No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 62
◎A Set of Formation Diagrams, United Efforts, a Ninth-Rank Martial King◎
The spring sun was warm and gentle.
Sunlight slanted into the corridor, casting slender shadows of the pillars onto the ground.
One such shadow stretched all the way to a wheelchair.
Wen Zhuzhi lowered his head, smoothing the papers on his lap, as his moon-white hair ribbon slipped from behind and fell straight onto his chest.
A cold jade flute lay diagonally across his legs, its surface gleaming with a serene luster.
"What brings you here?" Lu Jianwei teased. "Are you worried about the inn being besieged and came to bid farewell? Just so you know, I won’t refund the rent."
Wen Zhuzhi chuckled softly. "Do you have a plan, Innkeeper Lu?"
"Perhaps. Are you here to do business?"
Her eyes showed no trace of panic, indicating she already had everything under control.
"Not business." Wen Zhuzhi shook his head and handed her the papers. "If you don’t mind, you can set up these formations in the inn."
Lu Jianwei was surprised.
She took the papers, which depicted intricate formations. Each key point was clearly marked, making it easy for anyone with basic knowledge of formations to replicate them.
"Is this a layered formation?"
Wen Zhuzhi nodded. "Layered formations are more stable."
A layered formation combined different types of formations into one, creating a formation within a formation.
Such formations were more powerful and harder to break.
The layered formation Wen Zhuzhi had designed ingeniously incorporated both offensive and defensive formations—illusions, traps, and spatial displacement. As long as their side mastered the formation’s patterns, they could strike unpredictably and catch their enemies off guard.
The formation could drain the martial energy of the intruders. Even if someone managed to escape, Lu Jianwei would still have the strength to drive them out of the inn.
There was no denying it—this layered formation truly impressed her.
She studied it for a long while before suddenly looking up.
"Yan Feicang and Uncle Zhang are high-level fighters, skilled in offense. Tiao excels in medicine and poison. Yue Shu understands formations. These diagrams couldn’t have come at a better time."
"If Innkeeper Lu finds them useful, it’s my honor," Wen Zhuzhi replied.
A'Nai chimed in, "Innkeeper Lu, why didn’t you mention Xue Guanhe? Isn’t he your disciple?"
"Of course, he can practice within the formation too." Lu Jianwei waved the diagrams lightly. "Young Master Wen, are you really not going to name a price?"
Wen Zhuzhi: "Consider it a gift."
"Such precious formation diagrams, given away so freely. Young Master Wen is truly generous."
"Only useful things are precious."
"You’re helping me like this, yet you don’t plan to command the formation yourself?" Lu Jianwei smiled. "Yue Shu has only studied for a few months—he’s hardly a master yet."
"He has talent, just lacks experience." Wen Zhuzhi spoke softly. "Innkeeper Lu, why not give him a chance?"
"Fine. Since you say so, you’ve made up your mind to leave?"
"Yes. There are some personal matters I must attend to. Once they’re settled, I’ll trouble you again."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
"Safe travels."
"Thank you for your blessings."
The two of them—one seated, one standing—gazed at each other in silence for a few breaths.
A cool breeze suddenly swept through, rustling the straw in the courtyard—perhaps escaped from the stables.
Lu Jianwei turned away.
"Liang Shangjun, time to sweep the grounds."
Liang Shangjun replied weakly, "...Coming."
The formation diagrams were handed to Yue Shu, who treated them like treasure. He immersed himself in studying them that very night, attempting to set up the formations across the entire courtyard.
The formations needed to be integrated with martial skills, traps, and poisons, requiring careful coordination. Thus, he frequently gathered Uncle Zhang, Yan Feicang, and others for small strategy meetings.
The next day, when the Wen family’s entourage departed, Yue Shu was the most reluctant to see them go.
"Young Master Wen, when will you return?"
A'Nai teased, "Return? We live in Nanzhou."
"Oh. Then I’ll look forward to your next visit." Yue Shu turned to Wen Zhuzhi, sincerity in his voice. "Young Master Wen, thank you for your guidance all this time. I’ll keep studying hard."
Wen Zhuzhi nodded slightly, his smile gentle.
"Farewell, everyone."
A bundle was tossed straight onto his lap.
He looked up in confusion.
Lu Jianwei stood at the doorway, her features bathed in golden sunlight, striking and ethereal.
"A gift for you—some medicinal herbs and a set of sleeve arrows."
A faint smile curved at the corners of Wen Zhuzhi’s eyes, bringing life to his sickly pale face. His amber eyes reflected the figure of the woman outside the carriage.
"Thank you."
"Innkeeper Lu, are the sleeve arrows for me?" A'Nai exclaimed excitedly. "Thank you so much!"
With that, he leapt onto the driver’s seat, gripping the reins and raising the whip high.
"Young Master, we’re off!"
The horse neighed and galloped away.
Yue Shu watched them leave with longing.
"I wonder when they’ll come back."
"Yeah," Xue Guanhe sighed. "Guests as generous as Young Master Wen are rare."
Twenty thousand taels, and he didn’t even blink.
Lu Jianwei returned to her room to continue her cultivation and studies.
The others busied themselves with preparations to defend the inn.
After much effort, Yue Shu fully grasped the layered formation’s mechanics. Based on everyone’s skills, he devised a detailed plan and explained it in simple terms.
"We’ll communicate with whistles—one short for attack, one long for retreat, and one short followed by one long for repositioning. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
Uncle Zhang’s face was full of pride. Yue Shu had been only twelve when disaster struck—innocent and fragile back then. After a long journey to Fengzhou, he was fortunate to be taken in and taught by Innkeeper Lu, rapidly growing into a responsible young man.
After the New Year, he would be thirteen.
Now, this thirteen-year-old boy was striving to protect his second home.
After the meeting, Yan Feicang dragged Xue Guanhe to the river to practice swordsmanship. Each stood at opposite ends of a boat, engaging in a fierce sparring session midstream.
Yan Feicang, with years of sword training, wielded his "Tidal Sword" with sweeping, powerful strokes, sending waves splashing.
Xue Guanhe, having only practiced for a few months, lacked experience. But with top-tier techniques, even without using internal energy, his swordplay allowed him to hold his own against Yan Feicang—though the latter was clearly holding back to instruct him.
After several rounds, Yan Feicang sheathed his sword.
"Your technique is good, but your sword lacks intent." He tapped Xue Guanhe’s chest with the scabbard. "There’s no power here."
"I understand. Thank you for your guidance, Brother Yan." Xue Guanhe was well aware of his shortcomings. He hadn’t truly experienced the martial world yet, so his sword lacked the personal conviction that defined a true swordsman.
His blade was still too soft.
In the servants’ quarters, Tiao meticulously arranged powders of medicine and poison on the table. If those intruders dared step foot in the inn, she would make sure they regretted it.
Before long, Wei Liu rushed to the inn in a panic.
"Sister Lu, I heard—I heard—"
"You heard that people believe the 'Polar Golden Silkworm' rumor and want to 'bring justice' for the Zhou family massacre?" Lu Jianwei reassured her. "Don’t worry. Nothing will happen."
Wei Liu: "I know you’re strong, but… I’ll stay and help drive them away."
"No need. Go back and focus on running your martial school."
"I know I’m not high-level, but I’m almost fifth-rank. I can still handle those below that for you."
Lu Jianwei smiled. "Don’t you trust me?"
"Of course I do!" Wei Liu shook her head hastily.
"Then go back," Lu Jianwei patted her head. "Be good."
Wei Liu had no choice but to leave.
"That girl has some sense of loyalty," Liang Shangjun remarked, leaning on his broom.
Lu Jianwei turned around.
"Almost forgot about you."
Liang Shangjun took a step back, wary. "What do you want?"
"Giving you a way out." Lu Jianwei took out a pill. "The antidote for the Ordinary Guest poison—one pill costs a thousand taels, plus a ransom of two hundred thousand taels. Sign an IOU, and I'll let you go."
Liang Shangjun's eyes widened. "That expensive?!"
"You were the one who said your worth shouldn't be less than a disciple of the Martial Alliance." Lu Jianwei smiled brightly. "Do you want it or not?"
"Forget it." Liang Shangjun turned away, frustrated. "I can't afford it."
Lu Jianwei: "Once the others arrive, you won’t have a chance to leave."
"No." Liang Shangjun lowered his head and resumed sweeping.
Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow, flipped her hand, and let the pill drop to the ground.
A hand darted out like lightning, catching the pill before it hit the floor, clutching it in relief.
"Why did you throw it?"
"Since you picked it up, it’s yours." Lu Jianwei generously left the pill with him and returned to her room.
Liang Shangjun pinched the thousand-tael pill between his fingers, bringing it close to sniff.
Could this be fake? Was Lu Jianwei testing him?
But the antidote she gave the Martial Alliance disciples before was the same color and smell—it should be real.
Then why give it to him for free?
One moment she was demanding payment, the next she was being this generous. It made him uneasy.
To take it or not?
After some deliberation, Liang Shangjun decided to trust Lu Jianwei’s integrity.
He swallowed the pill.
A few breaths later, warmth pooled in his dantian. His suppressed inner energy broke free, coursing unrestrained through his meridians.
The antidote was real!
He looked up toward the third floor, utterly baffled.
Why had she given him the antidote?
Didn’t she worry he’d take it and flee, disappearing behind his mask forever?
Liang Shangjun turned the question over in his mind but couldn’t figure it out. Resigned, he picked up the broom and resumed sweeping.
Fine. Since the antidote was free, he’d stick around until those hyenas were driven off before leaving.
---
"Jianwei, you just gave him the antidote—aren’t you afraid he’ll run off with it?" Xiao Ke asked, puzzled. "Once those people arrive, you won’t have the focus to keep an eye on him."
Lu Jianwei: "It’s just one pill."
"Since when are you this generous?"
"Xiao Ke," Lu Jianwei said, feigning hurt, "have I ever been stingy?"
"……"
"Alright, enough teasing. I gave him the antidote because he didn’t actually break the inn’s rules. A small punishment was enough—no need to leave him defenseless in danger."
"Oh, I see."
"He’s pessimistic, but he has principles. He won’t take favors lightly. If I give him the antidote, he won’t run."
"What if he does?"
"If he runs, I lose nothing." Lu Jianwei’s expression was serene. "But he’d be the one missing out—on both the spectacle and the chance to uphold justice."
From Liang Shangjun’s actions, it was clear he liked standing by what he believed was right.
The Eight Directions Inn was being slandered, drawing greedy martial artists to besiege it—an injustice.
Liang Shangjun wouldn’t leave.
---
Green Dragon Gang
Hong Yingjie practiced spear forms for an hour before his father returned. He hurried over.
"Dad, have you heard about the 'Polar Golden Silkworm'?"
Hong He wiped his blade and chuckled. "What’s on your mind?"
"Is it true that Lu Jianwei massacred the Zhou family banquet to steal it?"
"Just rumors."
Hong He, a seasoned veteran, saw through the lies at once. If the Polar Golden Silkworm really existed, the Martial Alliance would’ve kept it secret, scheming in the shadows—not broadcasting it like this.
"If it’s fake, should we go help Lu Jianwei?" Ever since receiving his treasured spear, Hong Yingjie’s admiration for Lu Jianwei had only grown. "She’s doing business in our Jiangzhou territory—we can’t just stand by, right?"
Hong He hesitated. "We can’t ignore it, no."
"Let’s go now!"
"Go where?!" Hong He glared. "Do you know who’s coming? Even the weakest will be stronger than your old man. How do we help?"
"Then isn’t Lu Jianwei in danger?"
Hong He shook his head again.
"She subdued Martial Alliance disciples effortlessly and casually handed out divine weapons. Whether it’s her own strength or her backing, she’s not someone to underestimate. It’s too soon to say who’ll win."
"Dad, all this talk—what’s the plan?" Hong Yingjie grumbled.
Hong He: "Stop bothering me."
He didn’t know either.
"This spear hasn’t seen real action yet. If you won’t go, I will." Hong Yingjie turned to leave.
"Get back here!" Hong He jabbed a finger at him. "With your skills, how many could you even stop?"
Hong Yingjie shot back, "How do I know if I don’t try?"
"Lu Jianwei might not even want your help." Hong He sheathed his blade and stood. "Fine. I’ll go with you."
At the very least, they could ask.
---
The father and son arrived at the inn but didn’t see Lu Jianwei—Uncle Zhang received them instead.
The inn appreciates the Gang Leader and Young Master’s kindness. However, the innkeeper said this is just a small misunderstanding that’ll be resolved soon. There’s no need for concern.
Hong He exhaled inwardly in relief.
From Zhang Gaozhu’s tone, Lu Jianwei wasn’t worried about the incoming martial artists and didn’t need the Green Dragon Gang’s help.
By making their stance clear now, they’d save face regardless of the outcome.
Even if the inn fell under siege, the gang wouldn’t be dragged down too much.
He returned to the gang and ordered his men to lay low for now.
---
The rumors raged on, painting Lu Jianwei as the confirmed mastermind behind the Zhou family massacre—all to steal the Polar Golden Silkworm.
Many coveted the legendary treasure, and greed blinded them to the truth.
Jiangzhou City braced for stormy times.
Martial artists, whether participants or spectators, flooded in, filling every inn to capacity.
Some, confident in their skills, lurked near the Eight Directions Inn, scouting.
Lu Jianwei opened her map—a sea of green dots dotted the streets, alleys, rooftops, and riverbanks.
An ordinary inn would’ve fled Jiangzhou overnight.
But the inn’s residents were eager, itching for action.
"I’ve practiced the Rippling Palm for so long but never had a real match." Uncle Zhang dusted his sleeves. "This is a rare opportunity."
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Yan Feicang brimmed with confidence. "Leave the sixth-level fighters to me."
"Even sixth-level warriors won’t resist these." Tiao spread out her medicine pouch, filled with vials of deadly substances.
Xue Guanhe chuckled awkwardly. "I’m the least useful—just here to assist and gain experience. After this, I’ll cook you all a feast."
"You’re taught by Lu Jianwei. How could you be useless?" Yun Hui smiled. "I’m the one dragging everyone down, but don’t worry—after we win, I’ll make sure the food and drinks are ready."
"Aunt Yun, you’re not useless," Yue Shu said quickly. "Don’t say that."
Xue Guanhe nodded vigorously, signaling to Tiao.
Tiao added, "Mm. Very useful."
At least she no longer had to do her own hair every morning or struggle with needlework she was terrible at.
Yun Hui beamed with joy.
"With all of you here, and Manager Lu around, the inn will surely be fine."
Midnight arrived, and all fell silent.
Dark clouds veiled half the moon, its silvery glow receding like a tide from the land, leaving the Eight Directions Inn shrouded in pitch-black darkness, devoid of any sound.
Perched on the third floor, Lu Jianwei watched with amusement as she counted the intruders outside.
Twenty vanguards—far fewer than the last incident in Fengzhou—but all were fifth or sixth-level warriors, a significant leap in skill.
She had no intention of intervening just yet.
The formations her staff had spent days preparing hadn’t yet shown their true worth.
The twenty intruders, relying on their superb lightness skills, leaped into the courtyard, making straight for the central room on the third floor, intent on taking Lu Jianwei’s life and plundering her wealth.
Whether it was the Polar Golden Silkworm, the White Jade Lingzhi Elixir, or legendary weapons, all were their targets.
They were brimming with confidence.
From the courtyard to the main building, two breaths of lightness skill were all it should take. Counting the rhythm, they fantasized about the treasures soon to be theirs.
Two breaths later—
Something was wrong!
Why was the main building still so far away?
They should have reached it by now, yet they were still circling outside.
Someone quick-witted gasped, "It’s a formation!"
They had stumbled into an illusionary maze!
The intelligence never mentioned Lu Jianwei’s expertise in formations, nor had Yan Feicang or Zhang Gaozhu, both formidable warriors, ever studied them.
What was going on?
The clouds swallowed the moonlight, leaving the night sky ink-black.
A long blade suddenly slashed through the air, its momentum like raging waves, aimed straight at a sixth-level warrior’s face.
The icy blade wind sheared off a lock of the enemy’s hair.
A fierce battle erupted.
Elsewhere, Zhang Gaozhu’s wild palm strikes, amplified by the formation, trapped another foe.
Tiao, unwilling to be outdone, followed Yue Shu’s directions, sidestepped, and collided with a fifth-level warrior. Before he could react, she flung a handful of potent powder.
The warrior’s eyes rolled back, foam spewing from his mouth as he collapsed unconscious.
Xue Guanhe, only a third-level warrior, couldn’t match his opponent’s strength, but with the formation’s aid—along with traps and his own fierce, relentless blade techniques—he held his own against a fifth-level warrior.
His blood boiled with exhilaration as he unleashed moves he had practiced thousands of times.
A slash to his shoulder barely registered; the scent of blood only fueled his frenzy.
This was the true martial world—fighting with everything he had, every strike poured from his soul.
"Tsk, impressive blade work!" The enemy sneered, eyes gleaming with greed. "No wonder the rumors spoke of treasures—even the martial techniques are top-tier."
Xue Guanhe’s fury flared.
He would crush these despicable scoundrels!
His blade intent erupted in an instant.
"Interesting," the enemy mocked, unleashing a surge of inner force that shattered Xue Guanhe’s attack and slashed toward his throat.
Xue Guanhe, still clear-headed, sidestepped—and vanished.
The enemy frowned.
"Damnable formation."
From the formation’s core, Yue Shu observed everything.
The twenty vanguards were trapped, locked in a stalemate.
Outside, the waiting martial artists, confused by the formation, couldn’t see the battle but soon realized the truth.
"Break it by force!"
Formations weren’t invincible.
They could be dismantled by finding the core or shattered through sheer power.
Impatient, they channeled their inner force, trying to tear the formation apart—but it held firm, resisting their efforts.
On the third floor, Lu Jianwei took in the scene below, a faint smile of pride in her eyes.
"Xiao Ke, our team isn’t half bad."
Xiao Ke: "True, but their inner force won’t last much longer."
"No matter. The formation can hold a while longer," she mused. "Wen Zhuzhi’s design is quite effective."
"Will you use the disguise item or the inn’s special tool later?" Xiao Ke asked curiously.
Lu Jianwei sighed. "There are too many outside. The inn’s tool would cost too much, but I’m reluctant to waste the 500,000-coin item either."
"..."
"Pity it’s so dark. Can’t even see their faces." She frowned. "If any are on the Wanted Register, killing them wouldn’t be illegal, right?"
Xiao Ke: "You’ve killed before."
"That was different. No one saw me then. With so many witnesses now, it’s... awkward."
"Why?"
"Everyone knows I dislike violence. If I kill openly, wouldn’t that ruin my image?"
"They already know you killed the Gray Assassin. Your reputation’s intact."
"Hearing and seeing are two different things. I don’t want to tarnish my grace."
Xiao Ke gave up.
As more martial artists joined the fray, the formation began to crack. Yan Feicang and the others were nearing exhaustion, but the enemies kept coming.
Yue Shu glanced up at the third floor.
A single candle flickered to life, its glow piercing the night.
Without hesitation, he blew a whistle. The staff retreated into the corridors.
Lu Jianwei adjusted the wick, brightening the flame.
"Xiao Ke, the silver I earn from the disguise item goes into my personal account, right?"
"Correct."
"Good."
The silver scissors clinked against the table.
She retrieved the item—a mask, really—and pressed it to her face. It melded seamlessly with her skin.
Already clad in black martial attire, jewelry discarded, she gripped the Sparse Star Sword, unsheathed for the first time since she bought it.
Tonight, it would drink its fill.
The formation shattered.
The martial artists cheered inwardly, convinced the inn was now theirs.
Their eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.
The spring breeze scattered the clouds, unveiling the moon’s shy face once more.
Its silvery light bathed the courtyard.
Then—
A force like the heavens collapsing descended. An oppressive, terrifying aura engulfed the inn and beyond.
What... was that?!
Everyone dropped to their knees, yet stubbornly lifted their heads.
A lean figure in black hovered midair, the pale moonlight glinting off the sword’s icy edge.
She moved.
Like a wisp of wind, a drifting mist, her form flickered ghostly against the night.
They couldn’t track her, as if viewing her through a veil—yet her overwhelming power and mystique were undeniable.
Where the sword passed, none survived.
All they saw were fleeting shadows and scattered starlight in the blade’s wake.
Three miles away, several seventh-level kings lurked in the shadows, observing the battle in Jiangzhou.
At their age and level, caution was second nature.
And in the days to come, they would thank their past selves for it.
When the sword cleaved the night, when that world-shaking might radiated from the Eight Directions Inn—
All bowed in reverence.
"Ninth level... a ninth-level master!"
"Retreat!"
"Now!"
The Martial Kings reacted swiftly, employing their most exquisite lightness skills to flee Jiangzhou at breakneck speed.
A frigid voice boomed behind them, vast and unyielding.
"Harm my disciples, and you shall perish—"
