Chapter Seventeen: The Vile Gatekeepers of the Fenggu Manor

As Qian Mubai finished speaking, a dart shot out from behind Red Mole. Qin Xiaomo cried out, “Red Hair, watch out!” Red Mole spun around, swinging his copper wire chain to deflect the dart, which buried itself deep into a boulder ten meters away.

Qin Xiaomo stared wide-eyed, about to ask why their earlier fight had seemed so restrained.

Just then, six men in black burst out from behind the stone, some wielding short swords, others brandishing hidden weapons, all rushing toward Qin Xiaomo.

Red Mole and Cold Face leapt into action, blocking the black-clad men’s path with their copper wire chains. The attackers spun around, launching themselves at them.

Cold Face shouted, “Big Brother, they’re bullying us because we’re outnumbered!”

“Who’s bullying whom? That’s yet to be seen!” Red Mole sneered.

A large blade swept upward, knocking aside darts and short swords alike. Sparks crackled and danced across the blade, creating a dazzling display in the dark night.

Suddenly, the men in black split into two groups: four tangled with Red Mole and Cold Face, while the remaining two veered off to assassinate Qin Xiaomo.

The pair lunged at Qin Xiaomo. She stared into their exposed eyes, feeling something was amiss.

One black-clad man raised his short sword, ready to strike. Qin Xiaomo gripped the Xuanli Blade tightly, holding it before her chest. As the attacker prepared to move, he hesitated upon seeing the blade. “How does this divine weapon end up in your hands?” came a rasping voice, grating like sandpaper.

Hearing their voices, Red Mole and Cold Face suddenly realized their origins. They jumped to the fire, swinging the large blade to scatter sparks like rain upon the black-clad men. A chorus of shrill cries followed, and the attackers transformed into burning paper effigies.

“They’re paper men?” Qin Xiaomo exclaimed in astonishment, stepping forward to nudge the ashes with her foot. The ash scattered in the wind. “How did you know?” she asked Red Mole.

“We’ve roamed the martial world for years. That sound was unmistakably paper rubbing together. Only the people from the Nether Hall could make such a noise—they specialize in using paper effigies as soldiers, controlling them from afar, but their range is limited to three miles. We should leave now. There could be more coming, and they won’t be so easy to deal with,” Red Mole said seriously.

“Yes, the Nether Hall is troublesome. Let’s return to the city for now and discuss matters tomorrow,” Qian Mubai agreed, producing a jade whistle from his sleeve. With a gentle blow, the sound of hooves grew closer. A white horse galloped over from afar. Qian Mubai lifted Qin Xiaomo onto the horse and turned to Red Mole and Cold Face. “Desert City, meet at the Fenggu Inn.” With that, they rode off into the night.

“Boss, are we really going to follow them from now on?”

“We’d only heard rumors that Qin Xiaomo was a prophet and wanted to test her abilities. But it turns out Qian Mubai is the true master. He defeated us without even lifting a hand. Following them is the right choice!” Red Mole gazed deeply into the distance.

“Boss, can’t we just make our own way? Why follow them—it’s so restrictive,” Cold Face grumbled unhappily.

“You know as well as I do how little money we have. So what’ll it be—freedom or drumsticks?”

“Boss, the Fenggu Inn is supposed to be the best tavern in Desert City. I’ve never been inside—let’s hurry!” Cold Face’s spirits soared at the mention of drumsticks.

“I’ll make sure you never suffer again. Come, let’s go eat drumsticks!” Red Mole said, pulling Cold Face along, vanishing into the night like a gust of wind.

Desert City, Fenggu Inn.

Qian Mubai rode with Qin Xiaomo to the inn. A gravel road, embedded in sand, stretched through the street. Along it were Spring Fragrance Pavilion, jewelry shops, pawnshops, treasure halls, and clinics. Lanterns on both sides made the night as bright as day.

The air was rich with the scent of wine, and traffic bustled endlessly. If not for the occasional gusts of yellow sand swirling across the street, it would have felt just like Mirror Void City.

Before they even dismounted, they saw crowds gathered at the entrance. Listening closely, they heard Red Mole and a young attendant arguing fiercely.

Qin Xiaomo stared in surprise and asked Qian Mubai, “How did they get here so quickly?”

Qian Mubai smiled, “That’s their real skill.”

“You mean they held back on purpose earlier? Testing us?”

“They held back, yes—testing, not attacking in earnest. It seems they have no malicious intent,” Qian Mubai had deliberately left them a way out.

“How can you be sure? They were trying to kill us just now.”

“Though their moves seemed ruthless, they left gaps between each strike. Only at the end, with the copper wire chain, did they try their full strength—just to gauge my abilities.”

“Are you overestimating them? They don’t seem all that clever—and would they really want to follow us? What if they try to assassinate us on the road?” Qin Xiaomo recalled Cold Face’s foolish expression, full of doubts.

“Did you notice their shoes? If they weren’t truly broke, their shoes wouldn’t be so worn—the tops torn, the soles thin to nothing. During the fight, their leader’s stomach kept rumbling, while the others’ didn’t. He looks out for his brothers first, showing loyalty; he’d only attack openly, never from the shadows. I gave them a chance to leave, but they still came, knowing the difference in skill. What does that tell you?” Qian Mubai jumped off the horse and asked Qin Xiaomo.

After a moment’s thought, Qin Xiaomo looked at the arguing crowd. “Drumsticks?”

Qian Mubai smiled, watching the scene unfold.

The attendant said, “I told you already, our inn’s too grand for beggars. If you don’t have money, don’t block the doorway. Want drumsticks? Hah! Even if I threw them away, I wouldn’t give you any!” With that, he tossed a drumstick at their feet and clapped his hands. “Go on, get lost! Don’t dirty our inn.”

“You dog! Looking down on others—how dare you! I’ll knock your teeth out!” Red Mole rolled up his sleeves, about to charge forward, but Cold Face held him back. “Boss, why insult dogs? Remember our childhood friend, Little Black from Daming Lake?”

“Let go!” Red Mole struggled.

“Boss, there are so many of them...” He glanced around at the dozen burly men showing off their muscles.

“I’m not afraid of them!” Unable to break free, Red Mole simply kicked forward.

“Go ahead, hit me! But don’t blame me for not warning you—this is Desert City, and Fenggu Inn belongs to our Young Lord. If you hurt me, when he returns, he’ll make sure you pay. Let’s see if you can leave here in one piece!”

“Forget it, boss, let’s leave. I don’t need drumsticks. I’m not hungry at all,” Cold Face tugged at Red Mole.

“We’ve traveled over fifty miles today—how could you not be hungry? If I hadn’t given all my silver to the others, you wouldn’t be suffering this. Besides, we still need to wait for Miss Qin.” Red Mole, a burly man of seven feet, broad-shouldered and muscular, turned red-eyed with guilt.

Qin Xiaomo, standing nearby, was furious and shouted, “Is anyone there? We’ve been standing here forever!” Qian Mubai crossed his arms, watching like a spectator.

“Qin...” Red Mole turned toward the crowd, saw Qin Xiaomo signaling from a distance, and was about to call out when Cold Face tugged him back, so he held his tongue.

The attendant, seeing noble guests arrive on horseback, quickly pushed through the crowd. “Disperse, disperse!” He hurried forward, ingratiating himself. “Ah, honored guests, forgive us for the commotion.” He glanced at Red Mole, then continued, “Who knows where these beggars came from—don’t let them spoil your mood. Please, follow me. Someone, take their horse and feed it well.”

“Wait! My horse is precious. Don’t just feed it any rough fodder,” Qin Xiaomo said, stroking the horse’s mane without even looking up.

“Of course, we’ll select the finest hay for your horse. Rest assured,” the attendant replied.

“By the way, judging by your clothes, your wages must be decent,” Qin Xiaomo said conversationally.

“They’re all right—mainly we rely on tips from noble guests to get by,” the attendant replied, rubbing his fingers together.

“Oh, you reminded me!” Qin Xiaomo drew two ounces of gold from her bosom—all of Qian Mubai’s ill-gotten silver, converted into gold.

The attendant’s eyes widened at the sight of gold. In this city and district, only wealthy merchants or royal kin could produce gold; commoners rarely even saw it.

Qin Xiaomo discreetly handed it to him, and the attendant hurriedly tucked it into his sleeve, afraid the other staff might see and claim a share.

Nearly kneeling in gratitude, the attendant gushed, “Thank you, honored guest, thank you! Please, come inside. Second floor, Heaven Room for the two noble guests! Tonight, all your food and drink will be personally attended to by me—I hope you’ll be satisfied!”

“Wait, you seemed lively in the argument just now. We’re all travelers here; if possible, I’d like to bring these two guests along. Would that be acceptable?” Qin Xiaomo gestured to Red Mole and Cold Face.

“O-of course! You’re kind-hearted,” the attendant replied, making a face at them—lucky bastards. He said sarcastically, “You two as well, please.”

“Hmph!” Red Mole flicked his sleeve, rolling his eyes as he strode inside with Cold Face.

“Thank you,” Qin Xiaomo said politely, secretly curling her lips. Dare to bully me...

End.