The Young Man’s Return Chapter Sixteen: The Innkeeper’s Assistant

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In a side room of the backyard.

County Magistrate Li wore a grave expression as he strode across the threshold, accompanied by several officers.

“Please, sir, have a seat.”

Seeing this, the Deputy County Magistrate hurried forward, carefully placing a stool before the bed.

Li gave a slight nod, settling steadily onto the chair, his gaze sharp as he looked at Clerk Wu lying on the bed.

“Clerk Wu, I have confirmed that you stole my official seal and sold it to the gambling house owner. At this point, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Li’s voice was low but commanding, echoing in the dimly lit room.

Supported by Aunt Liu, Clerk Wu struggled to sit up, then knelt on the bed with a heavy thud. Though his face was pale and ill, it carried a resolute determination.

“Your Honor, I have nothing to say. Yes, I stole the seal, but this matter has nothing to do with my mother. Each person must bear their own responsibility. I am willing to accept all consequences.”

“Hmph, you’ve got some backbone after all,” Li sneered, his eyes flickering with a complex emotion.

At that moment, Aunt Liu, who had been standing by silently, suddenly knelt with a thud, tears streaming as she pleaded:

“Sir, it was I who ordered Hao’er to steal the seal. He’s still young and naive. This old woman was blinded by greed. If you want to punish, punish me. I’m old and don’t have many years left. I can’t bear to see my son die!”

“Mother, please don’t do this!” Clerk Wu’s eyes reddened, his voice choked with emotion. “It was my fault. How can I let you take the blame? I deserve to die!”

Aunt Liu reached out and held Wu’s hand, her eyes filled with love and determination.

“Hao’er, just hearing you call me ‘mother’ makes my life worthwhile. For years, I’ve hoped to find you. Now that I finally have, my wish is fulfilled. I ask for nothing more than your life be spared. If you want to kill someone, kill me instead!”

Li watched this scene, momentarily moved, but quickly regained his stern demeanor. Leaning forward, he asked urgently:

“Tell me, which gambling house owner did you give the seal to?”

“I... I gave it to the owner of Wan Guan Pavilion in the west of the city,” Wu replied, lowering his head, voice faint but clear.

“Sergeant, Constable!”

Li slammed his stool down and stood abruptly, issuing orders loudly:

“You two, each take a team and head to Wan Guan Pavilion immediately. Bring back the owner and the seal unharmed. Disobedience will be dealt with by military law!”

“Understood!”

The sergeant and constable saluted, their postures sharp as they turned and quickly exited, their footsteps fading beyond the door.

“Brother, where are you going?” Li Shuyao hurried after Yi Heng, who was turning to leave.

“I’m going with them to check it out.”

Yi Heng glanced back at Shuyao, his gaze firm and unwavering.

County Magistrate Li also turned to Yi Heng, understanding his concerns. Since last night, Yi Heng had detailed the incident of encountering the demon corpse on the main street.

“Are you suspecting that the stolen seal case is connected to the demon that appeared on the street last night?” Li’s brow furrowed deeply, worry flickering in his eyes.

Yi Heng nodded gravely. “If I’m right, those demons weren’t after me but wanted to silence Clerk Wu. If that’s true, the Wan Guan Pavilion’s owner is no ordinary man—there’s likely a larger conspiracy behind this.”

“In recent days, I’ve also received reports of many citizens disappearing, and some bodies found completely drained of blood,” Li said, his face darkening. “Could all this be linked to the Wan Guan Pavilion’s owner?”

“If demons are involved, you can have the Demon Hunter Division handle it. As far as I know, our city’s Demon Hunter Division is exactly that Teahouse in the Green Robe,” Yi Heng suggested.

Li nodded solemnly. “I had already sent word to the Green Robe Teahouse about the disappearances and suspected demon activity.”

He then added with urgency, “I’ll send someone again to emphasize the seriousness and urgency of the matter. I imagine the Green Robe Teahouse will dispatch people to investigate Wan Guan Pavilion immediately.”

“Probably the Green Robe’s master will send her apprentice again,” Yi Heng smiled wryly. “This will be interesting. I wonder how that guy will react when he sees me back—maybe he’ll be so surprised he jumps for joy.”

Thinking of that fiercely proud waiter, Yi Heng’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he strode off.

Li Shuyao chased after him to the door, calling out anxiously, “Brother, be careful! If you can’t win, don’t stubbornly hold on—run! Don’t risk your life just to save face!”

Without stopping, Yi Heng waved back with a relaxed yet confident tone: “Don’t worry. Your brother is a cultivator; I’ve got some skill after all!”

...

On the main street of Beigu City, the heavy door of an old teahouse was kicked open with a loud bang.

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A young waiter burst out, carrying a steaming basin of foot-washing water.

His sword-like brows slanted sharply into his temples, eyes bright as stars. Despite his handsome and clear features, years of working under the sun had tanned his face dark.

Frowning deeply, his face full of indignation, he muttered, “Exploitation—this is blatant exploitation! Not only do they make me watch the shop and serve tea, but now they’re lazy enough to have me pour foot-washing water for her. It’s too much!”

Before finishing, he suddenly raised his hand and splashed the basin’s water forcefully.

“Hey! You little rascal, can’t you see? You almost drenched me!” a middle-aged man at the street side shouted, startled, leaping aside.

Still, the water splashed onto the man’s shoes, spreading across the stone pavement.

Unfazed, the youth glared and retorted loudly, “Old man, you’re the one without eyes! Why are you creeping up to me? If you get soaked, it’s your own fault—don’t blame me!”

“You’re so rude and unreasonable!” the man’s face flushed red with anger as he pointed at the waiter, shouting.

The young waiter refused to back down, rolling up his sleeves and stepping forward boldly, eyes wide with defiance, yelling, “What’s that? You want to fight? I’m not afraid of you!”

Just as tension peaked, a shadow streaked out of the inn’s open door with a whoosh.

It was a cotton shoe, flying straight at the waiter’s face, leaving a clear red footprint on his cheek.

“Ah! Don’t hit the face—how dare you hit me with a shoe!” the waiter shouted in shock and anger, hands on hips, roaring toward the inn.

Then, a soft, delicate voice floated from deep inside the inn with a lilting tone: “Making such a racket—planning a rebellion, are you?”

Her voice was melodious, and one could imagine her to be breathtakingly beautiful.

The waiter trembled with rage and vowed, “Hmph! When I surpass you in cultivation, I’ll make you serve me tea and water!”

The voice mocked mercilessly, “With your pitiful talent? Dream on—you’ll never be served by me!”

With a swish, another embroidered cotton shoe shot out like an arrow.

“I’m dodging!”

The waiter leapt aside, expecting to avoid it.

But the shoe seemed to have eyes; it curved mid-air and struck his right cheek sharply.

“Enough! Today, I’m fighting you!” The waiter’s face flushed red, eyes wide as copper coins, he howled hysterically at the inn’s door.

“If you dare, come on in,” the teasing, provocative voice floated again from behind the door.

Though shouting boldly, the waiter’s feet felt rooted in place. He knew well that after being hit in the face twice, storming in would only mean worse beatings.

He understood he was just venting—if things turned physical, the woman could crush him like an ant with a single finger.

Thinking quickly, he forced calm and said loudly, “The master said, a gentleman uses words, not fists. I’m just too lazy to argue with someone like you!”

Nearby, the man laughed loudly at the waiter’s defeat, mocking, “Serves you right! What a coward, just shouting nonsense!”

Before his laughter faded, a basin of cold water was dumped over him from the inn’s door.

Soon after, a woman strode out, hands on hips, fiery and commanding.

She wasn’t stunning but had delicate, exquisite features and a unique beauty. Draped in a black mink coat, she looked both spirited and lazily just-awakened.

Her almond eyes snapped open as she bellowed, “Get lost! Say another word and I’ll hang you on the city wall to dry like bacon!”

The man’s face went pale instantly. He knew she was ruthless and not joking. If he angered her, he’d likely end up displayed on the city wall.

“Who did I piss off so early? Just my luck,” he muttered, soaked and shivering, clutching himself as he fled home, looking utterly miserable in the cold wind.

The woman raised her brows imperiously: “Still standing there dazed? I’m hungry. Go cook me a pot of red date and longan porridge.”

The waiter grumbled reluctantly, “You’ve got hands yourself. Why don’t you make it if you want it?”

Her eyes flashed coldly. “Say one more word and I’ll make your training even harder.”

The waiter wilted immediately, quickly replying, “Alright, alright, I’ll get the porridge going!” He took the foot-washing basin and slouched toward the inn’s door.

The woman noticed and frowned slightly, adding, “Pick up my cotton shoes too, and wash them clean once the porridge’s ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter replied, turning to retrieve the shoes. Touching them, the spots where the shoe soles had left prints on his face tingled painfully—the marks had landed precisely on each cheek.

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About the time an incense stick burned down, a constable galloped swiftly down the main street.

At the inn, he pulled his reins tight, the horse whinnied, and he leapt off.

Glancing up at the signboard reading “Green Robe Teahouse,” he pushed open the door.

“Is the Green Robe’s master here?” he called out.

Inside the backyard, the young waiter was crouched by the stove, tending a simmering pot of red date and longan porridge, releasing a faint, pleasant aroma.

“Come in! Someone’s here,” the waiter said, standing and wiping his face. He intended to clear the sweat but ended up smearing a patch of black soot instead.

The faint shoe marks on his face had faded, but the stove’s heat flushed his cheeks slightly.

He wore a tattered cloth belt and a faded, overwashed shirt patched at the knees with black fabric squares.

His eyes were guarded as he stared at the constable, asking warily, “What business do you have with her?”

The constable looked anxious and said quickly, “There’s demon activity in the city. The County Magistrate specially requested the Green Robe’s master to exterminate them.”

The waiter glanced toward the inner room, where a woman lay asleep in a bamboo rocking chair, covered with a quilt, snoring softly.

He snorted and waved him off impatiently, “Can’t you see she’s sleeping? Go back and tell your magistrate that the Green Robe’s master is unavailable. As for the demons, let him deal with it himself!”

The constable’s face fell, pleading, “What… what should I do? If the Green Robe’s master refuses, I can’t report back!”

“Whether you can report or not is none of my concern,” the waiter shot back, turning to his porridge, “Can’t you see I’m busy cooking? Even if the sky falls, I’ll finish this pot first!”

The constable’s eyes flickered, then he tried a suggestion, “How about this—I help cook the porridge, and you come with me to exterminate the demons?”

He knew that when demons had appeared before, the magistrate had called the Green Robe’s master. Unexpectedly, it was this youth disguised as a waiter who had fought.

The wolf demon was fierce, wounding many constables and soldiers. Without the youth’s timely intervention, they would have been torn apart and devoured.

The youth’s performance was stunning—he casually cast a few spells and crushed the wolf demon into minced meat.

The constable thought that if he could persuade this youth to act again, it might solve their big problem.

Although young Master Yi Heng was also a cultivator, he seemed gentle and harmless, likely less capable than this elusive waiter.

“He only eats the porridge I cook; if the flavor’s wrong, she won’t eat it. You just wait,” the waiter said while stirring the pot gently.

The rice was well boiled by now, and the rich aroma of red dates and goji berries filled the air, tempting the senses.

Seeing the waiter soften, the constable pressed on, “Hey, I heard you and young Master Yi Heng grew up together. Is that true?”

“He!” The waiter snorted coldly, a flicker of complexity in his voice. “You could say that.”

The constable’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Young Master Yi Heng has returned! From Lin’an City, no less, and he brought back lots of rare treasures!”

The waiter stopped abruptly, put down his ladle, and stepped forward, grabbing the constable’s collar. His eyes widened urgently as he asked, “What did you say? That bastard Yi Heng is back?”

Startled, the constable stammered, “Y-yes… why?”

“Tell me now—where is he?”

The constable gasped for breath under the grip. “L-let me go…”

Realizing his overreaction, the waiter quickly released him and urged, “Hurry up and speak!”

“He went to Wan Guan Pavilion in the west of the city,” the constable rubbed his sore neck, still shaken.

“Hey, watch the porridge and don’t burn it. I’m going to Wan Guan Pavilion!” the waiter said, taking off his apron and handing it to the constable before dashing toward the back gate, disappearing swiftly from sight.