Sword God Supreme

Chapter 13: The Unwelcome Guests

“Men of the Zhao Family, I presume?”

Chen Mo’s brow creased slightly, yet his expression remained unreadable, devoid of panic.

The black-robed elder’s face was a mask. “Since you recognize us, Master Chen, make this easy. Come quietly.”

“Where to?” Chen Mo’s voice was flat.

“Immortal Guest Tower.” The elder’s tone brooked no argument.

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Chen Mo’s face. Zhao Tianhua wants a rematch on the exact ground where he lost? Ambitious.

“After you.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the restaurant without a backward glance, leaving the Zhao men momentarily stunned by his unnerving cooperation.

“Eyes on him! Don’t let him slip away!” the elder hissed to his subordinates, falling in step behind the seemingly unconcerned Chen Mo.

Their vigilance was unnecessary. Chen Mo moved with the unhurried confidence of a man taking a stroll, showing no hint of fear or escape. When he finally entered the Immortal Guest Tower, the black-robed elder exchanged a grim look with his men. This Li Family outcast has steel in his spine.

Noon should have brought the roar of a packed house. Instead, an eerie silence hung over the Immortal Guest Tower. Empty tables stretched into the gloom. Behind the polished counter stood Yao Hai, the owner, a predatory gleam in his eye.

“Master Chen,” Yao Hai greeted, a smile playing on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. Pure schadenfreude. “Patriarch Zhao awaits in the Jade Orchid Room. He’s laid out quite the… welcoming feast.”

Chen Mo scanned the deserted hall. “Doesn’t worry you? This place might need repairs later.”

Yao Hai chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “This establishment has weathered stronger storms than you, boy. My concern lies elsewhere.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a stage whisper thick with mock pity. “It’s yourfuture that looks rather… terminal today.”

Chen Mo offered a cold smile. “Enjoy the show, Master Yao. Just remember, any damages come out of yourpurse.” He headed for the stairs.

Yao Hai watched him go, a frown etching deep lines on his face. Where does this arrogance come from? What card is he holding?But the opponent was Zhao Haifeng – Patriarch of the Zhao Clan, a titan of Linfeng City. Let’s see if the Li Family’s castoff crawls out of here.

The door stood open. Three figures dominated the lavish space. Zhao Tianhua sat rigidly beside his father, Zhao Haifeng. The Patriarch wore an embroidered robe that hinted at serpentine power. He was a mountain of a man, his face hard as granite, radiating an aura of absolute authority even seated. Opposite them lounged a lean man in green silk, his complexion sallow, his long sword conspicuous. He was flipping a wicked silver dagger with unnerving dexterity, the blade a blur of cold light.

The green-robed man’s eyes, sharp as the blade he toyed with, scanned Chen Mo from head to toe. A contemptuous smirk twisted his lips. This is what caused all the fuss?

“Chen Mo!” Zhao Tianhua spat the name like poison, raw hatred burning in his eyes.

“I said you’d get your chance,” Chen Mo stated calmly, stepping inside. He took a seat opposite them as if joining a casual tea gathering. His gaze flickered between Zhao Haifeng and the dagger-wielding man, cool and assessing.

Zhao Haifeng’s heavy-lidded eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise at Chen Mo’s utter lack of fear. He leaned back, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So. The former jewel of Bishui Sword Academy. Yao Hai wasn’t spinning tales. Linfeng truly underestimated you.” His voice, deep and commanding, filled the room.

Chen Mo’s finger tapped the empty, polished tabletop. “It’s past noon. If pleasantries are on the menu, shouldn’t the feast accompany them?”

Zhao Tianhua flushed crimson. Is he mocking us?

Zhao Haifeng’s chuckle deepened. “Business before pleasure, Master Chen. Settle our accounts, and I’ll ensure you leave… satisfied.” He steepled his fingers. “Zhao Haifeng. Patriarch. You humiliated my son yesterday. Right, wrong… a father protects his blood.” His gaze hardened, turning predatory.

Chen Mo nodded once. “The beaten pup whines for the pack leader. Predictable.”

Zhao Haifeng’s eyes narrowed to slits, the easy demeanor vanishing. He leaned forward, the weight of his presence pressing down. “You understand stakes. Without resolution, my son becomes the laughingstock of every teahouse in Linfeng. The man who pissed himself in terror.” He let the crude words hang, watching Chen Mo.

Beside him, Zhao Tianhua trembled, humiliation and fury warring on his face, his glare fixed on Chen Mo like a target.

“What’s your price?” Chen Mo asked, his voice flat, unaffected by the Patriarch’s aura. The pressure meant to crush lesser men washed over him like a mild breeze. Pathetic intimidation.

Zhao Haifeng studied him, the surprise returning. This wasn’t the reaction he expected. He forced a chilling smile. “An apology. A proper one.”

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’ll kneel. Here.” Zhao Haifeng gestured dismissively towards the doorway. “Then you’ll crawl. One kowtow for every step toward the street. Make them loud. I want every patron in this tower to hear your forehead hit the floor. Feel your shame.”

Zhao Tianhua’s breath hitched, a vicious grin finally breaking through.

The green-robed man stopped flipping his dagger. “Too soft, Patriarch,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper on stone. His cold eyes pinned Chen Mo. “But if mercy’s your whim…”

Zhao Haifeng waved a dismissive hand. “Youthful squabbles rarely require… final solutions.” He turned his pitiless gaze back to Chen Mo. “Outside, you’ll kneel again. And you’ll start slapping your own face. Hard. Each slap must echo down the street. Keep going…” he drummed his fingers slowly on the table, “…until the crowd gets bored. Then you can crawl away.”

Zhao Tianhua practically vibrated with anticipation. Yes!

The green-robed man stood, his dagger held loosely at his side. The air crackled with menace. “The Patriarch is generous. So? Will you kneel yourself? Or shall I assist?” The threat hung heavy in the suddenly suffocating room.

Chen Mo met their stares, his expression unchanged, almost bored. “I expected killers. All I see are cheap theatrics. Is this the best the mighty Zhaos can muster?”

Zhao Tianhua gaped. Zhao Haifeng’s smile vanished, replaced by icy fury. The green-robed man’s knuckles whitened on his dagger’s hilt. He took a step forward, murder in his eyes.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Heavy boots hammered up the stairs. A booming voice, thick with command, cut through the tension before its owner filled the doorway.

“Zhao Haifeng! Stand down! Let the boy walk out. Now.”

Jiang Beishan, Commander of the City Guard, stood framed in the light. His bearded jaw was set, eyes blazing. His presence was a physical force.

“Jiang Beishan?” Zhao Haifeng’s voice dripped icy disdain. “Since when does the City Guard Commander play nursemaid to a disgraced son-in-law?”

Jiang Feng’s father,Chen Mo realized. The debt is called in.

Jiang Beishan stepped into the room, ignoring the others, his focus on Zhao Haifeng. “My boy was threatened by yourwhelp yesterday. Chen Mo stepped in. A debt is owed. I pay my debts.” His voice was iron.

Zhao Haifeng’s cold gaze shifted to his son. Zhao Tianhua flinched. “It was just words, Father! A jest! Nothing more!”

“You heard him, Commander,” Zhao Haifeng stated flatly. “No harm done to your boy. But mine?” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “He was shamed. Publicly. If I let this pass, the Zhaos become the joke. Not him.” He locked eyes with Jiang Beishan. “Not even Li Changming himself could shield this insolent cur today. Back. Off.”

The finality was absolute. Jiang Beishan’s face darkened, the public rebuke a stinging blow. His fists clenched at his sides.

Chen Mo watched, an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I didn’t ask for this.But Jiang Beishan had stepped into the fire for him. He couldn’t let the insult stand unchallenged. He started to rise.

Click. Click. Click.

Faster, lighter footsteps – polished boots on wood – echoed urgently from the stairs. Everyone turned. Zhao Haifeng’s expression tightened with pure irritation. Who dares interrupt now?

A figure appeared at the threshold. A scholar, robes impeccable, beard neatly trimmed, but his face was pale, forehead sheened with sweat from haste. His eyes darted around the tense room, locking onto Chen Mo. A visible wave of relief washed over him.

Ignoring the formidable gathering, he strode straight to Chen Mo, ignoring Zhao Haifeng’s thunderous expression. He executed a precise, formal bow, his voice taut with concern.

“Master Chen! Thank the heavens! Are you unharmed?”