On the fragrant couch, the proprietress remained motionless. Yang Kai waited for a while, then cupped his fists, set the basket on the table, turned, and withdrew.
Back in his room, he sat cross-legged in meditation, circulating his cultivation to regulate his breathing. The Five Elements Fire power had now been condensed within his Dao Seal. Although its quality had met his expectations, it still needed a period of consolidation — this was not something that could be rushed, requiring time to settle and stabilize.
Moreover, he had no idea where to find the next Five Elements Earth power, so this gap in the meantime could be put to good use.
Yang Kai could clearly sense the destructive aura contained within the Fire power in his Dao Seal. If deployed against an enemy, this force would absolutely prove formidable. Unfortunately, the Golden Crow's True Fire was far too distinctive. Unlike the Wood power — which operated on his own body, silent and imperceptible to others — the Fire power was a different story. Without absolute certainty, using it risked exposure, and cleaning up that kind of mess would be no small matter.
He quietly decided that, unless absolutely forced into a corner, he would never activate the Fire power in his Dao Seal. It was just like his Dragon Transformation secret art — a trump card to be saved for life-or-death moments.
Above the Dao Seal, green and black radiance flowed and shifted, alternating in an endlessly mysterious dance…
While deep in meditation, Yang Kai suddenly heard a strange sound. His eyes snapped open as he focused his senses. At first the sound was faint and indistinct, but upon careful attention, it resembled a woman's weeping — though the sobbing was so heavily suppressed that had Yang Kai not been in a state of deep mental focus with his perception sharpened, he likely wouldn't have caught it at all.
In this vast, empty void, how could there be a woman's crying? And so full of sorrow and grief, as though she had suffered some terrible heartbreak… Yang Kai broke out in goosebumps.
He had no desire to get involved, but the sound continued ceaselessly into his ears, robbing him of any ability to concentrate on his cultivation.
With a slight frown, he rose, pushed open the door, and followed the sound.
Before long, Yang Kai stood on the deck of the great ship, looking up at the topmost suite with a bewildered expression.
The woman's soft weeping was coming from the uppermost cabin — in other words, the proprietress was crying?
Yang Kai thought he must be mistaken. The proprietress was a Sixth-Order Open Heaven cultivator, a powerhouse even across the entire Three Thousand Worlds. How could she be secretly weeping like this? But the source of the sound was unmistakable — it was definitely coming from the top floor.
"Serves you right!" Yang Kai felt a rush of schadenfreude. He had no idea what had upset the proprietress, but after being tormented by her these past few days, hearing this mournful crying now was practically music to his ears, refreshing his very soul.
He stood on the deck and listened intently for a while, then clasped his hands behind his back, strode back to his quarters with the leisurely gait of a man without a care, the gloomy mood of the past several days swept clean away in an instant.
A day later, Yang Kai sat cross-legged on his bed with an irritated expression, glowering up at the ceiling and grinding his teeth. It was endless — that mad woman must have encountered something truly heartbreaking, because she had been crying for an entire day and night straight. The worst part was that with her level of cultivation, even though she was hiding away and crying to herself, her emotions imperceptibly affected those around her. Yang Kai was so disturbed that he couldn't find any peace of mind at all, and his own mood had soured to an unbearable degree.
Fuming with frustration, Yang Kai rolled off the bed.
Moments later, he stood before the proprietress's cabin and knocked. "Proprietress! Proprietress!"
No one answered from inside, but the sound of weeping had not stopped.
"I'm coming in!" Yang Kai announced, and pushed the door open without waiting.
He passed through the outer room and into the inner chamber. One glance around and his face twitched — the room, once clean and tidy, was now a complete disaster. Fruit pits littered the floor, tables and chairs had been knocked over in a heap, and the entire room reeked of alcohol.
Glancing to the side, he saw that the bamboo basket he had brought back was half empty. No prizes for guessing who had eaten the contents — otherwise there wouldn't be so many fruit pits scattered about.
He simply couldn't fathom it — the Snow-Sky-One-Line berries were bitter and astringent. How had the proprietress managed to stomach them?
Turning to look at the fragrant couch, Yang Kai frowned. In one corner, the proprietress sat curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs, her face buried in the gap between her knees, soft sobs shaking her shoulders.
This was something Yang Kai had never expected to see. In this moment, the proprietress of the First Inn looked utterly fragile — fragile as a stray, wounded kitten with nowhere to call home.
Something stirred faintly in his heart. He sighed to himself, wondering what terrible thing could have driven her to this state. In the end, she was still a woman — no matter how powerful, everyone had their vulnerable moments.
His schadenfreude faded somewhat. Yang Kai bent down and righted the overturned tables and chairs, picked up the fruit pits scattered across the floor one by one, and gathered a few empty wine jars as well.
After tidying up, he stood before the fragrant couch and pondered for a long while, uncertain of what to say. Most importantly, he had no idea what had happened to her. In the end, he could only let out a soft sigh and reach out to pat her shoulder. "Proprietress, nine out of ten things in life don't go the way we want. What's past is past — stop crying now."