"This is very uncomfortable," Lian thought as he feasted. He could feel the weight of a dozen gazes. Every few moments, someone would shoot a glance at him, giggle, or whisper behind their hand before snapping their eyes away the moment he looked up.
"Young Master, was the food satisfactory?" The young lady, Fang Luan, spoke softly as she leaned in toward Lian's side, her presence a constant, fragrant shadow.
"Yes, it was very good. Thank you," Lian replied, setting his chopsticks down. He paused, feeling the restless hum of his Qi. "I think it is time for me to go. Can you tell me the cost of the meal and the room?"
As he reached for his spirit book, a sudden weight settled onto his lap.
"Ha... Nek—no, you are Mao Mao now."
The spirit beast purred loudly under Lian's hand. It had appeared out of thin air, but its form had changed drastically since the Small Universe. It no longer looked like a simple cat; it now resembled a small, elegant fox with vibrant orange-and-white fur and piercing, intelligent green eyes.
"So, where have you been hiding?" Lian thought, tilting his head slightly as he scratched the creature behind its ears.
"Waoo, look at that," one of the men at a nearby table scoffed, though he kept his voice low. "Tch. I'm sure he's just some spoiled noble from a big sect. They even gave him a high-grade magic beast to keep as a pet."
"Shhh! Are you drunk?" his companion hissed, hitting him under the table to quiet him. "Keep it down! If he's from a reputable family, we'll be in deep trouble if you offend him. Look at those robes—that's not common silk."
"Haaaaa! How pretty!" Fang Luan couldn't contain herself. She reached out and scooped Mao Mao from Lian's hands, raising the fox-cat up to her eye level. Her eyes shimmered with pure joy, her skin flushing with excitement as the spirit beast let out a soft, melodic trill.
Just as Fang Luan leaned in to plant a kiss on the creature's head, Mao Mao vanished from her grasp. In a flicker of red and white light, the spirit fox reappeared on Lian's shoulder, its green eyes narrowed with clear disdain for anyone who wasn't its master.
"Hahaha... sorry about that. He doesn't take well to strangers," Lian chuckled, his voice calm and melodic.
"Hmph! What a shame... he's so cute," the girl pouted, pulling out a small writing plaque to calculate the bill. "That comes to fifty xiǎoqián xìnyòng (small money credits)," she said, looking up at him expectantly.
"Fifty small money, huh?" Lian felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck. "Bo only gave me those 'Big Money' plaques. I wonder if they even function as normal currency here, or if the denominations are too high."
Before he could reach into his spirit book, a chair scraped harshly against the floorboards. A man stood up, his voice booming with the forced confidence of the wealthy.
"Ha! What's the matter, Young Master? Don't have the copper for a simple meal?"
The speaker was a brute of a man, plump and imposing, with a stomach wider than an ancient tree trunk. His face was a round moon with small, greedy eyes peering out from under a simple silk hat.
"I'll pay for your meal," the brute continued, his gaze locked onto Mao Mao with predatory interest. "In fact, I'll buy that pet off you. I'll even give you a Big Money plaque for it. What do you say?"
Lian's eyes cooled. "A brave man," he thought, his irritation beginning to simmer beneath his skin. "He's trying to buy a spirit beast he can't possibly control, and he sounds awfully arrogant. He thinks he can buy my companion with a single plaque?"
Lian turned his head slightly, facing the man with a gaze that felt like a blade. "No. I am fine. I will pay for myself, and Mao is not for sale. I would strongly advise you to lose any thoughts of it."
The man didn't take the hint. He "bubbled" forward, his heavy steps shaking the floorboards. "No, no! If one plaque isn't enough, I'll give you two! No, three!" His meaty hands flailed about, reaching toward Lian's shoulder to snatch the fox.
"Hehehe... that must be it," the plump man muttered to himself, his eyes glazed with intoxicated delusion. "I saw the way the girls were looking at him. It's the fox. If I get my hands on that creature, wouldn't the 'Ice Goddess' look at me the same way? Hehehe..."
The man staggered forward, his meaty palm open and reaching. But the moment his fingers were inches from Mao Mao's fur, the air shifted.
Snap!
Lian's hand moved with a speed that defied the common eye. With a casual flick of his wrist, he swatted the merchant's hand away. The impact sounded like a whip crack against the man's skin.
"Tch! What the hell?" The merchant recoiled, clutching his throbbing hand as his face twisted in a mixture of shock and rage. "Did you just strike me? Do you even know who I am, you ingrate? I was doing you a favour!"
The atmosphere in the inn turned icy. Before the merchant could scream another insult, two figures materialised at his side. They were dressed in deep green attire, the character 唐 (Tang) embroidered in bold, aggressive strokes on the back of their robes.
One was an elderly man with a long, wispy beard that reached his chest, his eyes narrowed as he appraised Lian. Beside him stood a man who appeared to be in his late thirties—though his dense Qi suggested he was at least a century old. His features were sharply defined, and a heavy sabre hung with ominous weight on his left hip.
The younger master stepped forward, his hand resting on the pommel of his blade. The presence of the Tang Clan sent a wave of hushed whispers through the room.
"Is that the Tang Clan's security?" someone whispered. "That merchant must be their supplier. The kid is in deep trouble now."
Lian didn't move. He simply looked at the two Tang masters, his grey eyes reflecting nothing but a quiet, dangerous void.
"Young man, I will advise you: give up that creature and leave this place at once if you do not wish to die." The elderly Tang master's voice was like gravel, cold and unyielding.
The crowd erupted into a frantic mumble. "He's gone and done it now," a patron whispered, pulling his chair back. "To think he would offend the Tang Clan. He's a dead man walking; no one survives their hidden poisons."
Lian let out a sharp, derisive breath. "Tch. You must be joking. Who are you to comman—"
He didn't finish the sentence. His hand moved in a violent blur, fingers snapping shut less than an inch from his own throat. He slowly opened his palm, revealing two slender, black-tipped needles trembling between his fingers.
"What is this?" Lian held them high for the entire inn to see. The tips shimmered with an oily, purple hue, the unmistakable mark of a deadly neurotoxin.
"So this is how you conduct your affairs? Like cowards?" Lian's voice dropped an octave, vibrating. "You dare ambush me with poison darts in a public hall?"
In the next heartbeat, Lian vanished.
A split second later, a thunderous CRASH echoed from the rafters at the far end of the hall. Lian reappeared, standing atop a high beam, holding a thin, masked man by the throat.
"So, you're the little rat that just tried to assassinate me, huh?" Lian's grip tightened, the wood beneath his feet splintering under the pressure of his aura.
Below him, the sabre-master's face went pale. He hadn't even seen Lian move. He turned toward the plump merchant, his voice trembling for the first time.
"Young Master... I fear we have made a grave mistake. We have offended a true Master."