I'm Just an Innkeeper, Why Are You All Kneeling?

It was two in the morning, and the town of Qingshui was fast asleep. Inside the courtyard of the Lin Fan Teahouse, however, the air was boiling.

Crimson sat cross-legged beneath the glowing weeping willow tree, his black sword resting across his knees. For the past few days, he had been subjected to a relentless, terrifying regimen of cosmic rehabilitation. He drank tea that contained the Supreme Dao. He breathed air saturated with spatial laws. He ate bread that, while structurally identical to a brick, was baked with spiritual flour and purified by the aura of five Golden-Scaled Void Dragons.

His foundation, which had been violently shattered only a week ago, hadn’t just healed. It had been completely reforged.

In the Azure Origin World, the path of cultivation was a brutal, unyielding ladder. Mortals began with Body Tempering to strengthen flesh and bone, before sensing energy in Qi Gathering. From there, they built their Foundation Establishment, a realm considered highly respectable in rural towns. Condensing that energy formed a Golden Core, granting the power to dominate ordinary regions. Above that lay the Nascent Soul stage, where lifespan and spiritual abilities skyrocketed, and then Soul Transformation, a major qualitative evolution of body, soul, and martial power.

For the last century, Crimson had been a peak Soul Transformation cultivator. He had been an apex predator, a terrifying assassin whose very name brought chills to the ruling sects.

But he was not at the peak of the world.

Above Soul Transformation was the Saint realm—existences who touched the fundamental Laws of the world, capable of dominating enormous territories. And beyond that was only the Tribulation realm, the absolute mortal peak where cultivators faced the wrath of Heaven itself to prepare for ascension.

Tonight, under the branches of a tree grown by the System, Crimson was crossing the threshold.

His eyes snapped open. A blinding, blood-red light erupted from his pupils.

He didn’t want to damage the Owner’s pristine jade courtyard, so Crimson did what any loyal employee would do: he forcefully teleported himself fifty yards outside the teahouse’s front door, right into the middle of the dirt and cobblestone street.

The moment his feet touched the public road, he let go of his suppression.

A pillar of pure, concentrated blood-sword intent shot into the night sky. The clouds violently parted. The oppressive, suffocating weight of a Saint descended upon the town. A phantom image of a colossal, crimson blade materialized in the heavens, bending the very Laws of space around it. The sheer force of the breakthrough pulverized the air, sending a shockwave ripping down the street.

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Inside the teahouse, Lin Fan, who had been asleep in his upstairs room, felt his bed vibrate.

He groaned, threw off his blanket, and grabbed his outer robe. Trudging downstairs, he noticed that the teahouse itself was completely undisturbed—not a single chair was out of place, courtesy of the System’s absolute architectural invulnerability. But outside, the wind was howling.

Lin Fan opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

The terrifying pillar of blood-light had already vanished. The phantom sword in the sky had dispersed. The only thing left was Crimson, standing in the middle of the street, breathing heavily, his black robes billowing in the residual wind.

Lin Fan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around. ”What happened?”

Crimson immediately sheathed his sword, suppressing an aura that could currently annihilate an entire kingdom down to absolute zero. He bowed his head respectfully.

”A minor matter, Owner. Just a small breakthrough in my martial path.”

Lin Fan nodded slowly. He didn’t know much about cultivation, but he knew Qingshui town. The local guards were mostly Qi Gathering, and the town magistrate was at the Foundation Establishment stage. Since Crimson was acting as his security guard, Lin Fan naturally assumed the man had just reached Foundation Establishment.

Good for him, Lin Fan thought reasonably. A Foundation Establishment bouncer is great for business. Very respectable.

Then, Lin Fan looked down.

A thirty-foot crater had been carved into the street. The cobblestones were entirely pulverized into fine dust. The impact had sheared off the top layer of the road, leaving a jagged, smoking patch of ruined earth directly in front of the teahouse steps.

Lin Fan’s eye twitched.

”You broke the pavement?”

Crimson froze. The newly ascended Saint, a man who had just touched the fundamental Laws of the universe and possessed enough raw power to split a mountain range in half with a single swing, looked at the crater.

”...” Crimson remained dead silent.

”The town magistrate is going to fine me for that,” Lin Fan sighed, rubbing his temples. ”I strictly enforce a policy of not paying unnecessary fines. Fix it.”

Crimson bowed perfectly at the waist. ”Yes, Owner. I shall relay the stones by hand before dawn.”

Lin Fan nodded, satisfied with the customer service mindset. He turned to go back inside, but Crimson suddenly stepped forward and dropped to one knee in the dust.

”Owner Lin,” Crimson said, his voice entirely stripped of its usual murderous edge. It was thick with absolute, unshakeable reverence. ”When I arrived on your porch, my foundation was shattered and my life was at its end. You did not just save me. You granted me tea that cleansed my soul, an environment that reshaped my destiny, and a path to power I thought forever lost to me.”

Crimson drew his black sword and laid it flat across his upturned palms, offering it toward Lin Fan.

”I am a weapon forged in blood. But from this night until my soul dissipates into the void, I am your weapon. My loyalty is eternal. Whoever offends the teahouse, I will sever from the cycle of reincarnation.”

Lin Fan looked at the kneeling man. The sheer intensity of the oath made him immensely uncomfortable, mostly because he was just running a tea shop, not a mafia syndicate. But the sincerity in Crimson’s eyes was undeniable.

”Just... keep the front door safe, Crimson,” Lin Fan said gently. ”That’s all I ask.”

”With my life,” Crimson vowed.

Lin Fan turned the doorknob, feeling a sudden pang of curiosity. He had been so busy avoiding lightning strikes and dealing with flour tornadoes that he had completely ignored the giant, blood-soaked elephant in the room.

He looked back over his shoulder.

”Speaking of which... I never actually asked. How did you end up bleeding to death on my porch in the first place? What happened to you out there?”

Crimson slowly lowered his sword. The temperature in the street seemed to drop ten degrees, his red eyes darkening with the memory of a profound betrayal.