied Gu Baitou’s appearance beforehand and prepared fakes to fool them. I’ve taken what I need—the rest should be returned to the Miao tribe."

Alehong hesitated. "Only someone like you could pull this off. Since you were the one who retrieved them, they’re rightfully yours."

Had Lu Jianwei not intervened during the Gu God Festival, Alehong—weakened by her cursed backlash—would never have been able to stop Azhaqi’s ambitions, let alone secure Gu Baitou.

Gifting the sacred herb to the Gu God Sect’s honored guest was only natural.

Seeing her sincerity, Lu Jianwei didn’t refuse further. She returned the remaining Gu Baitou to her system inventory, where its potency would remain perfectly preserved for future use.

Beneath the Gu Baitou tree, the brawl raged on.

Just as Lu Jianwei was enjoying the spectacle, a clear, melodious flute tune drifted from nearby.

—That sounds familiar.