Chapter 83

Once inside the city, Fangcheng presented an even more bizarre scene.

Perhaps because the entire city lacked any clear rules or laws—or even if some existed, they were never formally written—the members of the Valley of Villains, from mere minions to those holding ambiguous positions like hall masters or guardians, swaggered through the streets without restraint. They didn’t lower their voices, and their actions showed zero prudence; galloping horses through marketplaces, robbery, and looting were common occurrences.

Conversely, the original inhabitants of Fangcheng, or those commoners driven here from Miyang Slope or even farther north like Lianzhuang, enjoyed no such freedom whatsoever.

When people entered the city, whether they were the overbearing Valley of Villains members or travelers like Chen Shu, He Yu, or even Ying Wei and Xuan Qin, not a single hawker or porter lining the streets dared to lift their heads. Unlike the citizens of other towns who would warmly look over newcomers, curious about their origin, appearance, destination, or whether they might patronize their stalls, everyone here stayed utterly quiet, heads bowed low, like rows of unevenly planted roadside trees, seeming even less alive than those sturdy trunks.

Should someone cause trouble or commit evil on the streets, the victims would only plead for mercy, while bystanders either watched timidly from a distance or kept minding their own business as if such events were routine and hardly worth noticing in Fangcheng.

As for Ying Wei and Xuan Qin, after quite a while, they finally dealt with the guards at the gate. Their heads lifted only to find the wide road ahead empty, dotted only with a few idle, fierce-looking warriors wandering about. Where were the figures of Chen Shu and He Yu? Thus, the two entered the city completely unaware, noticing nothing amiss. Listening closely, one could even hear the usually good-natured Xuan Qin trailing behind Ying Wei, muttering a soft complaint as they walked.

“…Why did you have to say I was your father?”

“What else could I do? I’m your martial uncle! Just agree with whatever I say, alright—” Ying Wei started, then suddenly smacked his own forehead and snapped at Xuan Qin with a bluster that lacked any real bite, “—and don’t you dare sneak back and tattle to that Demon King later!”

“A-Qiong isn’t a Demon King…” Xuan Qin replied, pausing thoughtfully before adding, “And she went away with the Martial World Alliance, anyway. She hasn’t returned to the sect.”

“Who cares if she is or not! I’m here to live a little wild in Fangcheng! Come on, let’s find a place to stay first—” Ying Wei urged.

Short as he was, his footwork was impressive. Unlike Chen Shu and He Yu, who journeyed from elsewhere, this pair had come from the north, likely making a detour on their way back to Qin Xin Bluff. Without horses or carriages, they traversed so many rugged paths on pure skill, yet still had energy to wander aimlessly within the city walls.

Of the two, Ying Wei proved especially lively. Like an overactive, annoying little boy, he needed to poke and examine everything they passed. Few had ever visited Fangcheng, and to him, everything was novel and fascinating. Compounded by Xuan Qin’s inability to control him and the locals treating him like just another young ruffian who couldn’t be refused, within a short half-hour, he’d already explored two or three streets. Thanks to sparse foot traffic, these thoroughfares contained eateries and establishments selling cloth or medicinal herbs, but no inns could be found. Finally, turning onto another street at a slightly busier intersection, he spotted an inn. Without hesitation, and before Xuan Qin could grab him, he charged straight in.

“How much for a room? Any good ones available?” Ying Wei barked loudly.

Even though few customers graced the inn, compared to the deserted inns of Miyang Slope, a few sat scattered around square tables as if for meals or tea, silently eating their fare. Neither an inn boy nor the proprietor seemed present.

Even after Ying Wei’s shout, no one emerged from behind the curtains hiding the kitchen. The ensuing silence hung heavy, broken only by faint echoes of his demand and the steady clinking of utensils from the nearby patrons.

Xuan Qin stepped in and seemed about to speak, but Ying Wei, perhaps feeling bold now that he had coins jingling in his pocket, thrust out his chin and shouted again, “Where’s everybody—”

This time, a voice did answer—thunderous, booming right beside his ear.

“Here, you little rascal! Want that luxury room? Fine. But for every night you stay, you owe one extra dawn drill when you get back!” The female voice sounded, “I knew I would find you slipping out, goading him into misbehaving. Think Sect Master won’t punish you back home?”

A hand slammed onto Ying Wei’s shoulder as the speaker materialized. It thwacked him so hard his soul felt ripped away; he nearly leapt off the floor. Those fingers seized with impossible strength—try as he might, Ying Wei couldn’t wrench free. Heart turned to dead ashes, he squeezed his eyes shut and yelled back with complete abandon.

“I will stay! After all that trekking! How dare you chase me down, corner me, threaten to tell Sect Master? Go ahead and tell! I have serious business! Don’t you have your own responsibilities?!—Weren’t you supposed to be heading north with those Martial World Alliance people?!”

“She—” Xuan Qin attempted meekly from the doorway but instantly got cut off by Ying Wei.

“Oh, I’ll tell! I’ll say you’re a tyrant! A bully preying on juniors! You want to speak badly of me? Think I won’t do the same? I’ll report YOU! Say you—” He sucked in air, mustering his courage until he finally pivoted to glare directly, venomously, at whoever held him… Only for his furious tirade to die unborn in his throat. “—Y-You… but how are YOU here?!”

Chen Shu broke into a radiant smile, sparkling eyes and gleaming teeth visible as her curved eyes beamed. “Why can’t it be me?”

“I was just thinking…”

“Still think it’s your Senior Sister coming to catch you again?” Chen Shu laughed, tapping his forehead. “How are you even easier to trick than me?”

Behind her, Xuan Qin and He Yu exchanged bows, then stepped over the threshold together, striding into the inn.

Hearing this, He Yu smiled indulgently, but Xuan Qin wore a serious expression, shaking his head as he said:

“…Ma’am imitates quite well.” His tone was earnest, as if sincerely praising Chen Shu.

To that, Chen Shu actually accepted the compliment, her playful grin fading a bit. She turned her head, waved dismissively at Xuan Qin, saying “Overpraise, overpraise,” and then dragged Ying Wei, who stood rooted in place with fists clenched in anger, toward the inside of the inn.

“…So your Senior Sister really calls you ‘little rascal’ every day?” Chen Shu asked, walking all the while.

“…She does!” Ying Wei squeezed out the word from between his teeth, then shot an innocent-looking Xuan Qin a glare. He yanked his hand free from Chen Shu’s grip, huffing in anger, and marched over to straddle a square table right in the center of the inn’s main hall. Once there, he raised his head—perhaps noticing everyone’s gazes subtly lingering on him—and grew even more flustered with rage. He spun around and shouted toward the inn’s interior, “Hey, anyone here? We need rooms! Innkeeper, do you still want to run this business or not?”

That shout finally drew a voice from behind the curtained door—a plain-sounding male voice, somewhat lazy, as if he’d been lagging even though customers had already shown up. It made one sigh inwardly; no wonder his business was so sluggish.

“Coming, coming, take it easy, guests—our inn doesn’t often get lodgers—” The voice grew nearer until a man finally emerged. He looked like an honest fellow, wearing cloth clothes and shoes, a clean linen server’s towel draped over his shoulder, a smile on his face as he said, “Might I ask where you’ve come from, where you’re headed, and how long you’ll be staying?”

“Why ask so many questions? Just get us rooms!” Ying Wei snapped grumpily. But even as he spoke, he was something of a paper tiger, obediently waiting until He Yu and the others arrived at the table before thrusting a finger at the Innkeeper and adding, “Ask them what they want too, and bring up some best dishes.”

“We also need rooms,” He Yu said, chuckling.

“Right away. Then I’ll tell the kitchen to prepare their best.” The Innkeeper replied, seeming to ponder for a moment before adding, “Not sure where you’re from, but how’s your taste? Our dishes here are strongly flavored—mind any dietary restrictions? I’ll pass it along beforehand.”

“Dairy’s out—she can’t handle it,” He Yu said. “Skip the sweets and snacks; just bring two plates to fill us up.”

Chen Shu puffed out her cheeks; she’d been fiercely lecturing Ying Wei moments ago, but now she turned childish herself, much like him. When Ying Wei heard this and saw how Chen Shu seemed under He Yu’s watchful eye—recalling he was the one calling the shots among the two from Qin Xin Bluff—his confidence surged. He gave a triumphant little snort and declared:

“We’ve all roamed north and south, even journeyed to Diancang Pass to join that Sword Discussion Tournament—why fear a plate of cheese? Just bring whatever’s your best! My treat!”

After speaking, he deliberately rummaged through his purse, jingling his silver coins before pulling out quite a heavy silver ingot and handing it to the Innkeeper.

This act caused Ying Wei’s face to unconsciously show a bit of that Li Chou-like arrogance. He waited gleefully for the Innkeeper to take his silver, only for the Innkeeper—seemingly expecting this very moment—to pivot on the spot with his cotton-clad hand. Ignoring the lump of silver in Ying Wei’s hand, he bolted straight toward Chen Shu.

“You must be—” the Innkeeper said, grinning wide. Because of his honest looks, it almost seemed silly. He hesitated for a moment, as if forgetting her name, then added, “that Swordswoman! The one who saved the water at Diancang Pass! Aren’t you, aren’t you!”

Chen Shu blinked in surprise, startled at first, but after the words sank in, she beamed with joy. At Diancang Pass, she’d been adored by the masses, but outside that place, this was the first time she’d been recognized face-to-face. It left her flustered; she scrambled to stand up, stammering, “…Ah, yes, I am. How do you know about my story?”

“Oh, oh, a few days ago, a fine guest from Diancang Pass came to lodge in our humble inn. I was lucky enough to hear all about it from—”

The Innkeeper threw a glance backward, and the curtained door behind him swung open immediately. A tall, lean figure stepped out from the shadows, dressed in long gray robes. He bowed with a smiling salute toward them and said, “Isn’t this quite a coincidence?”

A closer look: refined features, a gentle smile in his expression, and an innate grace in his movement—surely that was Yun Shen?

Chen Shu grew even more delighted, nearly leaping from her chair. She dashed the few steps forward, eyeing Yun Shen, and asked, “What are you doing here—oh right, how did you even meet this… this who?”

“Who am I?” Xiao Zhong suddenly realized, pointing at himself. He paused, shot a look at Yun Shen over his shoulder, and repeated almost as if he’d hadn’t thought of the question before, “—Who am I then?”

For an instant, Yun Shen’s smile froze almost imperceptibly.

Fortunately, Chen Shu—closest to him—was both excited and naturally oblivious to such things. So she didn’t notice a thing.

After a short silence, Yun Shen raised a hand again, plastering on a cheerful smile as he introduced:

“…This Innkeeper is actually a friend I met at Mijiang Slope. His surname is Zhong.”