Martial Cultivator
Author: Unknown Cold
Chapter 863.1: The Competitive Yu Xiyi (II) - Part 1
Countless sword cultivators flooded into the already small Three Feet Town, and naturally, it became overcrowded.
The inns of the town had changed owners time and again. Those who had entered early enough to secure a private room would hear a knock at the door before long. Upon opening it, the visitor would usually smile pleasantly and “negotiate” about whether the room could be given up. It was called a negotiation, but as they spoke, the visitor would often reveal the identity token at their waist, or, perhaps “unintentionally,” let a trace of sword qi leak out. It was still a negotiation, of course; whether or not you were willing to negotiate, well, that depended on you.
Faced with such a situation, most people did not hesitate. Naturally, they gave up their rooms. After all, one should be kind when traveling the world.
It was simply because one was warmhearted and good-natured, always seeking harmony with others, certainly not because I'm scared of you.
Such things were understood without being spoken. Unless absolutely necessary, neither the one demanding the room nor the one yielding it would ever say it outright.
But once the new guest settled in, they soon became the next person asked to vacate, for as time passed, more would arrive.
Thus, in the inns of Three Feet Town, this cycle played out over and over these past days. To put it plainly, it was rather absurd, but also rather amusing.
At noon, a group of several people came from outside the town and entered one of the inns. Although they were told all rooms were already full, they still went upstairs, knocked on two doors, and secured two rooms. These were enough to accommodate most of their group, except for a female sword cultivator who had nowhere to stay. The middle-aged sword cultivator leading them returned to the counter, tossed down two pieces of skygold coins, and asked the innkeeper what kind of people were staying there.
The innkeeper was a cunning old fox, shrewd and well-versed in such dealings. After the many comings and goings of recent days, he knew exactly what was being asked. After some thought, he said softly, “At the far left of the second floor, there’s a family of three - grandmother, father, and grandchild. From the looks of it...”
The woman nodded in understanding and went to knock on that door. It was opened by an unremarkable-looking middle-aged man, who asked gruffly, “What is it?”
The woman smiled and exchanged a few polite words before getting to the point. But seeing that the man showed little interest, she had no choice but to speak plainly, that she wanted him to give up the room.
The man asked bluntly, “If I give you the room, where are my mother and I supposed to go?”
Hearing this, the woman’s expression hardened, a trace of displeasure flashing between her brows. Such matters were always tacitly understood; why insist on saying it aloud and stripping away her dignity?
Still, since she had already spoken, she would not back down just because of that. She took out a pouch of skygold coins and said with a smile, “Fellow Daoist may find lodging elsewhere. Consider this pouch of skygold coins as compensation...”
Before she could finish, a delicate little girl walked out from inside the room, looked up at her father, and said unhappily, “Father, Grandmother told you to speak nicely and not cause trouble.”
The man sighed helplessly and said quietly, "I know."
After saying this, the man raised his eyes to look at the woman before him and asked, “You really won’t let this go?”
The woman smiled. “Fellow Daoist, it’s best if you step aside.”
Before the man could speak, a female sword cultivator not far away was already walking toward them. As she came closer, she said, “Martial Aunt Chang, we might have good tempers, but this one doesn’t seem to. There’s really no need to waste so many words.”
The man frowned. He could naturally hear the barbed tone in the woman’s words.
If he were younger, he might have had the patience to listen. After all, though her words weren’t pleasant, the woman wasn’t bad-looking. But at his age now, already married, with a little daughter of his own, no matter how pretty a woman might be, it was all the same.
So the man quickly squatted down and whispered something in his daughter’s ear. The little girl looked doubtful. The man sighed and said, “Go tell your grandma, just treat it as your dad owes you a skewer of candied hawthorn, all right?”
The little girl shook her head, eyes full of mischief. Clearly, she was bargaining.
The man reached out, wanting to pinch her ear, but the girl didn’t dodge. She only said, “Dad, you’d better think this through.”
His hand was already halfway up, but when he heard that, he could only sigh and withdraw it. This little girl wasn’t nearly as simple as she looked. Her mind was as sharp as a mirror. As long as her grandmother was still alive, her old man had no chance of disciplining her.
Oh, and even if her grandmother was gone, as long as her mother was still around, her dad wouldn’t dare touch her either.
The man lowered his head and muttered dejectedly, “Two skewers then.”
The girl grinned, hooked pinkies with her father, and said with satisfaction, “It’s a deal then.”
After that, she turned and went into the house, and only then did the man stand up.
He had wasted a bit of time talking with his daughter, and the female sword cultivator on the other side was already growing impatient. Just as she was about to speak when he stood, the man shook his head and said, “Go call someone whose words actually matter. I can give you the room, but I won’t be talking with you women.”
The female sword cultivator sneered, about to retort, but the woman beside her tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Wait a moment.”
No matter how one looked at it, they were the ones being unreasonable here. If the matter could be settled without fighting, that would be for the best. So even if she had to call her senior brother over, she didn’t mind much.
When you were out in the world, it wasn’t good to fight and kill over every little thing.
The female sword cultivator gave a cold snort but said nothing more.
Soon, the woman brought over the middle-aged sword cultivator leading their group. His expression was cold, and he clearly had little patience for this troublesome man.
The man didn’t seem to care. He simply said, “There aren’t enough rooms, and you people came late. So you want to take the rooms we got first. It's not exactly robbery since you’re paying for it. Won’t sound too bad when word gets out. Seems like no big deal, but you... just because you’re from fucking West Alley Sect, you think you can do whatever the hell you want?”
Before his words finished, the man suddenly stepped forward. Qi surged through his body as he closed the distance in an instant, throwing a heavy punch straight at the middle-aged sword cultivator.
The middle-aged sword cultivator was caught off guard at first. But after all he had cultivated for many years, he wasn’t defenseless. In that split second, he summoned his lifeblood flying sword, placing it between them.
But when the man saw the lifeblood flying sword, he made no move to pull back his punch. His fist crashed down hard onto the sword’s blade. The flying sword let out a mournful hum as it was struck, smashing straight back into its owner. The middle-aged sword cultivator crashed through the second-floor railing and fell into the first-floor hall.
The other sword cultivators traveling with him saw this scene and didn’t hesitate. They all immediately drew their swords and charged at the man.
The man’s expression remained calm and cold.
He stepped forward, grabbed the frontmost sword cultivator by the collar, and threw him aside.
Then the second, and the third, it was all the same.
In moments, it was as if a storm had swept through the inn’s first floor. Except, this storm was far worse than a hailstorm.
The hall below was a complete wreck.
Several cultivators nearby, hearing the commotion, looked over. But in the end, none of them made a move.
______
The inns of the town had changed owners time and again. Those who had entered early enough to secure a private room would hear a knock at the door before long. Upon opening it, the visitor would usually smile pleasantly and “negotiate” about whether the room could be given up. It was called a negotiation, but as they spoke, the visitor would often reveal the identity token at their waist, or, perhaps “unintentionally,” let a trace of sword qi leak out. It was still a negotiation, of course; whether or not you were willing to negotiate, well, that depended on you.
Faced with such a situation, most people did not hesitate. Naturally, they gave up their rooms. After all, one should be kind when traveling the world.
It was simply because one was warmhearted and good-natured, always seeking harmony with others, certainly not because I'm scared of you.
Such things were understood without being spoken. Unless absolutely necessary, neither the one demanding the room nor the one yielding it would ever say it outright.
But once the new guest settled in, they soon became the next person asked to vacate, for as time passed, more would arrive.
Thus, in the inns of Three Feet Town, this cycle played out over and over these past days. To put it plainly, it was rather absurd, but also rather amusing.
At noon, a group of several people came from outside the town and entered one of the inns. Although they were told all rooms were already full, they still went upstairs, knocked on two doors, and secured two rooms. These were enough to accommodate most of their group, except for a female sword cultivator who had nowhere to stay. The middle-aged sword cultivator leading them returned to the counter, tossed down two pieces of skygold coins, and asked the innkeeper what kind of people were staying there.
The innkeeper was a cunning old fox, shrewd and well-versed in such dealings. After the many comings and goings of recent days, he knew exactly what was being asked. After some thought, he said softly, “At the far left of the second floor, there’s a family of three - grandmother, father, and grandchild. From the looks of it...”
The woman nodded in understanding and went to knock on that door. It was opened by an unremarkable-looking middle-aged man, who asked gruffly, “What is it?”
The woman smiled and exchanged a few polite words before getting to the point. But seeing that the man showed little interest, she had no choice but to speak plainly, that she wanted him to give up the room.
The man asked bluntly, “If I give you the room, where are my mother and I supposed to go?”
Hearing this, the woman’s expression hardened, a trace of displeasure flashing between her brows. Such matters were always tacitly understood; why insist on saying it aloud and stripping away her dignity?
Still, since she had already spoken, she would not back down just because of that. She took out a pouch of skygold coins and said with a smile, “Fellow Daoist may find lodging elsewhere. Consider this pouch of skygold coins as compensation...”
Before she could finish, a delicate little girl walked out from inside the room, looked up at her father, and said unhappily, “Father, Grandmother told you to speak nicely and not cause trouble.”
The man sighed helplessly and said quietly, "I know."
After saying this, the man raised his eyes to look at the woman before him and asked, “You really won’t let this go?”
The woman smiled. “Fellow Daoist, it’s best if you step aside.”
Before the man could speak, a female sword cultivator not far away was already walking toward them. As she came closer, she said, “Martial Aunt Chang, we might have good tempers, but this one doesn’t seem to. There’s really no need to waste so many words.”
The man frowned. He could naturally hear the barbed tone in the woman’s words.
If he were younger, he might have had the patience to listen. After all, though her words weren’t pleasant, the woman wasn’t bad-looking. But at his age now, already married, with a little daughter of his own, no matter how pretty a woman might be, it was all the same.
So the man quickly squatted down and whispered something in his daughter’s ear. The little girl looked doubtful. The man sighed and said, “Go tell your grandma, just treat it as your dad owes you a skewer of candied hawthorn, all right?”
The little girl shook her head, eyes full of mischief. Clearly, she was bargaining.
The man reached out, wanting to pinch her ear, but the girl didn’t dodge. She only said, “Dad, you’d better think this through.”
His hand was already halfway up, but when he heard that, he could only sigh and withdraw it. This little girl wasn’t nearly as simple as she looked. Her mind was as sharp as a mirror. As long as her grandmother was still alive, her old man had no chance of disciplining her.
Oh, and even if her grandmother was gone, as long as her mother was still around, her dad wouldn’t dare touch her either.
The man lowered his head and muttered dejectedly, “Two skewers then.”
The girl grinned, hooked pinkies with her father, and said with satisfaction, “It’s a deal then.”
After that, she turned and went into the house, and only then did the man stand up.
He had wasted a bit of time talking with his daughter, and the female sword cultivator on the other side was already growing impatient. Just as she was about to speak when he stood, the man shook his head and said, “Go call someone whose words actually matter. I can give you the room, but I won’t be talking with you women.”
The female sword cultivator sneered, about to retort, but the woman beside her tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Wait a moment.”
No matter how one looked at it, they were the ones being unreasonable here. If the matter could be settled without fighting, that would be for the best. So even if she had to call her senior brother over, she didn’t mind much.
When you were out in the world, it wasn’t good to fight and kill over every little thing.
The female sword cultivator gave a cold snort but said nothing more.
Soon, the woman brought over the middle-aged sword cultivator leading their group. His expression was cold, and he clearly had little patience for this troublesome man.
The man didn’t seem to care. He simply said, “There aren’t enough rooms, and you people came late. So you want to take the rooms we got first. It's not exactly robbery since you’re paying for it. Won’t sound too bad when word gets out. Seems like no big deal, but you... just because you’re from fucking West Alley Sect, you think you can do whatever the hell you want?”
Before his words finished, the man suddenly stepped forward. Qi surged through his body as he closed the distance in an instant, throwing a heavy punch straight at the middle-aged sword cultivator.
The middle-aged sword cultivator was caught off guard at first. But after all he had cultivated for many years, he wasn’t defenseless. In that split second, he summoned his lifeblood flying sword, placing it between them.
But when the man saw the lifeblood flying sword, he made no move to pull back his punch. His fist crashed down hard onto the sword’s blade. The flying sword let out a mournful hum as it was struck, smashing straight back into its owner. The middle-aged sword cultivator crashed through the second-floor railing and fell into the first-floor hall.
The other sword cultivators traveling with him saw this scene and didn’t hesitate. They all immediately drew their swords and charged at the man.
The man’s expression remained calm and cold.
He stepped forward, grabbed the frontmost sword cultivator by the collar, and threw him aside.
Then the second, and the third, it was all the same.
In moments, it was as if a storm had swept through the inn’s first floor. Except, this storm was far worse than a hailstorm.
The hall below was a complete wreck.
Several cultivators nearby, hearing the commotion, looked over. But in the end, none of them made a move.
______