No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 120

◎The Vital Earth Lotus Formula, Yan Breaks Through, the Alliance Leader's Decree◎

It was already public knowledge that the meridians of the Thousand Miles Tower's puppet assassins were wider than those of ordinary people.

Lu Jianwei had considered whether Zhuang Wenqing's formula for widening meridians might be discovered during the raid on the Thousand Miles Tower.

This matter was of great importance, and Qi Yan had also paid special attention while inventorying the assets. However, not even ordinary prescriptions were found in the treasury, let alone a formula for widening meridians.

Unexpectedly, the situation took a turn—Xiao Ke had discovered it.

"Where did you find it?"

"I was assessing the value of the confiscated items when I noticed a fake painting among a pile of famous artworks. Then I realized there was a hidden layer inside."

Lu Jianwei smiled. "Our Xiao Ke is truly clever."

"Of course," Xiao Ke said proudly. "I scanned the hidden layer and found the formula for widening meridians."

Lu Jianwei ordered, "Store the fake painting directly in the system."

The absence of one painting in the treasury wouldn’t draw the clerks' attention.

Xiao Ke placed the fake painting into Lu Jianwei’s personal inventory before retrieving it for her.

"By the way, did you call me earlier? Was there something important?"

"It’s nothing."

"Oh."

Lu Jianwei unrolled the scroll. The painting depicted towering green mountains and flowing blue waters, its craftsmanship undeniably exquisite.

Even as a forgery, it held considerable artistic value.

But compared to the formula for widening meridians, that value paled in significance.

Zhuang Wenqing must have thought the same.

He had crafted a fake painting, attached another blank sheet of the same size, and sealed the formula between them. freēnovelkiss.com

A rolled-up painting stored in a scroll case would never draw suspicion—no one would question its authenticity, let alone notice the hidden contents.

Lu Jianwei ran her fingers slowly over the scroll until she felt a thin sheet of paper at its center.

Carefully, she separated the two layers and retrieved the well-preserved formula.

—The Vital Earth Lotus Formula!

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the name, but she quickly steadied herself.

Whether the formula was genuine still required thorough examination.

She focused entirely on the prescription, analyzing the role of each ingredient.

With her current expertise in medicine, she could deduce the formula’s efficacy after reading it through.

Upon review, she spotted a glaring issue.

This formula likely originated from the Vital Earth Lotus Formula and could indeed nourish and protect the meridians. When combined with the Small Leaf Acupuncture Technique, widening meridians wouldn’t be difficult—but it would leave behind side effects.

A few additional herbs were needed to perfect it.

The missing ingredients weren’t numerous, and she could supplement them based on the existing formula’s principles.

The most crucial one was the "Earth Lotus."

Given the formula’s name, the Earth Lotus’s importance was self-evident.

Yet, this prescription made no mention of it—how strange.

The Compendium of Medicinal Herbs briefly described the Earth Lotus in just two lines:

Prefers dark, damp environments; occasionally found in cliffside marshes. Used medicinally to warm and nourish meridians, fortify vitality. Difficult to harvest; caution advised against injury.

The fewer the details, the rarer the herb.

While the Earth Lotus was indeed hard to obtain, that didn’t justify its omission.

Had something gone wrong during its transmission?

"Xiao Ke, didn’t you say the medical texts provided by the system contained no specific formulas, meaning they were likely lost to time? How did the Thousand Miles Tower end up with this incomplete version?"

"You just called it incomplete," Xiao Ke explained. "Besides, 'lost to time' only refers to written records. If someone memorized it, the system wouldn’t know either."

Lu Jianwei: "..."

So where did the Thousand Miles Tower get it?

Could an organization like them really obtain such a near-perfect formula on their own?

After examining the assassins’ meridians at the arena, Meng Ti'an had mentioned reading in ancient texts that meridians could be widened, but the formula had been lost. This suggested that well-established sects might still know of its existence.

At the time, Zhao Xian had also acted strangely, even inquiring about the Thousand Miles Tower’s confiscated assets.

Now that she thought about it, he might not have been after compensation—but this very formula.

"Ah," Xiao Ke suddenly exclaimed. "Yan Feicang seems about to lose."

Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow. "He won’t go down that easily."

"But Ying Wumian’s swordsmanship is truly exceptional, and he’s a seventh-level cultivator. Wouldn’t it be normal for Yan Feicang to lose?"

"You’re underestimating him."

No sooner had she spoken than Xiao Ke gasped.

"A reversal! Yan Feicang is now overpowering Ying Wumian—how?!"

Lu Jianwei explained, "Yan Feicang thrives under pressure. He’s never fought Ying Wumian before, so he wasn’t familiar with his rhythm earlier. Once he adapted, he found openings and turned the tide."

After spending so much time at the inn, he’d naturally sharpened his insight.

Spotting weaknesses was no longer a challenge for a warrior as quick to learn as Yan Feicang.

The arena’s atmosphere grew increasingly electric.

Even those who had bet against Yan Feicang no longer cared about their losses.

Witnessing such an exhilarating battle was worth far more than a few taels of silver.

Both were among the finest of the younger generation, each a master of their respective weapon—every strike brimmed with power and grace.

Yan Feicang was thoroughly enjoying himself, more so with each passing moment.

His mind was wholly focused on the fight, devoid of distractions. Victory or defeat meant nothing to him; only the intricate dance of blades held his attention.

Ying Wumian, however, carried far more weight on his shoulders.

He needed to win—no, he had to win.

But against an opponent equally sharp in awareness, such burdens only dragged him down. The harder he pushed for victory, the less his sword obeyed.

Level advantage meant nothing against Yan Feicang.

Ying Wumian could already sense it—he was losing.

Yet he couldn’t afford to.

Gathering every ounce of his inner energy, he unleashed his most devastating sword technique, aiming to shatter Yan Feicang’s defenses in one blow.

Yan Feicang blocked with his blade, forced back several steps—nearly off the stage—but held firm.

Having endured Lu Jianwei’s strikes before, Ying Wumian’s fiercest attack didn’t overwhelm him.

Still, defending against it had drained nearly all his energy.

If this continued, he’d be exhausted.

Ying Wumian wasn’t faring much better.

His ultimate strike had failed to defeat Yan Feicang, dealing a heavy blow to his morale instead.

His swordplay grew increasingly ruthless. Where he’d once held back for camaraderie, now every slash drew blood.

"Yan Feicang, just admit defeat."

Yan Feicang had no intention of surrendering. Even with depleted energy, he’d fight on.

Let’s see who outlasts whom.

Ying Wumian hadn’t expected such stubbornness. Though the fury in his eyes dimmed slightly, his sword still aimed unerringly for vital points.

Once Yan Feicang collapsed from exhaustion, victory would be his.

But his own energy was running dry as well.

If Ying Wumian was ruthless, Yan Feicang was even more so.

The two, now devoid of inner strength, continued their fierce exchange on the stage—slash for slash, blood staining the ground.

The spectators gradually fell silent.

"Yan Feicang," Ying Wumian repeated, "just admit defeat."

His clothes were already stained with blood, his arms, neck, and cheeks slashed with wounds, yet he still refused to give up.

Yan Feicang panted heavily, his breath ragged. "You're the one who should admit defeat."

Without the support of inner energy, his Surging Waves Blade could no longer summon towering waves. With the last of his strength, he swung his long blade over and over, parrying Ying Wumian’s sword strikes.

His opponent was also at the end of his rope—why should he be the one to surrender?!

A surge of intense fighting spirit erupted within him. The Surging Waves Blade slashed out with an even fiercer gust of wind, clashing midair with Ying Wumian’s longsword.

His palms split, his arms numb.

Yet the blade remained firmly in his grasp, unyielding.

"Gods, Yan Daxia’s aura just grew stronger!"

"Is he about to break through?"

"Look! Ying Daxia’s sword is about to snap!"

A crisp snap rang out—Ying Wumian’s sword split in two.

Yan Feicang’s blade cleaved through the broken sword, its momentum unchecked as it roared toward Ying Wumian’s face.

Ying Wumian mustered the last of his strength, kicking away the sharp edge before channeling a newly gathered burst of inner energy into a palm strike aimed at Yan Feicang’s chest.

"Pfft—"

"Pfft—"

Two sounds of blood being coughed up followed in quick succession.

Yan Feicang and Ying Wumian both collapsed heavily to the ground.

Three breaths later, Yan Feicang trembled as he pushed himself up, only to sway and fall unconscious again after barely standing for a second.

The arena fell silent.

A'Nai was the first to react. "Call a physician!"

Some physicians had been watching the match and immediately stepped forward to check on the two. After taking their pulses, they sighed in relief.

"Just exhaustion. The external injuries aren’t serious either."

"This match goes to Yan Daxia," A'Nai announced loudly. When no one objected, he, Xue Guanhe, and Yue Shu carried Yan Feicang to the main courtyard to rest.

Ying Chen and the disciples of the Martial Alliance had also been watching from below.

Seeing Ying Wumian covered in blood, disheveled and collapsed, Ying Chen sighed inwardly before instructing his disciples to carry him back to their quarters.

The Martial Alliance’s physician tended to Ying Wumian’s wounds inside the room while the other disciples waited outside.

"Master, are we still returning today?" Bian Xingzhou asked.

Ying Chen replied, "We’ll wait for the physician’s verdict."

"Understood."

Soon, the physician finished treating the wounds, and Ying Wumian regained some strength.

He lay silently on the bed, his eyes vacant, a defeated aura clinging to him—a far cry from the Martial Alliance’s former top disciple.

Ying Chen strode in, his temper flaring at the sight. "So you lost. Who hasn’t? Pull yourself together and return to the Alliance with me for secluded training."

"There’s no time," Ying Wumian said with a bleak smile. "Nothing I do now will matter."

Bian Xingzhou interjected, "Senior Brother, what’s troubling you? Tell us, and we’ll help you figure it out."

"You?"

"Yes, us." Bian Xingzhou tapped his fan against his palm, serious. "You’ve protected us before. Now it’s our turn to protect you."

Ying Wumian finally looked at him properly and chuckled. "You’ve become much sharper than before."

"Senior Brother, don’t tease me. Just tell us what’s going on."

"I need Gu Baitou."

"What do you need Gu Baitou for?" Ying Chen demanded.

"To save someone."

"Who?"

"Someone very important to me."

"You challenged Yan Feicang to win Gu Baitou, but now you’ve lost—your reputation and the herb are both gone. Is this the outcome you wanted?"

Ying Wumian laughed humorlessly. "I don’t care about reputation."

"And Gu Baitou?"

"..."

"You’re stubborn to the bone. Fine, I won’t interfere." Ying Chen’s tone turned grave. "But remember this—Innkeeper Lu is not someone to provoke. Tread carefully."

With that, he flicked his sleeves and left the room.

Bian Xingzhou sighed. "Senior Brother, if you wanted Gu Baitou, why didn’t you come with us to the southwest back then?"

"You went. Did you get it?"

"..." Bian Xingzhou fanned himself, hiding his awkward expression. "I meant your unusual way of handling things."

Ying Wumian just stared at him silently.

"Never mind, it’s pointless now. Senior Brother, if you ask me, you should follow Yan Feicang’s example. He shamelessly stayed at the inn chopping firewood until he won Innkeeper Lu’s favor. If not for her guidance in blade techniques and the custom-made treasure blade she gave him, he wouldn’t have beaten you today."

Ying Wumian froze for a moment before his eyes lit up. He sat up abruptly and clapped Bian Xingzhou’s shoulder.

"Good junior brother, thank you."

Before Bian Xingzhou could react, he was already out the door like a whirlwind, brushing past Ying Chen waiting outside.

Ying Chen: "..."

Ungrateful brat!

In the main courtyard, Yan Feicang’s wounds had also been treated, and he had regained some strength. The inner energy flowing through his meridians pulsed faintly—a sign of an impending breakthrough.

He was overjoyed and about to inform the innkeeper and the staff when a voice called from outside the courtyard.

"Brother Yan, I concede defeat in our earlier duel. I challenged you to win Gu Baitou to save someone. For causing you trouble, I sincerely apologize."

Yan Feicang stepped out just as Xue Guanhe opened the gate, revealing Ying Wumian kneeling on one knee outside.

The staff were stunned.

The martial artists who had followed to spectate were equally shocked.

"Brother Ying, what’s the meaning of this?" Yan Feicang strode forward. "A challenge is a contract between warriors. Had I refused, you could have walked away."

He reached out to help Ying Wumian up.

Ying Wumian sensed the change in his aura and understood. Sincerely, he said, "Brother Yan is on the verge of a breakthrough—congratulations. I shouldn’t impose further, but I have one request."

From Bian Xingzhou’s words, he could tell Yan Feicang was a man of principle, the kind who would chop firewood at an inn just for a master’s guidance.

He wanted to try one last time.

"You truly need it to save someone?" Yan Feicang asked.

Ying Wumian swore, "If I lie, may my meridians shatter."

"Is the person you’re saving a villain?"

"No."

Yan Feicang didn’t hesitate. "Fighting you was exhilarating. Take Gu Baitou."

To him, nothing mattered more than honing his skills.

His duel with Ying Wumian had been enlightening, even granting him the chance to break through.

Gu Baitou was meant to save lives—why shouldn’t he let Ying Wumian use it for that purpose?

The onlookers: ???

If they’d known a fight would earn them Gu Baitou, they’d have challenged Yan Daxia too!

Ying Wumian knelt again, clasping his fists in deep gratitude.

"Brother Yan’s kindness is beyond repayment. If you’ll allow it, I’ll take over chopping firewood for the inn from now on."

Yan Feicang: "..."

"Yan Daxia, someone’s stealing your job," A'Nai teased from the corridor.

"No need."

As Yan Feicang turned to retrieve Gu Baitou from the innkeeper, a small box came flying down from the third floor.

He caught it deftly and pressed it into Ying Wumian’s hands.

"Go save your person."

Ying Wumian cradled the box solemnly, his lashes lowering over slightly reddened eyes.

"Gu Baitou is priceless. Once the person is saved, I’ll return to express my gratitude. From then on, I’ll heed Brother Yan’s every word."

Before the crowd, he made this vow—one he could never take back.

He then took out a jade token and handed it to Yan Feicang.

"This is my Martial Alliance disciple token. I leave it with you as collateral."

Yan Feicang truly disliked these tangled affairs—his mind was solely focused on breaking through his cultivation. Just as he was about to refuse, Liang Shangjun jumped in and accepted on his behalf.

"Hero Ying, you mustn’t go back on your word," Liang Shangjun said.

Ying Wumian exhaled in relief. "I would never."

"Let everyone here bear witness—Hero Ying obtained the Gubaitou herb from the Eight Directions Inn. No one should deliberately hinder his efforts to save a life just to seize it. If the goodwill of the inn’s staff ends up becoming Hero Ying’s death warrant, that would be a terrible outcome."

Liang Shangjun’s words were a clear warning to the martial artists present, lest anyone be blinded by greed and attempt to steal the herb along the way.

Compared to the reputation of the chief disciple of the Martial Alliance, the name of the Eight Directions Inn carried far more weight.

Ying Wumian bowed deeply once more. "Thank you, Brother Liang."

With that, he immediately left the inn using qinggong, not wasting a single moment—his urgency was palpable.

After handing over the Gubaitou, Yan Feicang went into seclusion.

The other martial artists, having enjoyed the spectacle, began taking their leave from the inn.

Some wandering practitioners, however, were reluctant to part with the inn’s training grounds. Unfortunately, access cost a hundred taels per session, forcing them to leave temporarily and return once they’d earned enough money.

"Master, shall we return to Luozhou now?" Bian Xingzhou asked Ying Chen as he watched Ying Wumian depart.

Ying Chen replied, "Leave him be. We’re going back to Luozhou."

News of the Carefree Sect’s affairs had already spread, and he needed to return to the alliance headquarters.

The crowd of martial artists dwindled significantly, leaving only a handful of wealthy wanderers behind.

Helian Xue had decided to stay at the inn as a servant, refusing to leave with the Carefree Sect’s group.

Lvluo wanted to remain with her but was persuaded to go.

The physicians from the Divine Physician Valley still resided in the courtyard, waiting for the inn’s academy to open.

Pei Zhi, having received word from the Mystic Mirror Bureau, knocked on Lu Jianwei’s door.

For days, Lu Jianwei had been researching the Breath and Earth Lotus formula. While the Earth Lotus itself was missing, the other ingredients were readily available.

She experimented with the incomplete formula, supplementing it with the Small Leaf Needle technique, testing it on a human model.

The meridians could indeed be widened, but during the process, they became thinner and more brittle. Once they reached a critical point, there was a high risk of rupture.

To solve this problem, the Earth Lotus was essential.

But where could it be found?

"Weiwei," a voice called from outside.

Lu Jianwei stored the human model away and flicked her sleeve to open the door.

"Come in."

Pei Zhi stood at the threshold, his gaze meeting hers with a warmth that softened his otherwise simple attire, lending him an air of quiet elegance.

He hesitated for a breath before stepping inside.

Having stayed at the inn for so long, this was the first time he’d entered Lu Jianwei’s private quarters.

He didn’t quite know where to put his hands or feet.

Lu Jianwei rose from behind her desk. "Perfect timing. I’ve been reading medical texts for too long—my shoulders and back are stiff. Give me a massage."

She moved to the window, where a soft couch was placed.

Lying halfway on the couch, she could see the lush greenery outside.

But since she wanted the massage, she had to lie face down.

Pei Zhi closed the door behind him and leaned over the couch, his hands settling on her shoulders.

His touch was light yet precise, easing the tension in her muscles effortlessly.

"Not bad. Have you practiced before?" Lu Jianwei hadn’t expected much, but his technique left her drowsy with relaxation.

Pei Zhi replied, "I’ve observed the imperial physicians’ methods."

"You remembered just from watching?"

"Only a few basic adjustments."

Lu Jianwei closed her eyes contentedly. "What did you come to tell me?"

"The magistrate of Jiangzhou was indeed closely connected to Song Xian. A register was found in his residence."

"What kind of register?"

"A list of distinguished guests who visited Leisurely Cloud Manor," Pei Zhi said, lowering his voice. "Most were high-ranking officials and nobles from the court."

Lu Jianwei’s eyes snapped open, cold and sharp. "Little Liu mentioned that Leisurely Cloud Manor was a den of depravity. Those young women with modest martial talent often ‘died unexpectedly’ while running errands. But when she prepared their bodies for burial, she noticed the wounds… were anything but ordinary."

"Weiwei, I’ll investigate every last one of them."

"When the court established the Mystic Mirror Bureau, it was to capture the flower thief who defiled the daughters of high officials. Yet those same officials secretly brutalized countless innocent girls. How ironic."

Pei Zhi said, "They will be punished."

"Won’t this put you in a difficult position?" Lu Jianwei asked. "If these officials’ hypocritical masks are torn away, the court’s reputation will suffer. Aren’t you worried about the consequences?"

Pei Zhi chuckled. "They’re nothing but parasites. They won’t cause any real upheaval."

"The Chief Commander is quite formidable." Lu Jianwei rolled onto her side and draped an arm around the back of his neck.

Pei Zhi bent closer, their breaths mingling.

With a light tug, Lu Jianwei pulled him down beside her. The commanding aura he’d exuded moments ago vanished without a trace, replaced by utter compliance.

"Tell me about the Thousand Miles Tower."

Pei Zhi lay beside her, not daring to move. They’d been intimate before, but sitting in an embrace was one thing—lying together on a couch was entirely different.

He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Lu Jianwei, afraid his thoughts would scatter into incoherence.

"What would you like to know, Weiwei?"

"When was it established?"

"Sixty years ago."

"Before the current dynasty?"

"Mn. It only flourished after the founding of the Qi Dynasty."

"Who was the first tower master?"

"Zhuang Wenqing’s master."

"When did Zhuang Wenqing succeed him? And how?"

"Thirty years ago, after the previous tower master died."

"How did he die?"

"There are no rumors about it."

Lu Jianwei frowned. "What do you think Zhuang Wenqing’s goal is in all this?"

To wipe everyone out and dominate the martial world?

But the number of martial artists at the inn was insignificant. Even if she and the others were eliminated, thousands more remained.

A hand brushed against her brow, smoothing the crease away.

"Helian Zheng might know something."

Lu Jianwei batted his hand aside, amused. "Even if Helian Zheng knows, he may not be willing to talk."

"Once the Alliance Leader’s Decree is invoked, he’ll have no choice but to speak—unless he abandons the Carefree Sect and becomes a recluse."

"Alliance Leader’s Decree?"

Pei Zhi gradually grew accustomed to their closeness and, emboldened, turned onto his side, wrapping an arm around Lu Jianwei’s waist.

A lock of hair slipped from his temple, tangling with another on the couch.

"The Martial Alliance was once the sacred heart of the martial world, the arbiter of its laws. Once the decree is invoked, regardless of status, the subject must comply and provide an explanation to the martial community."

Lu Jianwei said, "It can’t be invoked arbitrarily, can it?"

"Conclusive evidence of a crime is required. Seven eighth-level or higher Martial Kings must jointly petition for it, and they must come from different sects."

"You’re suggesting the decree because you believe seven eighth-level Martial Kings will agree?" Lu Jianwei mentally tallied the guests who’d attended the inn’s opening ceremony—there weren’t enough.

Pei Zhi smiled. "The Martial Alliance, Heaven’s Pillar Hall, Luzhou Academy, and the Divine Physician Valley already account for four. The Green Cloud Peak, Luzhou Yan Family, and Golden Blade Trading Company also have eighth-level elders."

"The Divine Physician Valley stays out of martial affairs."

"They used to, but now they have a reason to seek your help."

Lu Jianwei laughed at his subtle flattery. She pushed him onto his back and leaned over him. "Commander Pei, you’re so well-informed. I have one more question for you."

"What's the matter?" The arm around her waist tightened gradually.

"Do you know of the herb called 'Earth Lotus'?"

"..."

"Never heard of it?"

"It does ring a bell." Pei Zhi frowned slightly, "But I can't quite recall it at the moment."

His ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‍earnest expression as he searched his memory was undeniably charming. Lu Jianwei felt a flutter in her heart and leaned in closer.

"I remember now." Pei Zhi snapped back to attention, his long lashes practically dancing with delight. "The Seven-Step Marsh—"

His words dissolved between their lips.

Outside the window, the winter jasmine bloomed in riotous splendor.