Qin Ren sat calmly in his seat, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched the two men standing at the doorway.
The one on the left wore rags caked with layers of filth, indistinguishable from a street beggar. His hair was a greasy mess, speckled with white dandruff and streaks of dried black grime. His face was etched with wrinkles and mischief, and his beady eyes glimmered with perverse malice.
The one on the right looked just as wretched, with a face that begged for a beating. A half-chewed leaf clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth.
Both men glared at Qin Ren with murderous hostility. If looks could kill, Qin Ren would have been pulverized on the spot.
"You brat!" growled the man on the left. "D'you know who I am? I'm Cui Yingjun—'The Western Gambler'! You dare laugh at me? Courting death, are you?!"
Qin Ren raised an eyebrow and replied with a chuckle, "Oh? And might I ask who this gallant fellow beside you is?"
The second man snorted coldly and rasped in a voice full of tragic flair, "I am Zhen Xiaosa—the coldest of blades, the silent killer who strikes from ten steps and leaves no trail over a thousand miles!"
Qin Ren burst into laughter. "Cui Yingjun? Zhen Xiaosa? Pfft—'Truly Handsome and Really Dashing'? Look at you two—how dare you disgrace such names!"
Cui Yingjun inhaled deeply, stretching out his filthy hands. "I didn't want to lower myself to deal with a junior like you… but if I don't teach you a lesson, who'll ever take 'The Western Gambler' seriously again?"
Qin Ren eyed his hands. Ordinary at first glance—until you noticed the thick, crusted grime under his fingernails. He wondered how long it had been since the man last washed.
Meanwhile, Zhen Xiaosa stood motionless. He spoke through clenched teeth, "Kid, I've roamed the martial world, never once mocked like this. And as an assassin, my identity is supposed to remain secret. Now that you know who I am… even if I wished to spare you, my blade wouldn't allow it!"
He drew his sword with a dramatic flourish.
It was a rusted blade, three feet long, full of nicks and pocks. More a saw than a sword, and entirely devoid of luster.
Still, once drawn, Zhen Xiaosa's demeanor transformed. His cowardly air vanished, replaced by a deadly calm. A chill wind—wherever it came from—rustled their tattered robes, sending dust swirling.
Qin Ren, however, remained seated, cool and immovable like a mountain. These two clowns, with all their bluster, still didn't measure up to the demon Bu Ou he'd slain not long ago.
As the two men poised to strike—together, no less—it became obvious they weren't the great names they claimed. No reputable martial artist would stoop to gang up on a lone young man.
Cui Yingjun lunged first, palms slicing through the air in a flurry of ghostly shadows. The wind from his strike could barely flutter a sheet of paper.
Zhen Xiaosa followed, thrusting his bent sword in a trembling, sluggish arc like a drunken snake crawling across a dusty path.
Their target? Qin Ren, still smiling, gently fanning himself.
He didn't dodge.
Instead, he calmly reached into his robe and, with a swift motion, slapped something down on the table.
Both attackers froze, eyes glued to the item now resting before them.
A banknote—bright, crisp, and glittering with golden promise.
One hundred taels of gold.
Cui Yingjun broke into a sweat, his hands trembling uncontrollably.
Zhen Xiaosa's eyes lit up, and the veins on his sword hand bulged as he fought to contain his excitement.
Qin Ren sipped his tea and said leisurely, "Whoever kills the other gets the gold."
They moved instantly.
Cui Yingjun struck with both palms, while Zhen Xiaosa jabbed forward. But in such close quarters, a sword was no match for a pair of dirty hands.
Cui's left palm slammed into Zhen's forehead; the right smashed into his ribs.
Zhen's sword stopped just short of Cui's neck.
Zhen Xiaosa coughed blood and flew backward, crashing into the divider before flopping to the floor like a broken doll.
He glared at Cui, blood seeping from every orifice. "You… son of a…"
He died mid-curse.
Cui Yingjun laughed heartily. "Told you—I can't stand anyone who's happier than me. You let your guard down, you die."
Then he bowed low before Qin Ren. "Master, about the gold…"
"It's yours," Qin Ren said coolly.
Eyes sparkling, Cui lunged forward, faster than when he'd attacked. But just before his fingers reached the banknote, Qin Ren's fan pressed down atop it.
Cui froze. "S-Sir? What do you mean?"
Qin Ren smirked. "You really think that's all I'm offering?"
Cui gulped. "This… this is already more than I've ever owned! I wouldn't dare ask for more!"
Qin Ren nodded, then slowly drew out another golden banknote. "If I gave you another one… how would you repay me?"
Cui trembled. "I would walk through fire and water for you! Even if you wanted me to give myself to you, I wouldn't hesitate!"
Qin Ren muttered inwardly, Shameless... utterly shameless.
"Why would I want you, huh?" he sneered. Then his expression turned sly. "But I've heard your adopted daughter ranks third on the famed Jianghu Beauties List… 'The Proud Snow, Cold Plum'? Hm. You know what I'm thinking."
Cui, sharp despite his filth, chuckled in reply. "Say no more, young master. She's here—in a guest room in the back garden. If you wish, I shall make the arrangements at once!"
Qin Ren nodded in approval. "Not bad. Useless in a fight, but you know how to read people. With a name like that, she must be proud and untouchable, huh? Even if you introduce her to me, I might not be able to bed her."
Cui beamed. "No need to worry, young master. I have some expertise with… substances. I can take care of everything. All you need to do is enjoy yourself!"
Qin Ren was half-amused, half-disgusted. This man would sell his soul for a tael of silver. "Tell me," he asked with a sneer, "how does trash like you end up raising a girl like that?"
Cui didn't flinch. "She lost her family at three. I found her in a pile of garbage and raised her until she was seven. Then the master of the Plum Blossom Sword Sect saw her potential and took her as a disciple. Gave me ten taels of silver… and a beating. She only came down from the mountain last year after her master died. Despite being gone for ten years, she still remembers me and wants to repay my kindness. It's thanks to her I can even afford a meal in this inn."
Qin Ren rolled his eyes. And yet you're still planning to sell her off… He sighed. At least better me than that corpse, Zhen Xiaosa.
"Old Cui," he said, "you take care of everything. I'll be in one of the Emperor Suites tonight. Which one, I haven't decided. But there are only two—you'll find me easily. Do your job well, and there's more gold for you. Screw it up, and I'll slice your tendons, your toes, and your little buddy too. Now take that corpse and get out. I want some peace."
Cui bowed repeatedly, scooped up the banknotes, and dragged Zhen Xiaosa's limp body away.
Qin Ren turned to look out the window. Rain still fell softly over the southern town. The streets were calm and gentle, the world outside seemingly pure.
But behind that serene veil, darkness festered.
And just as Cui vanished, two more men entered—one was the waiter from earlier, the other a young man in fine robes, smiling with well-trained politeness.
"Apologies, good sir," the newcomer said with a deep bow. "I am Zhuo Feifan, known as the Jade-Faced Flying Fox, and the junior proprietor of this humble inn."
Qin Ren rose and returned the bow. "Ah, so it's Brother Zhuo! To have you personally arrange my stay—I'm honored."
"No, no, the honor is mine!" Zhuo smiled with polished charm. "You grace my humble inn, elevating it beyond measure! Please, sit—your food and wine are nearly ready. By the way, might I ask your name, sir? And where you hail from?"
Qin Ren smiled inwardly. Smart one. Already probing to see if I'm 'noble' enough to stay in your Emperor Suite, huh?