Han Rui’s gaze wandered across the bustling shopping district; his attention drawn to the numerous women glancing furtively at Zixuan. Like the waiter, none of them were particularly surprised by Yue’s reaction. What caught his attention, however, was the visible envy etched on some of the onlookers’ faces.

What the hell is going on here? Han Rui wondered, his gaze snapping back to Zixuan and the cultivators.

Zixuan stood frozen, a maelstrom of emotions flashing across his face. Yue, meanwhile, prepared to leave with the Mist Sword Sect cultivators. But just as she stepped forward, Zixuan blocked her path.

“Was it all a lie?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Were you using me all along?”

Yue tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her expression impassive. “Brother Zixuan, we’ve only known each other for a week. I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice was clear, her eyes cold. “You should go home and rest if you’re feeling unwell. Thank you for the tea.”

Without sparing him another glance, she turned to the cultivators, nodding for them to lead the way.

Before they could take a step, Zixuan blocked their path again.

The lead cultivator’s patience wore thin. He opened his mouth to speak, but Zixuan’s strained voice cut through the air first.

“I see. You’re just like the rest of them.” His tone wavered, bitterness creeping into his words. His eyes shifted to the cultivators, and he gestured toward the sack of coins on the table. “Take it back. I don’t need your pity. Someday, someone will humiliate you as you’ve humiliated me—”

A crisp slap rang out, silencing him mid-sentence. Zixuan staggered to the ground, clutching his cheek.

The cultivator who struck him stepped forward, towering over the fallen man. “Don’t push your luck, mortal. Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“Enough,” the lead cultivator interjected. “He’s not worth our time. Take the sack, and let’s go.”

Zixuan lay motionless on the ground, his face twisted in fury as Yue and the cultivators strode toward another establishment. Only after their departure did the other patrons rush to his aid.

“Master Zixuan are you hurt?” a concerned woman asked, offering him a handkerchief.

“Those brutes! Look what they’ve done to your handsome face. Here, use this ointment,” another woman suggested, holding out a small jar.

“This is unacceptable,” a man muttered, glaring at the departing cultivators. “We should report this to the representatives of the Five Clans. Foreign cultivators can’t just bully citizens of Celestial Ridge like this.”

Before the man could act on his words, a group of women shoved him aside, creating a human wall between him and Zixuan.

Han Rui, observing the chaos, drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze flitting between Zixuan, the crowd of young women, the retreating cultivators, and the waiter.

“This is... quite interesting,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The waiter turned toward him, shaking his head in apparent sympathy. “Master Zixuan has it rough,” he remarked.

“This is what you meant earlier when you said his situation was a blessing or a curse, depending on who you ask,” Han Rui said, mirroring the waiter’s expression.

“Exactly,” the waiter sighed. “It’s the worst-kept secret around here. Any woman who dates Master Zixuan ends up courted by someone better—richer, more powerful, more charming. The list goes on. I can’t imagine how he copes. How is he supposed to believe anyone truly loves him and isn’t just using him as a steppingstone?”

Han Rui let out a dry chuckle. “Humans are naturally ruthless—some more than others. Maybe there were women who genuinely cared for him, but resisting the allure of someone better? That’s hard for most.” He paused, then asked, “Do you know anything about his past relationships? I’m curious how things ended for those women.”

The waiter’s eyes lit up, his demeanor shifting to that of a gossip connoisseur. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “To be honest, I was hoping karma would catch up with those bitches. How could they toy with a man’s heart like that? But sadly, it seems karma despises Master Zixuan as much as the heavens do. From what I’ve heard, those women moved on to bigger and better things with their new partners. Around here, folks say Master Zixuan is the ultimate matchmaker—for eligible, or should I say desperate, young ladies.”

Han Rui chuckled, shaking his head. “No wonder everyone in this district pays him to bring his dates here.”

The waiter froze, his eyes widening. Han Rui’s words seemed to hit a nerve.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the waiter stammered, forcing a smile. “You’re quite funny, customer! Well, would you look at the time? My boss must be wondering where I am. Excuse me, I really must go—”

“Relax, I’m not from a rival district, and I have no intention of chasing or claiming your golden goose. I’m from out of town, remember?” Han Rui said with an easy smile. “Like I said, humans are inherently ruthless. I can tell you genuinely sympathize with Master Zixuan, but it would be a shame if he started taking all his dates to other shopping districts. Honestly, I’m fairly confident the rumors about his ‘blessing’ or ‘curse’ were propagated by people from this district. After all, it’s a brilliant way to draw in countless women hoping to cross paths with the so-called heavenly matchmaker. Even if they don’t meet him every day, the chance alone is enough to pull in desperate hopefuls. It’s genius, really.”

The waiter’s calm demeanor remained intact, but his eyes betrayed his unease. “Customer, you know it’s not good to spread improper rumors, right?” he replied with a strained smile.

Han Rui chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax. I’ve already told you I’m not interested in whatever scheme you’ve got going on. In fact, I’m quite impressed. It’s an ingenious method. Not my cup of tea, but I don’t judge. Both sides benefit, so what’s there to criticize?”

The waiter frowned slightly, leaning in closer. He whispered, “Not that I agree with what you’re saying—and for the record, I don’t—but let’s say I did. How did you figure all that out?”

Han Rui’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Not that I’m calling you a loudmouth—and for the record, I don’t think you are—but with someone like you around, there’s no way Master Zixuan hasn’t heard these rumors already. Especially with the titles people give him.” He leaned back, casually folding his arms. “No sane person would return to the same place over and over unless they were either shameless or being compensated handsomely for their trouble. Of course, this is all hypothetical guesswork. Maybe I’m just drunk from last night’s wine.”

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The waiter stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly broke into a smile. “Customer, you have quite the imagination,” he said, standing and cupping his fists. “My name is Wu Lazhi. May I know yours—”

A sharp thud interrupted him as something crashed onto his head. Lazhi staggered, his expression twisting in fury. “Which bastard dares to knock the head of the great—”

He froze mid-sentence, swallowing hard as his gaze landed on a frail old woman glaring at him, smacking a rolling pin against her palm.

“Owner Chen,” Lazhi began, his smile now strained. “Don’t mind—”

“No, no. Please finish what you were saying earlier. I’m that bastard, aren’t I?”

Lazhi shook his head frantically, trying to backtrack, but the old woman’s rolling pin struck his thigh with practiced precision, bringing him to his knees.

“You lazy fool!” she scolded, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him forward. “Everyone else is busy taking orders, but you’re here gossiping again, aren’t you?”

“Owner Chen, please, have mercy!” Lazhi pleaded, but his cries only earned him more decisive thwacks.

The customers—and even passersby—watched in stunned silence as the old woman hauled Lazhi away, disappearing into the back room amidst his continued cries for forgiveness.

Han Rui leaned back in his chair, struggling to suppress his laughter. He had noticed the old woman earlier and had been tempted to warn Lazhi, but curiosity got the better of him.

Turning his attention back to Zixuan, Han Rui’s gaze lingered on the women surrounding him, showering him with care and concern.

They’re all foxes, not even bothering to hide it, he mused. But why does he entertain them?

For a moment, he pondered the possibilities. Could he be getting kickbacks from the women, too? He’d be a fool if he wasn’t. It’s free money. If I were in his shoes, I’d sell my next date to the highest bidder. Why not? They’re guaranteed to meet their Mr. Right afterward.

His thoughts shifted to Zixuan’s earlier expression. Then again, he did seem genuinely sad. Was that an act, or was he actually hoping Yue loved him?

Han Rui shook his head, dismissing the thought. It doesn’t matter. From where I’m sitting, this guy smells like a potential customer. His grin widened, shadier than the most devious con artist’s.

Meanwhile, Zixuan finally managed to extricate himself from the throng of admirers, disappearing down the bustling streets. Strangely, his departure brought a noticeable influx of new shoppers, most of them women, each uniquely charming.

Han Rui remained seated for another hour, quietly observing. Finally, he signaled for another waiter—not Lazhi—and settled his tab. Like that, he too disappeared into the bustling streets.

----------------------------------------

At the exact moment Han Rui disappeared into the bustling streets, the waiter who had closed his bill hurried into the back room. He strode past the kitchen and bakery, ignoring the flurry of activity around him as staff rushed to and fro. Taking a series of winding turns, he finally reached a door at the end of a dimly lit hallway.

Without hesitation, he opened it, and the world around him blurred for a moment. He stepped into a vast underground chamber teeming with activity. Workers busily heaved sacks brimming with coins, while others sorted through towering stacks of documents. Ignoring the lively chatter, the waiter walked a familiar path to a table at the room’s center.

Seated there were five individuals, each exuding a distinct air of authority. The waiter cupped his fists and bowed low. “Boss, he just left.”

“Oh?” Lazhi murmured, setting down his wine cup with a lazy motion. “What did he do before leaving?”

“He just sat there, nothing out of the ordinary,” the waiter reported.

“Did he follow the same path Zixuan took?” Lazhi asked, sipping his wine leisurely.

“No, boss. He walked in the opposite direction.”

“Really?” Lazhi’s lips curved into an amused smile as he lowered his cup.

Granny Chen, the old woman who had disciplined Lazhi earlier, tilted her head. “Do you really think he’s a spy?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Lazhi shook his head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. But he’s certainly not ordinary. Not many could figure out that we’re sponsoring Zixuan’s appearances in the Lazy Crane District—especially not an outsider like him.”

“He might just be bluffing,” interjected Zhou Hanfeng, a gruff man with a prominent scar beneath his right eye. “It’s possible the Zixuan matter is just a smokescreen to infiltrate our operations. I’d bet he’s a spy.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Lazhi said, his tone light yet firm. He turned to the waiter, who still stood with his head bowed. “Did you assign anyone to tail him?”

“Yes, boss,” the waiter replied promptly.

“Who?”

“Little Five and Ten.”

Lazhi’s brows lifted slightly. “Them? Their stealth skills should be more than sufficient to track him unnoticed. Good work. You may leave now.”

Before the waiter could move, another one burst into the room, panting heavily. He cupped his fists and bowed hastily. “Boss, urgent news!”

Lazhi raised an eyebrow. “What’s happened to make you run all the way here?”

“Word just came from our spies in the Fang Clan—Young Master Fang Mu has been killed!”

The table fell into stunned silence as shock rippled through the group.

“How?” Granny Chen was the first to recover, her voice sharp with curiosity.

“We don’t have the full details yet,” the boy admitted. “It happened last night, and it seems to be connected to the Gao Case.”

Lazhi’s brow furrowed in thought. “The Gao Case... Wasn’t that the one where a young woman was killed for seducing Fang Mu; I believe her mother also died too, right?”

“Yes,” the boy confirmed.

“What does that tragedy have to do with Fang Mu’s death?” Lazhi asked, his confusion evident.

“Are you forgetting the woman had a fiancé?” Zhou Hanfeng’s voice carried a note of revelation.

“I remember,” Granny Chen cut in, “but there’s no way he could’ve pulled it off.”

“I agree,” Lazhi said, swirling his wine idly. “It’s impossible for him to be the culprit.”

Before the debate could spiral further, one of the identical twins seated at the table spoke up. “Instead of speculating, why not let Little Eighteen finish his report?” His tone was calm, almost amused, as he gestured for the panting boy to continue.

“Elder,” Little Eighteen began, “we received six transmissions before the Fang Clan locked down their estate. All of them confirmed Fang Mu’s death. One transmission mentioned that Gao Yuan was present at the estate when it happened. That’s all we know for now.”

“Gao Yuan?” Lazhi repeated, his mind racing to recall the name.

“The little brother of that woman,” Granny Chen supplied.

“Yes, that’s him,” Little Eighteen confirmed.

The table fell silent again, each member lost in thought.

“Wasn’t he a mortal?” Zhou Hanfeng finally asked, his tone incredulous. “How could a mortal infiltrate the Fang Clan and kill Fang Mu, of all people?”

“There’s no point speculating,” Lazhi announced after a pause. “Eighteen, keep monitoring for updates.”

“Yes, boss,” the boy replied with a quick bow.

“I hope our people don’t take unnecessary risks,” Granny Chen muttered, taking a sip from her cup.

“Boss, should I make the information available for sale?” Eighteen asked cautiously.

“Of course,” Lazhi replied with a sly grin. “And make sure it’s priced outrageously. Our people took significant risks to send those transmissions—it’d be foolish not to profit from their efforts.”

He prepared to dismiss Eighteen when another boy rushed in, his face flushed with urgency. Like those before him, he cupped his fists and bowed deeply.

“Boss, big news from the Han Clan!”

Lazhi’s brow arched, and his companions exchanged intrigued glances. Days, sometimes weeks, could pass without anything noteworthy. Yet here they were, confronted with a third intriguing piece of news in a single day.

“Thirty, what is it?” asked the second twin, his voice an odd mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Patriarch Xianlong and the elders of the Han Clan are distributing a treasure known as the QiPhone to all members of the Han clan,” Thirty announced, his words measured but tinged with excitement.

“QiPhone?” they repeated in unison, each syllable dripping with confusion. None of them had ever heard of such a treasure, but its distribution clan-wide by the patriarch and elders made it clear this was no trivial matter.

“What exactly is this QiPhone?” Granny Chen asked, narrowing her eyes.

Thirty opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, a young girl appeared. She stepped forward briskly, cupped her fists, and bowed. “Boss, urgent news! The Po Brothers have taken down the Black Serpent assassins!”

This time, the shock was palpable. Lazhi and the others sat frozen, exchanging wide-eyed glances. It was as if the room itself held its breath.

“What the hell is happening today?” Lazhi finally muttered, breaking the silence.