The clatter of hooves echoed through Sunflower Town as the City Lord's carriage rolled down the main street. Civilians froze in place, wide-eyed.
"The City Lord… here?!"
"What's going on? Why's he heading toward the Lin family inn?"
"Did the Lin family offend him?"
Whispers spread like wildfire. By the time the carriage stopped before the inn, half the street had gathered.
The door opened, and Qiao Liang stepped out in his black and silver robes, his aura calm yet commanding. Even without releasing qi, his presence pressed down like a mountain, silencing the chatter in an instant.
The inn's door slid open. Lin Ruyin stepped out, hands folded politely.
"City Lord Qiao." She smiled faintly. "Our humble inn rarely hosts such an esteemed guest. I fear we have no dishes fine enough for your palate."
Liang chuckled. "Madam Lin, I've heard your cooking is unmatched in this town. Even a feast in the mansion cannot compare to the warmth of your kitchen."
Ruyin's brow softened at the compliment. "You always did have a silver tongue."
Just then, Lin Feng and Xue hurried out, bowing respectfully.
"City Lord," Feng said firmly.
Liang's gaze lingered on Feng, his eyes thoughtful. "Lin Feng. Diligent, respectful, humble. If Wen could mirror even half your character, I would sleep easier at night."
Feng flushed at the praise.
Xue, however, puffed out her chest and piped up, "City Lord, my brother's only like that because Mother nags him so much!"
The gathered crowd stifled laughter. Even Ruyin's lips twitched. Feng's face turned crimson.
Liang's booming laugh broke the tension. He bent slightly to meet Xue's bright eyes. "And what about you, young lady? Do you also nag your brother?"
"I don't nag," Xue said proudly. "I just tell him when he's being stupid."
Liang shook his head, amused. "Sharp tongue, sharp mind. She'll keep him grounded in the future."
Ruyin gestured toward the inn. "Please, come inside. We'll prepare a table—"
Liang raised a hand. "No need. I did not come for food or drink. I came to see someone."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Then, I presume you mean… Senior John."
Before Liang could answer, a loud commotion rippled through the street. Two more entourages approached from opposite directions.
The Fang clan arrived first, armored guards fanning out as Fang Heshan, the white-haired elder with an ironwood cane, strode forward. Though his steps were measured, each one landed with the steadiness of a mountain—his age betrayed only by his hair, not his presence.
From the other side, the Ren family marched in crisp formation, led by Ren Huailin in flowing embroidered robes. He held his fan loosely, but his eyes were sharp and restless, scanning the inn as though measuring its worth in an instant.
The crowd gasped.
"All three powers?!"
"The Fang, the Ren, and the City Lord… converging here?"
"What kind of inn is this?"
Inside, the air thickened.
"City Lord Qiao," Heshan greeted, leaning lightly on his cane, though his voice rang steady. "Rare to see you outside your mansion."
"Fang Elder," Liang replied with a nod. "Your steps still strike firmer than men half your age. I see time hasn't won against you yet."
Huailin snapped his fan shut with a smile. "And here I thought today would be dull. When the three of us gather, it means one of two things: calamity… or opportunity."
The way they traded words carried rivalry, yet there was no true malice. Their tones were sharp, but their eyes gleamed with the familiarity of men who had crossed blades, bargains, and banquets for decades.
Ruyin stepped forward, her smile polite though her fingers tightened slightly around her sleeve. "Gentlemen, may I ask why you've brought such grandeur to my doorstep?"
Heshan tapped his cane against the wooden floor. "We came for the same reason as the City Lord, no doubt. To meet this… mysterious master."
Huailin folded his hands. "Indeed. Madam Lin, where is Senior John?"
Every gaze turned toward her. The air in the inn stilled.
Ruyin only smiled, tilting her head toward her son. "You should ask Feng. He knows best."
Feng's throat tightened as three pairs of powerful eyes locked onto him, but he drew in a breath and straightened his back.
"Senior John…" He scratched his head. "Well, he really likes shopping. He's probably still wandering the market. But if you wait, he'll be back soon."
A subtle ripple passed through the three leaders. Glances exchanged, silent calculations flickered in their eyes.
Outside, the civilians' murmurs swelled to a fever pitch.
Meanwhile, in the marketplace…
John stood in the middle of a bustling street, surrounded by stall owners desperately waving their wares.
"Senior, finest silk talismans!"
"Look, rare herbs, good for body refining!"
"Master, this pendant was blessed by a wandering monk!"
John rubbed his chin, eyes flicking lazily over the stalls with the air of a man browsing for curiosity, not necessity.
Then, his gaze turned faintly toward the direction of the inn. A small smile curved his lips.
"Heh. Looks like things are about to get lively."