Chapter 30: The Inn Ablaze (Part One)

The girl's fingertips brushed lightly over him, sending a strange tingling sensation through his skin. The scabbed wound was already somewhat itchy, and her touch made it even more pronounced.

Fang Yue, searching for something to say, remarked, “Miss Sun, your father isn't here today. Has he gone out to treat patients again?”

Sun Qinglu nodded and replied, “My father went to the east side of the city. There's an old woman there who's been ill and too frail to leave her house, so my father went to examine her.”

As if suddenly recalling something, she added, “He’ll be back soon.”

Fang Yue found her follow-up oddly phrased, but couldn't quite place why. Instinctively, he answered, “Yes, it’s rather dangerous outside these days. It's best he returns early.”

Sun Qinglu simply murmured in assent, and silence settled between them. She applied an herbal ointment to the scab and the area around it, then took out a clean bandage and began to wrap it around his arm.

Fang Yue moved his arm, feeling a bit restricted. He wanted to return to the martial arts hall, and this might hinder his training.

“The wound’s already scabbed over. Is the bandage still necessary?” he asked.

Sun Qinglu arched her delicate brows, insisting, “Absolutely. The bandage will prevent the wound from tearing open. You must listen to the doctor.”

“All right,” Fang Yue conceded, not wishing to argue. He changed the subject, “How much longer until my wounds fully heal? At least enough not to hinder my movements.”

“Wounds aren’t so easily healed,” she replied. “This cut on your shoulder was from a blade. Most people would need at least half a month. Your constitution is good and you’ve recovered well, but you’ll still need six or seven days before you can move without risk. Otherwise, any strenuous movement could reopen the wound.”

Fang Yue frowned slightly. He had been careful with his training, but now, with demons and specters rampant in the county and unrest mounting, he was eager to improve his skills—he couldn’t afford to lose time.

“Still, a wound that would take most people more than half a month to heal is nearly cured in eight or nine days for me. My physical improvement is significant. As long as I can grasp the fundamentals of internal energy, I can continue to develop the ‘Way-Seeking Fist’. Once I produce internal energy, both my physique and strength will undergo a qualitative leap.”

He focused his mind on the “Virtue System” interface in his consciousness—he had just over two hundred virtue points left. Advancing the first level of the Way-Seeking Fist had cost 120 virtue points, and transmitting the technique had consumed another 80, totaling two hundred. Advancing to the second level and transmitting it would surely require more than two hundred virtue points—his current total was likely insufficient.

He had considered developing a sword technique to avoid fighting haphazardly in real combat, but with so few virtue points, he had to save them for advancing the Way-Seeking Fist, as it was foundational and would yield the greatest improvement in strength.

…

Leaving the Sun family clinic, Fang Yue headed toward South Street. He had previously learned that the largest martial arts hall in the county was called “Great Righteousness Martial Hall,” located near the outskirts on South Street.

He had not walked far when a commotion erupted ahead, drawing his curiosity. He quickened his pace to see what was happening.

He saw the county magistrate Zhang leading a large group of people, marching grandly in that direction. Judging by their route, they seemed headed for the Tongfu Inn—where Fang Yue himself had once stayed.

Of course, the inn now carried a new name—“Bliss Inn”—having become a stronghold for a demon cult emissary.

Fang Yue was surprised, unsure what Magistrate Zhang intended; just a few days before, the man had been terrified out of his wits by the carnage in that very place, yet today he dared return.

“Could he have found some new support?” Fang Yue wondered. He was also curious about what the inn had become, so he followed them.

He was not alone—many others trailed along, eager to see the spectacle. As they walked, Fang Yue listened to those around him discussing the matter and soon understood what was going on.

It turned out that after that fateful night, the inn had been taken over by the demon emissary and renamed “Bliss Inn.” By day, it was utterly deserted; by night, it became lively with music and revelry.

Because Fang Yue had previously sent the inn’s servant Aguai to report the incident to the county office, the authorities were aware of what had happened and had stationed guards to keep people away. Notices were posted throughout the city, warning everyone to stay clear of the inn.

Yet, despite these strict orders, some people could not resist temptation. Especially at night, the inn would be brightly lit, with the laughter of women floating out—soft and beguiling, enchanting and tempting.

In such an entertainment-starved age, it was an irresistible lure. Some townsfolk or passersby, taking advantage of a lapse in the guards’ vigilance, would sneak into the inn under cover of darkness.

Of course, none who slipped into the inn ever returned.

In just two days, more than a dozen men had gone missing in this way. Rumor held that at night, the voices of these missing men could still be heard inside, but by day, the inn was empty.

Some bold souls had attempted to enter at night to search for the missing, but they too vanished without a trace.

This bizarre affair quickly spread throughout the county, sparking fear and unrest, especially as it coincided with a spate of hauntings and monster sightings.

Now, Magistrate Zhang had gathered men from the county office, bringing oil, firewood, and charcoal—planning to burn the inn to the ground while the demons and monsters were absent by day, hoping to eradicate the evil at its source.

Fang Yue thought the idea was sound, though whether it would work was another matter.

Arriving at the scene, Fang Yue looked up to see the inn’s plaque gleaming in the sunlight, the words “Tongfu Inn” shining brightly above the door.

Within, all was deathly still—no sign of life.

A crowd had already gathered, locals drawn by the news that the magistrate would burn the inn.

“Today, I am here to rid the people of this evil, to destroy this inn possessed by malign forces. As the county magistrate of Ping’an, I—”

After a righteous speech, Magistrate Zhang found the crowd unresponsive and, dissatisfied, seemed about to continue.

Impatience arose among the onlookers, and someone shouted, “Sir, hurry and set the fire—burn the evil spirits!”

“Burn it, burn it!” the crowd began to chant, faces a mixture of fear and excitement.

Magistrate Zhang decided to heed public sentiment. With two sharp coughs, he ordered, “Men, prepare at once!”

The officers and militia began unloading oil, firewood, and charcoal, tossing them from a distance into the inn.

Taking a torch from his subordinate, Magistrate Zhang assumed a dignified, resolute air and strode toward the inn.

When he was close enough, he hurled the torch inside with all his might.