In a place of uncertain safety, Cai Zhao had initially not dared to sleep too deeply. Yet after a long, rambling conversation with Mu Qingyan, she ended up sleeping exceptionally soundly. By the time she woke, it was already well past the hour of Chen (7-9 AM), and the inn's main hall downstairs was bustling with noise.
Cai Zhao scrambled to dress herself in a hurry, while Mu Qingyan was already impeccably groomed and seated by the window facing the corridor. He glanced inside, then silently rose and left the room, only returning after Cai Zhao had finished washing up—bearing a tray of steaming breakfast.
Watching her wolf down the food, he leisurely patted her back. "Slow down. The day has just begun. We'll set out in the afternoon when the snowstorm eases. No need to rush."
Only then did Cai Zhao remember that the days here were short and the nights long. She gave an "oh" before asking, "Why is it so noisy downstairs?"
"Quite the commotion, isn't it? From last night till now, four or five groups have arrived at the inn," Mu Qingyan said as he ladled porridge for her.
Cai Zhao paused, chopsticks in mid-air. "But... it's not the season for herb gathering."
Mu Qingyan's gaze darkened. "Indeed. It's neither summer, suitable for mountain travel, nor autumn, the harvest season for medicinal herbs. Yet in this bitterly cold, snow-laden spring, so many have come all at once. What a coincidence."
Their current guest room was located at the corner of the second-floor corridor—quiet, spacious, and with an excellent view, allowing them to observe about seventy percent of the activity in the main hall below. Mu Qingyan had taken a liking to this room at first glance yesterday, pressuring the innkeeper and staff to quickly prepare it for them.
Leaning slightly against the partially opened window, the two peered down at the main hall, shoulder to shoulder.
The first to catch their eye was the northwest corner, where the largest group had gathered.
There were seventeen or eighteen of them, all brawny and formidable, with four tables pushed together as they laughed loudly, ate, and drank. The man at the center appeared to be in his fifties, of average height and slightly plump, sporting a glossy, well-groomed short beard. His fine clothes and overall demeanor screamed "pampered nobility."
Cai Zhao lifted an eyelid and scoffed. "All bark and no bite."
Mu Qingyan's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh? How so?"
"Hmph, look at how he holds his nose in the air. If he's so used to flaunting himself, why not sit in the middle of the hall? Choosing a corner and having his guards huddle around him speaks volumes."
"Young Lady Knight Cai is most astute."
Two tables away from this group sat a lean, diminutive Martial World wanderer. Though alone, he appeared entirely at ease, occasionally casting disdainful glances at the boisterous crowd.
"Can't place his background," Cai Zhao shook her head.
Mu Qingyan observed, "Look at his limbs—his palms are thin like fan ribs, his fingers short yet powerful, with the front of his feet longer than the back. He's accustomed to scaling walls and rooftops. Likely a lone wolf bandit of some sort."
Cai Zhao hesitated. "What's a bandit doing here? What's there to steal in this blizzard?"
"A thief never leaves empty-handed. Such a bandit wouldn't come to this frozen wasteland for nothing," Mu Qingyan said, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Their gaze shifted to the southwest corner, where three people sat quietly—one master and two servants, judging by their attire and demeanor. The master appeared to be around thirty-five or thirty-six, with a somewhat scholarly look, though his furrowed brow made him seem like a man pursued by debt collectors.
Still unable to discern anything, Cai Zhao was about to turn and ask Mu Qingyan when she noticed him frowning intently at the master's hands resting on the table.So Cai Zhao also looked at the hand—apart from the skin being slightly paler than average, there was nothing particularly unusual about it. Yet Mu Qingyan's frown deepened.
Cai Zhao turned her attention to the last table. At a glance, she let out a soft gasp of surprise.
Mu Qingyan snapped back to attention and asked what was wrong. Seeing her astonished expression, he also looked toward the last table.
The table was simply set with two or three meat dishes, while five or six half-jin wine jugs lay empty. Two middle-aged men sat facing each other, drinking in silence. The man on the right had a lean and composed demeanor, carrying himself with steady poise, yet there was an undercurrent of sorrow between his brows. The man on the left had a long, three-strand beard and a dignified appearance, seemingly urging his friend to drink less.
Mu Qingyan found the man on the right somewhat familiar, and Cai Zhao was also staring intently at him.
"If you stretch your neck any further, the people below will notice," Mu Qingyan remarked abruptly.
Cai Zhao quickly pulled her head back and discreetly pointed at the lean man, whispering, "Do you know who that is? He's Uncle Zhou's cousin, Uncle Zhou Zhiqin!"
Mu Qingyan turned to look again and realized why the man seemed familiar—his features bore a three- or four-tenths resemblance to Zhou Zhizhen.
His mind quickly made the connection, and he said with schadenfreude, "Now you're in the same boat as Feng Xiaohan. Should we ask Qian Xueshen to change your appearance? Otherwise, if someone from Jade Pendant Mountain Manor recognizes you, you won't be able to explain yourself."
Cai Zhao shot him a glare. "Relax, he won’t recognize me. Uncle Zhou Zhiqin only visited Fallen Blossom Valley twice. The first time, I was only seven, and the second time was for my aunt’s funeral. I was seriously ill then and didn’t even come out to greet guests. After my aunt’s funeral rites were over, when Uncle Zhou and his family came to bid farewell, I caught a glimpse of him through the window—ah, Uncle Zhou had lost so much weight compared to three years earlier."
"You pay quite a bit of attention to the Zhou family," Mu Qingyan scoffed. "Then who’s the man beside him?"
Cai Zhao thought for a moment. "That must be the renowned hero Dongfang Xiao from Zhongzhou. He and Uncle Zhou Zhiqin are sworn brothers. They’ve traveled together since they were young. When the incident at Clear Wind Temple happened, it was my aunt who dug him and Daoist Yunzhuan out of the ruins."
"What does Dongfang Xiao have to do with Clear Wind Temple?"
Cai Zhao: "He was originally a nominal disciple of Clear Wind Temple, considered Daoist Yunzhuan’s junior in seniority. After the temple was completely destroyed, Daoist Yunzhuan went into seclusion to recover from his injuries, and Dongfang Xiao returned home to protect his parents."
"So, what are two such renowned orthodox heroes doing here?" Mu Qingyan asked.
Cai Zhao spread her hands. "How should I know?"
Mu Qingyan’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "I just thought of something."
"Your so-called 'Uncle Zhou Zhiqin' has known your aunt and your father since childhood, so he must be very familiar with Fallen Blossom Valley’s martial arts. He’d probably recognize your aunt’s techniques too—he might not recognize your face, but he’d definitely recognize your fighting style."
Cai Zhao’s eyes slowly widened.
Mu Qingyan continued, "The moment you make a move, Zhao Zhao, he’ll spot the clues. And given how few people there are in Fallen Blossom Valley—just your family of four—even the most oblivious person could guess your identity."
"Then... what should I do?" Cai Zhao grew nervous.
Mu Qingyan looked pleased. "Don’t worry, I have a solution."
"Don’t you dare suggest something ridiculous!" Cai Zhao’s thoughts were in disarray, and she distractedly changed the subject. "Aside from Uncle Zhou Zhiqin’s table, who are the other people here?""What's so difficult about this? We'll know once we try," Mu Qingyan said with an air of calm assurance. "Which table should we test first?"
Cai Zhao replied casually, "The one with the most people—they're the ones acting all high and mighty."
Mu Qingyan gave a slight nod. With a light tap on the table, the three or four empty dishes Cai Zhao had finished were jolted upward, lifting half a foot off the surface. Then, with a flick of his sleeve, the dishes spun rapidly in midair before shooting toward the window. They shattered with a loud crack above the northwest corner, sending ten porcelain shards plummeting straight down.
Cai Zhao was startled by his decisiveness—he truly acted the moment he spoke.
Almost instantly, a chorus of furious curses erupted from the main hall below. The pampered, pale-faced fat man and his lackeys were scrambling and leaping about, desperately dodging the "hidden weapons" raining from above.
After observing for a moment, Mu and Cai came to a nearly indifferent conclusion—"That's the martial arts of the Four Stallions Gate."
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