Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
97. The Resting Phoenix Pagoda

Jin Shu was tall. The only people he had ever met who stood taller than him were his father and grandfather.

Until now.

He looked up. And then up further.

His neck craned so far back that he nearly lost his balance.

The person in front of him was massive.

She towered over him like a walking fortress, her frame thick with muscle, each limb like a pillar of stone. She wasn’t just tall—she was imposing. A living city wall of raw strength.

Yet, despite her sheer size, she wasn’t unattractive. She had strong, well-defined features, but compared to the women standing at Jin Shu’s side, she lacked the same refined beauty.

Curious, Jin Shu turned to Tian Li, wanting to see her reaction.

Her expression was as if she had just swallowed a fly.

“Tsk!” She clicked her tongue. “What do you want, Ling Shi?”

Jin Shu frowned. That’s new. He had never heard Tian Li sound so annoyed before.

The giant woman—Ling Shi, as Tian Li had called her—shifted awkwardly. She lowered her gaze, suddenly looking uncertain.

“I… I heard you had some trouble…” she mumbled. “And… and I was w-worried about you…”

She shuffled her feet like an embarrassed child. “A-are you o-okay…?”

“I’m fine,” Tian Li said flatly. “No need for you to worry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to eat.”

With that, she spun on her heel and marched off without another glance.

Jin Shu blinked, glancing between the two women.

Ling Shi stood in place, watching Tian Li’s retreating figure with an expression of quiet hurt. Then her eyes flicked to Jin Shu.

She scowled.

Jin Shu raised a brow but said nothing.

Biyu tugged his sleeve. “Let’s go. She’ll explain if she feels like it.”

“Ah… sure.”

As they walked, Jin Shu cast one last glance over his shoulder.

Ling Shi remained where she was, staring after them, her massive form motionless.

But that brief flicker of sadness in Ling Shi’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

Neither did the scowl she had given him.

Jin Shu caught up to Tian Li, glancing down at her.

She wore a perfectly neutral expression, her emotions hidden behind a straight face.

A stirring in her arms drew his attention.

Yin’er’s small nose twitched, her half-lidded eyes cracking open.

Despite loudly announcing her hunger earlier, she had immediately fallen back asleep. Now, however, the scent of delicious food had finally roused her.

Gurgle.

Her stomach rumbled again.

She blinked blearily, glanced left, then right. Her eyes landed on Jin Shu, then drifted back to Tian Li.

“…Why are you carrying me?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Do you not want me to?”

Yin’er yawned, shaking her head.

“No… comfy.”

With that, she turned over and buried her face against Tian Li’s chest, wrapping her small arms around her.

Tian Li froze.

Then she started trembling.

An excited smile spread across her lips.

Her entire demeanor shifted—her mood brightened, a spring entered her step, and she practically skipped ahead.

Jin Shu shook his head, amused, and followed her into what he assumed was a restaurant.

Yet, his instincts told him otherwise.

This place wasn’t just a restaurant.

It was the focal point of the grand city-wide formation.

As they stepped inside, Jin Shu took in the vibrant atmosphere.

The air buzzed with chatter and the clinking of dishes. Mouthwatering aromas filled the space, rich and complex.

The architecture was intricate, each carving and painting expertly crafted. But something stood out.

Unlike the soaring phoenix motifs prevalent throughout the sect, the imagery here was different.

Every carving, every painting depicted sleeping phoenixes.

“Welcome to Resting Phoenix Pagoda!” A smiling hostess greeted them from behind a polished wooden podium.

“How many will we be seating today?”

“We’ll take a private room,” Tian Li said cheerfully, still glowing from Yin’er’s hug.

“Would you like a room on the second or third level?”

“Third.”

“Excellent! Please wait one moment.”

She reached for a small brass bell on the podium and gave it a delicate ring.

Ting, ting, ting!

The sound was soft, yet it carried through the entire room, cutting effortlessly through the lively chatter.

A moment later, another young woman emerged from a side room.

She approached swiftly, stopping before them with a graceful bow.

“This one is Ying,” the hostess said, keeping her head lowered. “May I lead the esteemed guests to their room?”

Tian Li frowned slightly, tilting her head.

“…Sure,” she answered, though hesitation laced her voice.

The hostess named Ying turned, still avoiding eye contact, and began leading them toward a set of stairs at the far end of the dining area.

Yet, Tian Li remained rooted in place, frown deepening.

Jin Shu caught the hesitation. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, though her expression remained uncertain.

“No… It’s just that I’ve never seen this girl here before. And she’s being overly polite.” Her brows knit together. “But… she’s probably just new.”

“Hm… if you say so.”

Though Tian Li dismissed it, Jin Shu kept a careful eye on the hostess as they followed her.

Ying was beautiful—but then, everyone in this sect was.

Her uniform matched the other hostesses perfectly: a pristine white hanfu embroidered with a resting phoenix on the back.

Yet something about her stood out.

It wasn’t just her excessive politeness—it was how she moved.

She carried herself with the precision of someone deliberately suppressing their presence, as if she didn’t want to be noticed. Her head remained bowed, eyes fixed on the floor, never once daring a glance in their direction.

It wasn’t unusual behavior—Jin Shu had grown up around servants, after all—but it was… practiced. Too refined, too intentional.

They ascended to the second floor, passing through another dining area. This one was quieter, with fewer guests and several private rooms lining the walls.

He noticed subtle shifts in the atmosphere. Patrons cast them lingering glances—some fleeting, others lingering a second too long.

Yet, no one spoke. No one interrupted.

They continued upward.

The third floor was entirely different.

No open dining space, no scattered tables—only a long, quiet hallway lined with private rooms.

Ying led them to the very last door at the end of the corridor.

“This is your room.”

She slid the door open, stepping aside with another deep bow. Her gaze remained firmly on the floor.

Not once had she looked at them.

“Um… Thank you,” Tian Li said, her voice carrying the same hesitation from before.

She stepped inside first.

Jin Shu followed, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he cast one last glance at the silent hostess before stepping across the threshold.

The long table was already covered with an assortment of dishes, enough to feed a small banquet.

Jin Shu raised an eyebrow. “Do they prepare all of this ahead of time? Don’t we get to order anything?”

“This is just an appetizer,” Biyu said, stepping into the room behind him.

Just an appetizer? He was about to question that when—

“Food!”

A delighted squeal rang out.

Before he could react, Yin’er launched herself from Tian Li’s arms, wings flapping as she shot across the room in a blur.

She landed directly on the table, tiny hands grabbing anything within reach. In the blink of an eye, she was shoveling handfuls of rice, wontons, and other delicacies into her mouth.

“Yin’er! Get off the table!” Jin Shu reprimanded, striding forward to pluck her from the feast.

She barely acknowledged him, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she happily munched away.

“Yummy!” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.

He sighed, settling her into his lap. “Don’t talk with your mouth full—it’s bad manners.”

A thought struck him.

“…Has anyone ever taught you table manners?”

Yin’er blinked up at him and swallowed. “Nuh-uh.”

Jin Shu rubbed his forehead. “That’s my fault I'm sure. Well, you’re going to learn now.”

He adjusted her in his lap, ready to begin her first lesson in proper etiquette.

When he looked up, the others were watching with barely concealed amusement.

“What?” he asked, blinking.

“You really look like a father now,” Biyu teased with a laugh.

Li Xue giggled. “I think you mean a mother.”

Biyu nodded in agreement. “Oh, you’re right.”

Meanwhile, Tian Li stood to the side with a deeply aggrieved expression. “My Yin’er…” she mumbled.

Jin Shu exhaled, shaking his head at their antics. “Enough of that. Come sit down.” He waved them over.

Tian Li, though clearly sulking, was the first to move, swiftly claiming the seat to his right.

Then, Biyu and Li Xue moved at the same time.

But before Biyu could reach the chair on his left—

Li Xue cheated.

She leaped over the table in a single bound, landing with a graceful spin before plopping into the seat with a victorious grin.

Jin Shu stared. “Why…?”

“To win!” Li Xue declared, striking a dramatic pose and flashing a peace sign.

Jin Shu sighed in exasperation, turning back to Yin’er.

“Now that you have a human form, you need to know how to act properly. Mom and Aunt Chen have already been teaching you the basics, and now it’s time for another lesson.”

Yin’er’s ears twitched in protest, but he ignored it and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the table.

“These are chopsticks. They’re used for eating.” He reached across the table, pinched a small wonton between the sticks, and lifted it. “See? This is how they work.”

Yin’er pouted. “Why can’t I just use my hands?”

“If you want to stay in this form, you need to follow the rules,” he stated firmly.

She blinked, clearly weighing her options. Then, with all the determination of a child avoiding homework, she huffed, “Then… I’ll just go back!”

Jin Shu raised an eyebrow. “If you do that, you won’t be able to sit on my lap anymore.”

She froze.

Then turned away with an angry little pout.

“…Hmph! I don’t like Mommy. I want Daddy back.”

He sighed. “I’m not—” He stopped himself before getting dragged into the argument. “Haa… whatever. Let’s just try it, okay? It’s not hard. Actually, it’s pretty fun once you get the hang of it.”

She remained skeptical, but he gently guided her hand, placing the chopsticks in her small fingers.

“There. Hold them like this.”

Yin’er held them loosely at first, experimentally tapping the tips together.

“Yes, just like that. Now, move them like this.”

She copied his motions, silent but still pouting slightly.

“Alright, now try grabbing something.”

Yin’er eyed a slice of fruit. Slowly, carefully, she reached out and attempted to pick it up. The slippery piece slid right out of her grasp.

Her brow furrowed.

Jin Shu watched as she stubbornly tried again—this time, her grip steadier.

A moment later, the fruit was pinched securely between the chopsticks.

She gasped.

“Oh! I did it!” She turned excitedly, holding up the fruit as if it were a treasure. Her radiant smile could’ve lit up the entire room.

Jin Shu chuckled, reaching up to ruffle her hair. “Good job.”