Entering Shangshu required identification checks—and that was where their travel permits came in handy. During the annual summit period, Shangshu’s regulations were exceptionally strict; even the most cunning thieves wouldn’t make it past the gates.

Felix couldn’t help but think of the Yan’s notorious crime syndicate, the Shanhaizhong. If this were a Japanese RPG, he thought, they’d surely sneak in to stir up trouble during a grand event like this. But reality proved otherwise—teams of guards, each armed with rifles and swords, patrolled every corner in disciplined formation. A quick glance at their gear told him everything: purple-tier equipment.

“Impressive security,” Felix mused. After presenting his travel pass to one of the guards, he and his companions were allowed through.

The moment they entered, a wave of spicy fragrance rushed to meet them. Lifting his gaze, Felix found the entrance lined with souvenir shops—all selling hotpot base ingredients.

“This… is exactly like the real world,” he thought, amused. Still, the pungent aroma was strong enough to make him sneeze.

“Where to first?” he asked.

The one leading the group wasn’t Felix, but Ch’en Hui-chieh. She glanced at her watch and replied, “The summit starts in three days. We arrived a day earlier than planned. Our inn is near the venue—we’ll head there first.”

Felix gave a casual OK sign and steered the car into Shangshu’s bustling streets.

Driving here was a challenge. The layout reminded him of Chongqing—looking at the map didn’t help at all. Eventually, he had to stop and ask an old man basking in the sun for directions to the yiguan. That’s what inns were called here—”relay houses”—a touch that gave the city a classic martial arts charm.

Along the way, he spotted a few familiar figures: players from Tomorrow’s Development, apparently in town for trade missions. He didn’t call out to them and soon pulled up in front of the inn.

—

As soon as they stepped inside, lively voices drifted from the teahouse on the first floor.

“—And with a thunderous roar, Xiangtian Dao brandished his blade, fierce as a demon king! He hurled it to the ground and bellowed, ‘Which hero dares challenge me?!’—”

The storyteller’s fan sliced through the air as he spoke, his gestures grand and impassioned.

“He’s reciting The Sword of Mount Shu,” Lin Yühsia murmured after listening for a moment. “It’s a classic Yan martial tale set right here in Shangshu. Everyone here knows it by heart.”

Felix nodded, genuinely intrigued. The man’s performance was vivid—his voice carried emotion and rhythm. For a moment, Felix found himself tempted to sit down, sip tea, and listen for hours.

“Three rooms,” Ch’en said to the innkeeper.

“Right away!” the man replied smartly. He gestured to a young attendant, who ushered them toward a quieter corridor in the back.

“This way, honored guests. If you need anything, just let me know.”

He handed them their keys with a polite bow and scurried off, full of youthful energy.

“The innkeeper’s in the know,” Ch’en remarked, taking one of the keys from Felix. “Everyone involved in the summit briefing stays here. They keep us separate from ordinary guests.”

“I thought we’d be taking over an entire hotel,” Felix said lightly.

“In the Yan, officials despise special treatment,” Lin Yühsia explained. “Sharing the same lodging as commoners is considered a virtue.”

She said it confidently, though in truth, her understanding of domestic politics came mostly from stories her father had told her. Felix, on the other hand, had read enough history books and dramas in his past life to have a pretty clear picture of what a bureaucracy was really like. Ironically, he probably understood the Yan’s officialdom better than either of them.

—

After changing into lighter clothes, Felix decided to take a stroll through the city. He shook the flask hanging from his belt, waited a moment, and summoned Muelsyse, from her containment orb.

Gone was his standard Tomorrow’s Development uniform—he now wore elegant Yan attire, the same style he’d once bought in Lungmen while traveling with Muelsyse. The spirit herself transformed quickly, her outfit now matching the city’s fashion.

Hand in hand, the two stepped into Shangshu’s streets, their robes fluttering with the breeze—a striking pair, almost ethereal.

On the first day, the trio decided to explore separately. Felix spent his time wandering the nearby districts before returning to the inn that evening. There, he found himself once again drawn to the teahouse, listening to the storyteller continue The Sword of Mount Shu.

He left that night with more than just entertainment—he’d learned something valuable.

He soon discovered that aside from its famous hotpot, Shangshu was also a hub for blacksmithing. In just a few blocks, he passed two or three bustling forges. Peeking inside, he saw flames roaring, hammers ringing, and craftsmen shouting over the din—it was a sight full of energy and heat.

It had been quite some time since Felix last practiced his blacksmithing or engineering crafts. Blacksmithing was for forging armor, while engineering was closely tied to the blueprints of various manufacturing tools. Perhaps this was the perfect chance to acquire a new professional advancement manual.

Meanwhile, Muelsyse was enjoying a long-overdue moment of relaxation. She wandered the streets with Felix, smiling and chatting, until shortly before dinner, when she returned to her watery form and slipped back into the flask at his side.

At a teahouse along the main street, Ch’en Hui-chieh and Lin Yühsia were already seated when Felix arrived in his new outfit. It was their first time seeing him dressed this way—and they had to admit, it suited him perfectly. With his calm and refined demeanor, gentle yet sharp gaze, and quiet confidence, he looked exactly like the elegant “Jade-faced Gentleman,” the famed second male lead from Sword of Mount Shu.

“—You! You’re perfect!”

Before Felix could even sit down, a tattooed arm shot out from the next table, grabbing his hand firmly.

He blinked, startled, as a silver-haired, violet-eyed woman bounded up to him with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Hey, would you be interested in acting in my movie? I’m working on a film adaptation of Sword of Mount Shu, and I’m still looking for someone to play the second lead!”

Her arms caught his attention—colored in vivid red from mid-forearm to fingertip, accented with traces of blue and green. It looked like intricate body art, though it gave her a rather striking appearance. Perhaps it was a personal aesthetic choice?

Felix regarded the lung-blooded woman with polite confusion. “I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on! My movies are really good! You can look up Dreams of the Martial World and The Great Demon King Jiang Qi—I directed both!”

“…I just checked,” Lin Yühsia said flatly after a quick search on her phone. “One has a rating of 1.4, and the other, 2.1.”

Thud.

The woman collapsed onto the table.

Ch’en Hui-chieh twitched at the corner of her mouth, while Felix had no idea what to say.

Moments later, the woman sprang back up, hands on her hips as though nothing had happened. “Alright, how about this—I’ll pay you! Everyone gets a fee for acting, right?”

She fished around in her pocket before handing him a hand-scribbled business card. “I’m staying nearby for now. If you change your mind, come find me!”

“Uh… alright,” Felix replied awkwardly.

“Just call me Nian!” she said with a grin, waving before briskly leaving the teahouse.

After she was gone, Felix glanced at the crooked handwriting on the card—it was clearly hand-drawn rather than printed. Utterly unprofessional, he thought, though he still slipped it into his pocket out of courtesy.

“What a strange person,” Ch’en Hui-chieh muttered, opening the menu. “Anyway, let’s order.”

As they waited for their food, Lin Yühsia spoke up quietly. “Two young masters from Kou-wu City arrived earlier. Both are sons of nobles. They checked into this very teahouse—and they tried to flirt with me.”

Ch’en Hui-chieh frowned, clearly displeased. “Typical. Kou-wu City is practically ruled by the aristocracy.”

“They were also hoping to court you, weren’t they?” Lin Yühsia added coolly.

“I have no interest in them,” Ch’en Hui-chieh said sharply. “If they try to get too close, I’ll let them feels how sharp Chi Xiao is.”

Felix sighed. “Ladies, if you resort to violence, it might turn into a diplomatic incident.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was one of those cliché setups—where the spoiled noble brats would see him sitting with two beautiful women, get jealous, pick a fight, saying about courting death whatever, and end up calling some powerful elder to take revenge.

Surely it won’t be that predictable… right?

“They won’t make a move during the conference,” Ch’en Hui-chieh said, glancing at him. “But I apologize—you might still get dragged into their games because of me.”

“I’m prepared for that,” Felix replied calmly, fingers interlaced. “Petty tricks like that won’t make me lose composure.”

The conversation drifted to lighter topics—

“So how exactly did they harass you?”

“They asked me out without even knowing my name. Two spoiled playboys acting on impulse,” Lin Yühsia said dryly.

“You didn’t teach them a lesson? That’s surprising,” Ch’en Hui-chieh teased.

“Hmph. I haven’t forgotten who I am. But you—you’ll have to wear that Qipao soon. Are you ready for it?”

“Ugh, stop nagging. I’ll go try it tomorrow. Want to come with me?”

“Sure. If you dare, I dare.”

And just like that, their conversation devolved into a playful, almost childlike argument.

Felix’s gaze deepened. In novels, this kind of “face-slapping young masters” drama was practically guaranteed—but in real life, people from such great families usually fell into two categories: the reckless, lust-driven types like the ones the girls had described, or the well-mannered heirs who carried themselves with dignity and restraint.

Usually, the former were never true core members of their clans…

Ah, there he went again—thinking like a character inside a novel.

He sighed inwardly and took a sip of tea.

If those two still dared to act so brazenly during the annual conference, then they were either fearless—or utterly foolish. After all, countless eyes were watching this event, and every word or gesture would be reported upward. The incident involving Lin Yühsia being harassed would certainly be recorded as well.

Did those two really not realize that? Or were they doing it deliberately?

Either way, Felix would soon find out whether they were genuinely brainless or just playing the fool to hide deeper motives. If it was the latter, perhaps they might even be worth a conversation.

The next morning, Ch’en Hui-chieh dragged Lin Yühsia out early to the city center’s boutiques, declaring that she must buy a Qipao today. To Felix, though, the two of them looked more like bickering schoolgirls competing in stubbornness than shoppers on a mission.

He, on the other hand, followed the address written on the crooked little card and took the subway to the southern district. The area sat on a small hill overlooking the heart of Shangshu. From there, he could see the sprawling skyline blanketed by clouds and mist—the floating city veiled in an almost dreamlike haze, half heavenly, half illusory, like a mirage suspended in the sky.

Without realizing it, he murmured softly:

“Looking back from the heights toward the mortal world—no sight of Chang’an, only dust and fog.”

It wasn’t quite the right mood for that line, he mused. He remembered it from The Song of Everlasting Sorrow, which he had memorized back in school. In its original meaning, the verse spoke of gazing from the immortal realm toward the mortal world—seeing only the distant haze where Chang’an once lay, expressing an endless longing that even death could not dissolve.

Did he miss his original world? Perhaps he did, sometimes. Players often said that even during offline meetups, nostalgia would strike them unexpectedly. But he couldn’t go back. In this life, he carried too many responsibilities, too many expectations, too many eyes watching him. He had already formed his own bonds here.

If this world was the Underworld from Sword Art Online, then he had already found more than one “Alice” of his own. How could he possibly abandon them now?

“Such fine poetry,” came a voice beside him, lilting and strange. “The young master carries himself with grace yet speaks with longing—tapping the railings as though weighed by distant memories. Admirable spirit indeed.”

A woman approached, speaking in an archaic tone that made Felix blink. She carried a wine flask, her attire reminiscent of a wandering swordswoman from ancient times. Ever since arriving in Shangshu—or rather, deep in the heart of the Yan Empire—Felix felt as if everyone he met had stepped out of a different era. They spoke in “thee” and “thou,” carried blades or bundles on their backs, and looked ready to embark on adventures across the rivers and lakes of some long-lost age to the west.

The woman had long azure hair and clear, violet-blue eyes. Her clothes were simple but bore the air of a martial wanderer, and a long staff was strapped to her back—with, oddly enough, a lantern hanging from its end.

Good heavens, Felix thought dryly. What is this—Jax from League of Legends?

He looked up, meeting her gaze. For an instant, their eyes locked—like a fleeting eternity shared between strangers.

Then she smiled faintly. “You have a poet’s heart, sir. Would you care to share a drink?”

“I could,” Felix replied, his tone unconsciously mirroring her formal cadence. “But I have pressing business at the moment.”

He took out the crookedly written card to show her. To his surprise, she chuckled upon seeing it.

“I see, I see. Since the gentleman has duties to attend, I shall not impose further.”

She stepped aside gracefully, smiling as she said, “Perhaps I shall trouble you another day, good sir.”

“…Alright?” Felix blinked, watching her walk away with her staff and lantern swaying at her back, utterly perplexed.

Seriously, he thought, are all people in the Yan like this?

After all his years living in Lungmen, he thought he understood the way people spoke. But these Yanese folk—

They speak like poets!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep