6: Chapter 6 The Teahouse Owner is No Ordinary Person

The moment Chen Fan's feet touched the ground, cold sweat slid down the back of his neck and into his collar.

The dizziness from the dungeon teleportation had not yet faded. He instinctively half-crouched to absorb the impact, and when he looked up, he was met by the pale gray light of the sky.

The rain had just stopped. The bluestone slabs gleamed coldly, and the air still carried the damp scent of rust—the lingering aura of the dungeon's furnace, mixed with a wisp of tea fragrance drifting from afar. It clung to his nostrils like a waterlogged rag.

"Brother!"

A soft cry laced with sobbing shot out from the alley entrance.

Chen Fan snapped his head up, seeing Xiao Lin rush over from the corner like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

The knees of the kid's work pants were still smeared with the black grime from the dungeon. In his hand, he clutched a crumpled piece of paper, his fingernails nearly digging into his palm.

"I... I know you're being targeted..." Xiao Lin's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as his eyes darted nervously. "Brother Dao is gathering people, saying he needs to 'cleanse unstable elements.'" He shoved the paper into Chen Fan's hand, his fingertips trembling like a sieve. "Don't ask me how I know... Please don't say I told you!"

Before the words faded, Xiao Lin had already spun around and fled into the alley.

His rubber-soled shoes slipped on the bluestone, knocking over a woven bamboo fish basket. A few dead fish plopped onto the ground.

Chen Fan gripped the paper, watching the wretched figure disappear into the shadows at the base of the wall. He suddenly recalled the dagger this kid had hidden behind his back when the dungeon's furnace finally extinguished—it turned out he hadn't intended to stab him, but rather to...

The lantern of the Frost Moon Teahouse swayed slightly at that moment.

The crimson tassels swept across the faded gold characters on the lintel, and Chen Fan finally noticed the old house at the street corner.

The wooden door was half-open. The half-fox tail flower embroidered on the curtain was lifted by the wind, revealing the indistinct shapes of tea tables inside.

The system notification sound remained silent by his ear—this was the first time since entering the game that he had stepped into an area without any mission prompts.

"Young master, your killing intent is quite heavy."

The voice drifted over, soft as tea leaves steeped in warm water.

Chen Fan looked up and saw a woman leaning against the counter, dressed in a moon-white qipao.

She wore an emerald hairpin in her hair, and the tip of her bamboo whisk was still stained with tea foam. The corners of her eyes were slightly upturned, and when she smiled, it was as if crushed moonlight was scattered across her face.

"Why don't you have a cup of calming tea?" She tilted her head, swirling the whisk in the teacup to create a small vortex. "It’s free."

Chen Fan's hand rested on the iron piece hidden in his sleeve.

It was a weapon picked up in the dungeon, its edges still serrated, digging painfully into his palm.

He stared at the empty tea tables behind the woman—logically, players should be flooding in by now, but the entire Teahouse was so quiet he could hear the faint clinking of the whisk against the cup.

"I don't drink." He took a step to leave, but the system didn't even give a single 'ding.'

This was wrong.

The back of Chen Fan's neck tightened again.

He stopped at the threshold, watching the woman pull out a white porcelain cup from under the counter.

The amber tea soup sloshed in the cup, reflecting the silver bracelet on her wrist, resembling a piece of unbreakable honey.

"You killed the Zombie King and broke the Furnace Guardian." She pushed the cup toward him. The tea mist wrapped around her words and floated to Chen Fan's nose. "Among all the novices on the server, the only one who could trigger two hidden appraisals simultaneously... is you."

Chen Fan's fingers pressed red marks into the iron piece.

He didn't take the cup. Instead, he took half a step forward: "How do you know?"

"Why don't you guess, young master?" She smiled and tapped lightly on the counter surface with her fingertip.

The [Flame Patterned Arm Guards] in Chen Fan's sleeve suddenly grew hot.

That was a blue-grade drop from the dungeon BOSS. The system had previously stated, 'Attribute binding, viewing restricted.' Yet, under the faint glow of the woman's fingertip, it now radiated a faint rosy hue—like a bride whose veil had just been lifted, causing the embroidered flame patterns to blush with shyness.

His breathing suddenly grew heavy. Could this woman see the true quality of the system equipment?

"Don't be nervous." Her voice suddenly turned cold, and the tea whisk snapped in her palm with a 'crack.' "Every time you strike, the system judgment is denser than normal... Too frequent critical hits will attract 'Them.'"

Chen Fan's temples throbbed.

Old Horse Head's dying whisper while clutching his wrist, Ah Gui's words in the corner of the dungeon about the 'system selecting people,' Brother Dao's sudden mobilization... These fragments exploded in his mind.

His hand tightened and loosened on the iron piece: "Who are 'They'?"

"It's too early to say now." She traced the corner of her eye, and a faint golden-red light flashed across it like a shooting star. "Take this."

The carved wooden box landed on the table with a 'thud.'

The lid was engraved with entwined lotus patterns, and it felt warm to the touch, as if it had just been taken from someone's embrace.

Just as Chen Fan was about to speak, he heard hurried footsteps outside the door—not the frantic running of Xiao Lin, but deliberate, suppressed, rhythmic steps.

"Go quickly," she suddenly pushed his back with surprising force. "They are almost here."

As Chen Fan rushed out of the Teahouse, the lantern behind him suddenly went out with a 'snap.'

Half the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds, casting a cold, pale glow on the bluestone slabs.

In the shadows at the end of the street, five figures were slowly closing in.

Brother Dao walked at the forefront, his steel pipe reflecting a cold glint. The equipment on the four subordinates behind him shimmered grayish-blue in the darkness—all were Bronze-tier white equipment, yet each clutched a weapon, knuckles turning white.

"Chen Fan!" Brother Dao's voice was like a dull blade. "No one can save you today!"

Chen Fan's hand, reaching for the iron piece, froze.

He looked down at the heating guard in his sleeve, then thought of the untouched tea in the Teahouse.

The system notification suddenly blared in his ear: [Non-mission player attack intent detected, combat judgment triggered.]

"Come on then." He spun the iron piece between his fingers. The flame pattern on the blue-grade guard glowed red in the dark. "My critical hits... are just looking for someone to test the blade on."

A soft creak came from the wooden window behind him as it opened slightly.

Chen Fan caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision of the shadow of the moon-white qipao flickering in the window lattice on the second floor of the Teahouse.

The woman's whisper drifted over, carried by the wind, as light as a snowflake landing on his shoulder: "Chen Fan... you truly are the 'Child of Destiny.'"

In the shadows at the end of the street, Brother Dao's steel pipe had already swung halfway up.

Chen Fan flexed his wrist, listening to the system's countdown prompt in his ear, and suddenly laughed—this time, he wanted to see if the so-called 'Them' could actually block his critical hits.