As the commotion unfolded, a black-robed man in his late twenties, armed with a sharp sword, stepped forward from behind the fiery red-clad woman. "Junior Sister, don't be disappointed," he said soothingly. "If you have your eye on a seat, just let me know. I'll make sure it's yours."
The woman's eyes lit up with delight. "Senior Brother Wang Ziyang, are you serious? But... I'd better not. Father is nearby, and if he finds out, I'll get scolded again."
Her excitement dimmed as she recalled her strict, no-nonsense father.
Wang Ziyang, however, was not about to waste the chance to show off in front of his beloved. Flashing a confident smile, he replied, "Don't worry. I won't resort to violence. I'll handle it so they willingly give up the seat. Just pick the one you like."
The red-clad woman brightened immediately and scanned the second floor. Her gaze settled on a window-side table.
"Wait here, Junior Sister. I'll take care of it," Wang Ziyang declared confidently before heading toward the table.
Xiao Chen, seated at the targeted table, had overheard their conversation. Though uninterested in their squabble, his heightened senses as a cultivator made it impossible to ignore. When Wang Ziyang approached, Xiao Chen's brows furrowed slightly but soon relaxed. He picked up his wine cup, continuing to drink as though oblivious.
"Excuse me, friend," Wang Ziyang said as he arrived at Xiao Chen's table. His tone was polite but carried a hint of condescension. "Would you mind giving up this seat? I can offer ten taels of silver as compensation."
Sizing up Xiao Chen's scholarly attire and unarmed appearance, Wang Ziyang felt confident. "A mere bookish commoner shouldn't cause any trouble," he thought, though his irritation lingered. "If Master wasn't watching, I'd simply toss him out and save the effort."
Without looking up, Xiao Chen replied evenly, "No."
"What?" Wang Ziyang froze, unable to believe his ears.
"I said no. I'm not giving up my seat." Xiao Chen's tone was calm as he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of food.
Wang Ziyang's face darkened. Forcing a smile, he said, "Friend, this meal of yours likely costs less than a single tael. If you agree, not only will I cover today's expenses, but I'll also give you ten taels extra. Consider it carefully."
Xiao Chen finally looked up, his expression serene. "I'll leave when I've finished eating. Not before. Even if you offer a thousand taels, my answer won't change. Please, leave."
Wang Ziyang's anger flared, his expression twisting in frustration. Just as he was about to respond, a light chuckle came from across the room.
"How amusing. A braggart boasting in front of a lady, only to have his pride handed back to him. Truly entertaining."
Though the voice wasn't loud, it was clear enough for everyone on the second floor to hear.
"Who said that?!" Wang Ziyang snarled, his face flushing red with embarrassment. He turned sharply to locate the speaker.
The culprit was a young man of seventeen or eighteen, dressed in fine silks and holding a white folding fan. His features were strikingly delicate, his demeanor exuding an air of playful arrogance. His lips curled into a mocking smile, giving him the aura of a mischievous nobleman. Were it not for his attire, he might easily be mistaken for a beautiful woman.
"Annoyed that someone won't yield their seat? Planning to resort to violence to save face?" the young man taunted, opening his fan with a sharp snap and wagging it as if to punctuate his words.
Wang Ziyang's expression darkened further, his humiliation palpable. Turning back to Xiao Chen, he lowered his voice, dripping with menace. "Fifty taels. Take the offer. Otherwise, you might find yourself running into trouble—this area isn't as safe as it looks."
This was no longer an offer. It was a thinly veiled threat.
The tension spread across the second floor, silencing the previously lively chatter. The patrons, many of whom were wealthy locals, exchanged uneasy glances.
Unmoved, Xiao Chen looked up briefly and delivered a cold, resolute reply: "No."
"Bravo!" the silk-clad youth exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Such fortitude! To resist wealth and intimidation—truly a man of principle! Would you care to join me for a drink, friend?"
Xiao Chen glanced at him, an amused flicker in his eyes, before shaking his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. I have pressing matters to attend to."
The young man's laughter rang out again, unfazed. "Very well. Another time, perhaps."
Wang Ziyang, on the other hand, stood frozen in embarrassment, his face alternating between pale and livid. No one on the floor, it seemed, took him seriously anymore.
"Enough! Get back here!"
A commanding voice boomed from the stairwell, silencing the room. All heads turned as a stately elder ascended, flanked by over a dozen followers. His crimson robes and snow-white hair lent him an air of authority, and his piercing gaze swept the room with practiced ease.
"Master!" Wang Ziyang hurriedly retreated, his arrogance deflated.
The elder clasped his hands and addressed the room. "I apologize for my disciple's youthful arrogance. Please forgive any offense he may have caused." Turning to a nearby server, he added, "Prepare five private rooms in the rear courtyard. Serve our meal there."
"Yes, sir. Right away!"
The group filed downstairs under the elder's command. Wang Ziyang cast one last venomous glare at Xiao Chen before vanishing.
Xiao Chen chuckled softly, unfazed. With his current strength rivaling a Foundation Establishment cultivator, a mere mortal like Wang Ziyang posed no threat.
After finishing his meal, Xiao Chen descended to the courtyard, ready to rest and reflect.
From the second floor, the silk-clad youth watched him leave, a faint smirk on his lips and a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes. "Interesting…"