No Fighting Allowed in the Inn-Chapter 150

In Luozhou City, a steed galloped out from the headquarters of the Martial Alliance, streaking like a meteor toward the city gates.

The rider was tall, handsome, and exuded an extraordinary aura.

A young martial artist standing by the roadside asked curiously, "Who is that? Why is he leaving the city at this hour?"

A middle-aged martial artist beside him replied, "You don’t recognize him?"

"Is he that impressive?"

"The current leader of the Martial Alliance—what do you think?"

"You mean… Alliance Leader Ying?!" The young man’s eyes widened as he stared at the vanishing figure. "Why is Alliance Leader Ying in such a hurry? Did something major happen in the martial world?"

"Tsk, where have you been hiding? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Eight Directions Inn?"

The young man flushed. "Of course I have!"

"Then you should know that every year before the winter solstice, Alliance Leader Ying travels to Fengzhou to reunite with the inn’s staff."

"Huh?" The young man was puzzled. "Why?"

"They’re old friends. They make it a point to gather once a year." The middle-aged man sighed. "Judging by Alliance Leader Ying’s haste, he must have been delayed by alliance affairs and is worried about missing the reunion."

The young man frowned. "Even for old friends, meeting every single year seems excessive."

"What do you know? When Manager Lu was still around, he always returned to Fengzhou before the first snowfall. The tradition carried on after him."

Even after Manager Lu vanished from the martial world, the inn’s staff kept the custom alive.

The young man pressed, "Manager Lu returned before the snow, so why is it now before the winter solstice?"

"Back then, all the staff were in Fengzhou. Manager Lu and Young Master Pei roamed the land as wandering heroes, returning to the inn when the snow was about to fall. It’s all written in the tales—how do you not know this?"

"Then why the change to the winter solstice?"

"Nowadays, the staff are scattered across the land. How could they all return to Fengzhou before the snow? After Manager Lu left, they adjusted it to the winter solstice."

"Scattered across the land?"

"The former staff are now among the martial world’s top masters. Alliance Leader Ying resides in Luozhou City; Hero Yan travels constantly with Commander Qi on official business; Doctor Yun roams the land healing the sick; Hero Yue now heads the Mutual Aid Society, overseeing the martial world’s affairs; Senior Xue collects folk tunes to compose new melodies; and as for Senior Liang, the Phantom Thief, he delights in humiliating those who steal treasures."

The martial world’s ethos had shifted greatly over the decades. The new generation was raised on the creed of "punishing evil and upholding justice," and cases of wanton killing had become rare.

But thefts of precious artifacts remained common.

Yet who could escape the Phantom Thief’s keen eyes?

The young man asked, "Didn’t Manager Lu have three disciples?"

"Indeed. The current manager of the Eight Directions Inn is Manager Lu’s eldest disciple, Xue Guanhe. Manager Xue’s blade skills were personally taught by Manager Lu. There’s also a younger disciple, the mother of Doctor Yun, whose hidden weapon techniques are formidable."

"I see." The young man nodded solemnly. "What a pity I never got to witness Manager Lu’s greatness."

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‍middle-aged man smirked. "I was fortunate enough to see him—truly a man beyond ordinary measure."

Fengzhou, Eight Directions Inn.

Xue Guanhe practiced his blade in the courtyard when a snowflake landed on his brow.

It had begun to snow.

A child ran into the yard, giggling. "Uncle Xue! Daddy said Uncle Yue and the others are coming back today. Is that true?"

Xue Guanhe sheathed his blade, his imposing aura softening into warmth.

"What else did your daddy say?"

The child pouted. "He also said that after the New Year, he’s sending me to school to learn letters. I don’t want to go!"

"How will you read your family’s forging manuals if you don’t learn? And how will you inherit your grandfather and father’s legacy?"

The child huffed. "I don’t want to be a forger!"

"Then what do you want to be?"

"I want to be like Uncle Liang—"

A shoe flew sideways, smacking the child’s rear and sending him stumbling until he clung to Xue Guanhe’s leg for balance.

"You little rascal! What nonsense are you spouting?"

Yao Qing strode over, scooping the child up by the collar. "Manager Xue, don’t mind the boy’s foolishness."

The Yao family owed Manager Lu a great debt—his parents’ lives had been saved by Manager Lu, and as an infant, he himself had been cured of poison by the man.

They had vowed to forge weapons for the Eight Directions Inn for generations.

How could a Yao descendant refuse the family craft?

Xue Guanhe understood his concern and said gently, "Yao Qing, when Manager Lu was here, he never forced anyone’s path. Everyone has their own way. Don’t stifle Bao’s potential just because of the past."

"Manager Xue, I understand." Yao Qing picked up his shoe and slipped it back on. "The boy has talent for forging, but he’s mischievous. He needs discipline."

Xue Guanhe smiled. "He’s still young. Let him explore beyond forging—it won’t hurt."

"Your advice is wise. I’ll remember it." Yao Qing nodded, leading the child away.

The snow fell heavier now.

Xue Guanhe sighed inwardly and turned toward the main hall.

Hoofbeats approached in the distance. His ears twitched, and he spun around just as three riders arrived outside the courtyard.

"Sister Xue, Sister Yao, Sister Xiaotao!" He greeted them warmly. "Come in—the tea is already warming on the stove." frёewebηovel.cѳm

Helian Xue dismounted. "The others haven’t arrived yet?"

"No."

"Then we’re the earliest." Shangguan Yao swung down from her horse, guiding Little Tao inside with Helian Xue.

An inn attendant led their horses to the stable.

The main hall remained much as it always had. The four gathered around a table as Xue Guanhe poured tea. "How did you three end up traveling together?"

"We met on the road," Shangguan Yao said, her eyes bright. "I ran into Sister Atiao in Jiangzhou. She was treating patients and might be delayed."

"Ah, her." Xue Guanhe shook his head. "I hope she’s eating well and hasn’t lost weight."

Helian Xue added, "I saw Yue in Jiangzhou. The Society still has loose ends, so he’ll be late too."

"Everyone’s so busy these days."

Before he could finish, more hoofbeats sounded.

"Old Xue! Seems your skills haven’t improved much this year." Wen Nai’s voice carried ahead of him.

Xue Guanhe stepped out to welcome him, rolling his eyes. "Look who’s talking."

"I’m just a merchant. You’re the manager of the Eight Directions Inn."

"Enough chatter. Get inside."

As Wen Nai entered, a head popped over the courtyard wall.

"Long time no see, everyone!"

Xue Guanhe sighed. "Brother Liang, after all these years, you still haven’t learned to use the door?"

"Don’t talk like Manager Lu—it gives me the chills." With a laugh, Liang Shangjun vaulted over the wall, light as a wisp of smoke, and slipped into the hall.

"If Manager Lu heard you say that, she’d probably punish you by making you clean the stables again."

Yue Shu seemed to shrink the distance between them, stepping from the courtyard onto the corridor in an instant, brushing off the snow and wind from his clothes.

Liang Shangjun scoffed, "I wish she would punish me!"

A hush fell over the hall, inside and out.

After a long pause, Xue Guanhe snapped out of it and said with a smile, "This is our once-a-year gathering. No need for gloomy faces—come in and sit. The others should be arriving soon."

"I’ll go pay my respects to Uncle Zhang first." Yue Shu set down his belongings and stepped into the room Uncle Zhang had once lived in. Inside stood a memorial tablet.

He lit incense, bowed several times, and tried to force a smile to share some happy memories—but for some reason, the corners of his mouth refused to lift.

Taking a deep breath, he swallowed back his tears and murmured, "Uncle Zhang, I miss you. And I miss Manager Lu too."

"Yue, don’t stay cooped up in there." Yun Hui’s gentle voice came from outside the door. "Everyone wants to hear about your adventures at the alliance meeting."

Yue Shu replied, "Coming."

He composed himself and returned to the hall, taking a seat at the table where a cup of hot tea and a few plates of his favorite pastries awaited him.

"Thank you, Aunt Yun."

"No need for formalities with me." Yun Hui’s expression was warm. "The alliance affairs must be exhausting—you’ve lost weight."

"Aunt Yun, I’ve lost weight too. Why don’t you fuss over me?" Liang Shangjun whined pitifully.

Yun Hui teased, "You have Aunt Liang to fuss over you."

"She doesn’t care about me—she just uses me for entertainment." Liang Shangjun bit into a pastry with exaggerated frustration, cheeks puffing out.

"Who says I don’t care?" A striking young woman appeared at the door, lifting a bundle in her hand. "Aunt Liang sent these for you."

Liang Shangjun turned his head away with a huff.

"Sister Wu, Brother Ying isn’t here yet," Yue Shu interjected, smoothing things over. "What did Aunt Liang send?"

Wu Dai tossed the bag at Liang Shangjun. "All your favorite snacks."

"Like I care." But even as he spoke, his hands betrayed him, already opening the bag.

The others stifled their laughter.

"What’s the point of seeing Ying Wumian just once a year?" Liang Shangjun grumbled, squatting on the bench. "If that sect’s rules need changing, they should just abolish them altogether. No need to act like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl."

Over the years, the rules of the reclusive sects had loosened, but secrecy still imposed many restrictions.

Wu Dai arched a brow. "It’s not what you all think between him and me."

"You’ve been saying that for years. Who believes it?"

"I do." A cool voice cut through the wind and snow.

Tiao stood on the corridor, shaking the slush from her cloak, her medical case in hand.

"Let me take that." Xue Guanhe hurried over, relieving her of the case and her cloak. "Come inside and warm up with some tea."

Wu Dai grinned. "Manager Xue, ever the considerate one."

"Brother Yan and Brother Ying should be here soon. I’ll start preparing in the kitchen." Xue Guanhe deftly changed the subject. "How about hot pot for dinner?"

Wen Nai nodded. "Perfect for a snowy night."

"And after eating, are you all going out to build snow lions again?" Liang Shangjun teased. "Haven’t you gotten tired of that after all these years?"

Xue Guanhe chuckled. "Never gets old."

Yue Shu echoed, "Never gets old."

The hall gradually quieted, the howling wind outside the only sound.

Everyone’s gaze drifted toward the courtyard, as if hoping to glimpse familiar figures through the swirling snow—

And indeed, familiar figures arrived.

Yan Feicang, Qi Yan, and Ying Wumian stepped into the courtyard, their guarded expressions softening at the sight of their old friends gathered inside.

The hot pot was brought out, and everyone took their seats around the table—except for the two empty chairs at the head.

The broth bubbled merrily, steam curling upward as they ate and shared stories from the past year.

Then, a knock sounded at the gate.

Chopsticks froze mid-air. The group exchanged glances, eyes alight with excitement and nervous anticipation.

At this hour, who else could it be but—

"Innkeeper, is anyone here?"

A hoarse, aged voice shattered their hopes.

Xue Guanhe released a pulse of inner energy to open the gate.

An old woman and a young girl stood outside, their thin clothes dusted with snow, shivering violently.

The old woman’s knees buckled as if to kneel, but an unseen force held her up.

"Elder, there’s no need for that," Xue Guanhe said, stepping onto the corridor.

The old woman trembled. "Please, kind sir, spare a bowl of hot water."

She and the girl were gaunt, lips blue from cold—refugees fleeing hardship elsewhere.

Xue Guanhe’s heart ached. "Come inside and warm up first. I’ll make you some noodles."

For those long starved, hot pot would be too rich. Simple noodles were gentler.

He turned toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Yue, pour them some tea first."

But Yue Shu didn’t answer.

"Yue?" Xue Guanhe looked back—and froze.

In the flickering candlelight, Yue Shu’s face was streaked with tears.