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

As the afternoon sun dipped lower behind the towering capital pagodas, casting long, bruised violet shadows across the paved imperial avenues, the Lin’s Inn expedition team navigated their way toward the secondary competition sector. The glittering wealth of the inner commercial ring slowly gave way to slightly older, more traditional stone alleyways where the secondary pavilions and lodging quarters were situated.

While walking down a narrow stone thoroughfare near the district square, Xiao Ling tugged gently on Lin Fan’s sleeve, pointing toward a massive public placard board covered in fluttering white and yellow paper notices.

”Look, Shopkeeper Lin,” Xiao Ling whispered softly. ”There are so many papers pasted on that wall.”

Lin Fan paused, slowing his pace as he walked over to inspect the board. Sect Master Lu, Xiao Yu, and Crimson gathered closely behind him.

At first glance, Lin Fan assumed they were standard government decrees, tax updates, or festival schedules. But as his eyes scanned the lines of hand-brushed ink, the lighthearted travel atmosphere instantly evaporated, replaced by a heavy, unsettling chill.

They weren’t festival notices. They were missing-person placards.

Dozens of handwritten posters fluttered in the autumn breeze. Most of them displayed frantic descriptions of children between the ages of seven and fourteen who had vanished without a trace over the past two months. Others detailed adult laborers, herbalists, dockworkers, and domestic servants who had simply failed to return home after their shifts.

Standing near the center of the board was a ragged, exhausted woman holding a scrap of paper, crying hysterically as she grabbed the sleeve of a passing imperial patrol guard.

”Please, honored guard!” the woman sobbed, her voice cracking with motherly desperation. ”My son... my twelve-year-old boy went out to run an errand near the eastern canal three nights ago and never came back! Have you seen him? Is there any news from the magistrate?!”

The imperial guard sighed heavily, pulling his arm away with cold, bureaucratic impatience. ”Good woman, this is the Imperial Capital. Millions of people walk these streets every single day. People wander off, runaway laborers skip town, and travelers get lost. The patrol division cannot possibly stop to investigate every single missing person report. File your paperwork at the district office and move along.”

The guard pushed past her, continuing his patrol without a backward glance. The weeping mother collapsed against the stone wall, burying her face in her hands as her muffled cries echoed through the quiet alley.

Lin Fan stood frozen before the board. A heavy, unpleasant knot tightened in his chest.

In Qingshui Town, everyone knew everyone. If a child went missing, the entire village mobilized within ten minutes. But here, inside the magnificent, glittering heart of the empire, human lives seemed to be treated like disposable statistics.

Lin Fan walked over to an old, weathered shopkeeper who was sweeping the pavement outside a small tea stall near the corner. Lin Fan lowered his voice, gesturing toward the notice board. ”Excuse me, elder. That woman... and all those other notices. How long has this been happening in the capital?”

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The old shopkeeper stopped sweeping. He cast a fearful, jittery glance up and down the alley before leaning in close, speaking in a low, trembling whisper.

”Two months. Maybe longer,” the old man muttered, his hands shaking on his broom. ”People are vanishing off the streets, master. Mostly orphans, street workers, and poor laborers from the outer wards. At first, the guards brushed it off as runaways. But too many are disappearing from locked rooms and quiet alleys without a single sound. People whisper that something dark is moving through the shadows of the capital... but nobody with real power cares enough to look.”

Lin Fan stared at the old shopkeeper for a moment, then looked back at the mother crying against the stone wall.

A sharp, pragmatic voice in the back of his mind spoke up clearly: You are an innkeeper. You are here to win an imperial hospitality license, secure a capital branch, and earn ten thousand hospitality points. You are not a detective, a hero, or a wandering cultivator on a crusade. Getting involved in capital mysteries is a fantastic way to ruin your business expansion.

Lin Fan knew the pragmatic choice was to turn around, walk away, and focus entirely on his competition prep.

Yet, as he reached into his travel pouch, his fingers brushed against a warm, freshly baked meat bun Sect Master Lu had prepared earlier that afternoon.

Lin Fan let out a long, quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. ”I really am terrible at ignoring people when I have food in my pocket,” he muttered to himself.

He walked over to the weeping mother, knelt gently beside her, and opened a clean paper wrapper, revealing a warm, golden-brown meat bun that radiated a rich, comforting aroma.

”Here,” Lin Fan said softly, placing the warm bun into her trembling hands. ”Eat this. It will give you strength.”

The woman looked up, her tear-stained face registering utter shock as she stared at the kind, ordinary man in a clean white apron.

”I cannot bring your son back today, madam,” Lin Fan said gently, his voice steady and sincere. ”And I am certainly not a hero. But if you are ever hungry while searching the streets, come to Secondary Competition Pavilion, Building Four. There will always be a hot meal waiting for you at Lin’s Inn. Free of charge.”

The woman pressed the warm bun to her chest, her lips quivering as she choked out a broken, heartfelt whisper. ”T-Thank you... kind master... thank you...”

Lin Fan stood up, dusting off his knees, and walked back to where his team was waiting. He didn’t say a word about the missing persons, and neither did Xiao Yu or Lu. They simply respected their shopkeeper’s quiet humanity and continued walking toward their assigned lodging.

As they finally reached the quiet courtyard of Secondary Pavilion Building Four, the team began unloading the supply wagon, setting up their portable hearths, and preparing the guest chambers for a restful night before the competition trials began.

Lin Fan stood near the courtyard entrance, looking up at the glowing lanterns of the capital city stretching across the vast night sky.

Suddenly, a shadow flickered silently at the edge of the perimeter wall.

Crimson materialized right beside Lin Fan’s shoulder, his dark robes brushing against the stone floor. The ancient demon lord did not look at the capital skyline; instead, his glowing red eyes remained fixed on a dark alleyway across the street.

”Master,” Crimson murmured quietly, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.

Lin Fan glanced at him. ”What is it, Crimson?”

”Someone has been watching our group ever since we passed through the capital gates,” Crimson stated flatly, his red eyes narrowing with lethal intent. ”They are currently stationed across the street, maintaining a distance of precisely three hundred paces. Their concealment technique is sophisticated... but amateurish.”

Lin Fan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked across the dark street, seeing nothing but empty shadows under the flickering streetlamps.

A cold, calm smile touched Lin Fan’s lips.

”Well,” Lin Fan whispered, turning toward the kitchen entrance where Sect Master Lu was already firing up the portable spirit-stone hearths. ”We haven’t even opened our doors yet, and we’ve already caught someone’s attention. Let them watch, Crimson. Tomorrow, we open for business—and if they want to see what Lin’s Inn is made of, they can buy a ticket like everyone else.”