A few days later.
Jin Muhon left Unbong County and arrived in Yichang.
A place where the thick stench of fish and brine assaulted the nose.
This was a bustling port city thriving on commerce along the Yangtze River, and also the stronghold of the Ghost Soul Sect.
"Hey! Unload the cargo first!"
"Let's eat before anything else!"
The harbor buzzed with the shouts of boatmen, while carts laden with heavy loads rumbled back and forth without respite.
Jin Muhon watched the scene with keen interest.
"Hm. More prosperous than I expected."
"Isn't it? It's one of the top spots in Huguang Province. Plenty of women and all sorts of entertainment to boot. Heh heh! I'll show you around properly, Family Head."
Oepari, who had come along, grinned obsequiously, stealing glances at Jin Muhon's face.
Oepari wasn't the only one eyeing him.
With his broad shoulders and perfectly honed physique draped in elegant white robes, Jin Muhon drew endless sidelong glances from the women on Yichang's streets. Some even stopped dead in their tracks to stare.
Aware or not, Jin Muhon strolled leisurely with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Strange."
"Pardon? What's strange?"
"That a third-rate unorthodox scum is holding down a place this thriving."
"...Pardon?"
Oepari blinked, momentarily unable to grasp Jin Muhon's words.
What was the Ghost Soul Sect? In the area around Yichang, even birds feared to fly too low. Though branded unorthodox, it was no ordinary faction to dismiss as third-rate.
Just then, Jin Muhon halted abruptly and stared into the distance.
"What's wrong, Family Head?"
Oepari followed his gaze.
It was a dim alleyway, littered with filth and a lone rat rummaging through trash. Nothing else in sight.
"Hm. Not bad."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
"Ah, yes! Family Head!"
As Jin Muhon walked on with hands behind his back, he expanded the scope of his awareness.
The surveillance team lurking in the back alley swiftly retreated somewhere.
Toward the Yangtze River.
'So the turtle bastard's behind this.'
The face of the Long River Bandits' chief flashed in Jin Muhon's mind.
A long-forgotten memory was on the verge of surfacing when Oepari, following behind, stepped forward and pointed somewhere.
"Family Head! You must be hungry. Let's grab a bite!"
Jin Muhon looked where Oepari indicated.
A stately three-story inn. Elegant characters reading Drunken Immortal Pavilion adorned the signboard.
Now that he noticed, a tantalizing aroma wafted into the street.
"Family Head! This is the most famous inn in Yichang. Great views, exquisite dishes, and above all, the liquor is out of this world. Hahaha!"
Seems he'd been craving a drink himself.
Jin Muhon chuckled softly and headed for the inn.
***
Screeech!
As the inn door swung open, a wave of hot air hit their faces.
"Hey! Waiter! When's our food coming?!"
"Right away, sirs!"
"It's been ages since we ordered, you punk! Move it!"
"Over here! Another bottle of pine flower liquor!"
"Coming right up!"
Being lunchtime, the inn teemed with patrons.
True to a port city, most were merchants, though a few young men and women seeking pleasure dotted the crowd. The mingled scents of liquor, sweat, and greasy food stung the nose.
Thud thud thud thud!
A waiter dashed frantically ahead.
Oepari grabbed his arm.
"Hey."
"Eek!"
The startled waiter dropped his tray.
"Nooo!!"
The perfectly roasted chicken dish and plates flew into the air.
Oepari yelped in surprise as well.
'Hm?'
Jin Muhon watched the airborne chicken with curious eyes.
The world slowed to a crawl.
No—his perception had accelerated.
The golden-brown meat slices hung motionless like a painting, while oil droplets from the plates sparkled in the sunlight.
'Fascinating.'
He hadn't circulated any inner energy.
Just a slight focus of intent.
Yet here was a phenomenon that normally required peak concentration and several cycles of energy—unfolding before him.
Undoubtedly the influence of his upper dantian.
Jin Muhon extended his arm and caught the plate.
Then, with precise taps, he scooped the floating chicken back onto it.
"Gasp!"
"Wha?!"
Oepari and the waiter gaped at Jin Muhon.
But the inn's chaos was such that no one else had witnessed it.
"Be careful."
Jin Muhon handed the plate back to the waiter.
The waiter took it with a dazed expression.
"Th-thank you, sir!"
He bowed repeatedly, looking a decade younger.
"Any empty seats?"
"First floor's full! Please head to the second!"
"Got it."
"I'll just drop this off and guide you up!"
"Fine."
The waiter scurried away with the tray.
As they climbed the stairs, calls for him rang out everywhere.
It'd take a while to reach the second floor.
Screeech. Screeech. Screeech.
The creaky stairs led to the second floor, which was just as packed.
The noise from below made it even rowdier.
"What now, Family Head? This floor's full too."
Oepari turned to Jin Muhon, at a loss.
"Stairs over there."
Jin Muhon nodded toward the opposite corner.
A staircase screened by silk curtains.
Off-limits to the public, no doubt—but Jin Muhon couldn't care less.
"Shall we check it out? I've never been to the third floor myself."
"Let's."
Oepari glanced around warily and parted the curtain.
Oddly, no staff in sight on this floor.
Step. Step. Step.
The stairs to the third floor didn't creak at all. Sturdy, well-crafted wood.
Some technique muffled the clamor from below to a faint hum.
"Whoa! Nice up here, Family Head."
All sides opened to windows with stunning views.
A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of the Yangtze.
"Oh? People are here."
Jin Muhon and Oepari looked over.
Two pairs of young men and women had paused their meal to stare.
Jin Muhon quickly sized them up.
Opulent silk robes, dangling jewels. And eyes that regarded them like insects—clearly spoiled scions of power.
Sensing they weren't ordinary, Oepari turned away and whispered low.
"Family Head, let's take that window seat. It's empty."
"Sure."
"Don't stare too much. Folks in Yichang are shy."
"Are they?"
"Yes."
Jin Muhon smirked and sat.
The young people's glares sharpened.
Ignoring them, Jin Muhon gazed at the leisurely flowing Yangtze. A casual stop, but quite satisfying.
"Not bad?"
"Indeed."
"Heh heh!"
Rare praise from Jin Muhon lifted Oepari's spirits.
Jin Muhon peered past Oepari's shoulder.
"Those over there. Know them?"
"Pardon? Why?"
"They're glaring daggers."
"What? These bratty pups dare—"
Oepari whipped around irritably.
"...!"
Then flinched and turned back to Jin Muhon, pale-faced.
He'd realized who they were, belatedly.
"Who are they?"
"Family Head... we should head down first..."
"Who?"
"Well..."
As Oepari hesitated, furtively glancing about, heavy footsteps pounded up.
The waiter burst onto the third floor.
"Aigoo, guests! This isn't for just anyone! Please go down!"
He whispered urgently, catching his breath.
Jin Muhon looked up at him.
"They're sitting right there."
"Exactly! They rented out the whole third floor! Aigoo, why didn't anyone stop you?"
Then, one of the earlier guests crooked a finger at the waiter.
A pale, slender digit. A black jade ring gleamed conspicuously.
"Yes! Coming!"
The waiter paled and rushed over.
The man spoke in a cold tone.
"I said no one else."
"Forgive us, Young Sect Leader! Must've been a mix-up! I'll escort them down right away!"
"Hey. 'Sorry' doesn't cut it? Do you know how important this gathering is? You've ruined the mood."
The man thudded his waist sword onto the table.
The wide-eyed waiter bowed frantically.
"I'm sorry! So sorry! I've committed a grave sin!"
"Then die."
"Pardon?!"
Shing!
True to his nasty tone, the youth—no older than his early twenties—swung at the waiter's neck without warning.
Position and momentum both lethal.
No mere intimidation.
'A mad dog.'
Oepari recoiled in shock at the man, whom the waiter called Young Sect Leader.
Jin Muhon, piecing it together, flicked a chopstick with Earth Finger Skill, infusing a touch of upper dantian energy.
Shing!
The chopstick sliced through the air invisibly fast.
"...?"
"...?"
It pierced the blade like paper, embedding deep into the wall.
Silence fell.
Everyone blinked in bewilderment.
The Young Sect Leader wielding the sword, the oblivious waiter who'd nearly died, even Jin Muhon himself.
"What... is this...?"
The Young Sect Leader stared at his blade in disbelief.
A chopstick-sized hole.
He glanced at the wall. Same size puncture.
'Peak master?!'
He swallowed hard.
In the instant he'd swung mercilessly, something struck the blade, sending a jolt through his body that froze him momentarily.
Jin Muhon, equally surprised in his own way, eyed his hand.
"Didn't put much power into it."
"...Pardon?"
As Jin Muhon murmured, Oepari asked cautiously.
"Let's try it once more."
Jin Muhon picked up another chopstick. A breeze from the window tousled his hair.
Right then—
"Wait!"
The Young Sect Leader cried out at Jin Muhon, voice trembling.