I'm Just an Innkeeper, Why Are You All Kneeling?

The newly mounted sign of LIN’S INN glistened in the morning sun, casting a warm golden reflection across the bustling stone street of the lower market district. Inside, Lin Fan stood behind the main wooden counter with a piece of chalk, carefully writing down the official prices on a large slate menu board.

To Lin Fan, pricing was simple arithmetic. Since Crimson had procured an absurd mountain of high-grade ingredients directly from the wild wilderness at zero acquisition cost, Lin Fan’s only real expenses were the System shop’s initial equipment investments and basic utilities. He wanted to make a healthy profit, but he had no intention of gouging his patrons. In his mind, keeping prices reasonable was the golden rule of long-term customer retention.

With a satisfied smile, he wrote out the prices in clean, legible numbers:

Golden Egg Fried Rice: 3 Low-grade Spirit Stones

Slow-Braised Beast Meat: 5 Low-grade Spirit Stones

Hearty Wild Vegetable Soup: 2 Low-grade Spirit Stones

Fresh Hearth Bread: 1 Low-grade Spirit Stone

Full Combination Meal Set: 8 Low-grade Spirit Stones

Sect Master Lu, who was walking past the counter while carrying a heavy wooden tray of freshly shaped dough, paused to look at the board. The old former sect leader blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

”Shopkeeper...” Lu whispered, his voice trembling slightly. ”Are these prices... correct? Eight low-grade spirit stones for a complete set containing braised Saint-grade Tyrant Bull meat, spiritual egg fried rice, hearth bread, and marrow soup?”

”Of course,” Lin Fan said, capping his chalk and looking pleased with himself. ”Eight low-grade spirit stones gives us a massive profit margin since our ingredient overhead is practically zero. It’s a fair price for a good lunch.”

Lu stared at Lin Fan as if the shopkeeper had suddenly grown a second head. ”Fair? Shopkeeper, out in the high-tier commercial pavilions of the upper city, a single thin slice of low-grade spirit beast meat costs at least thirty mid-grade spirit stones! You are serving refined Saint-level beast meat for eight low-grade stones! This isn’t fair pricing... this is practically a spiritual charitable donation!”

”Nonsense,” Lin Fan replied casually, waving his hand. ”High prices scare off regular customers. Reasonable prices build volume. Trust me, Lu, volume is where the real money is.”

Lin Fan had no idea what kind of floodgate he had just kicked open.

An hour later, the front doors of Lin’s Inn opened for the lunch rush. The first customer to step inside was an outer elder from the nearby Azure Cloud Sect. He was a stern, middle-aged cultivator who had come purely out of curiosity after hearing rumors of the new menu.

”Give me this ’Full Combination Meal Set,’” the elder said gruffly, slapping eight low-grade spirit stones onto the wooden counter. He sat down at a window table, fully expecting a tiny, skimpy portion of watered-down broth and tough, gamey meat.

Three minutes later, Xiao Yu arrived at his table, carrying a massive wooden platter laden with a steaming bowl of dark, glossy braised meat, a mountain of fragrant golden fried rice, a bowl of rich, aromatic soup, and a thick slice of warm, golden hearth bread.

The elder took a single bite of the braised meat.

The tender meat dissolved on his tongue, releasing a flood of clean, savory juices that washed over his meridians like warm sunlight, instantly soothing his tired spiritual veins without a trace of violent rage-qi. He took a bite of the fried rice, then a sip of the soup, and finally a piece of Lu’s golden bread.

By the time he finished the plate, his eyes were wide with utter, unadulterated shock. He picked up his empty bowl, looked at the empty platter, and then looked down at his receipt.

”Eight... low-grade spirit stones?” the elder muttered, his jaw trembling. ”A meal that cleanses spiritual impurities and restores physical stamina... for the price of a cheap iron dagger?”

He didn’t even wipe his mouth. He leaped out of his chair, threw two extra spirit stones onto the table as a tip, and bolted out the front door like a man fleeing a divine tribulation.

Ten minutes later, he returned.

He did not return alone. Behind him was his entire outer disciple squad, three senior sect brothers, two spiritual elders from the inner hall, and a local merchant guild master he had bumped into on the street.

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”In here!” the elder shouted, pointing wildly toward the doorway of Lin’s Inn. ”I told you I wasn’t lying! Eight low-grade spirit stones for a full feast of Saint-grade meat! Eat before the shopkeeper realizes he made a clerical error!”

Word spread through the market district faster than a wild fire ignited by a fire-element cultivator.

In the world of cultivation, martial artists fought to the death over spirit herbs, risked their lives in dangerous ancient ruins, and hoarded spirit stones with extreme greed. To them, finding high-grade, energy-rich spiritual food priced lower than standard mortal street food was not just a good deal—it was an unprecedented, once-in-a-lifetime economic miracle.

By mid-afternoon, the street outside Lin’s Inn had completely transformed into a sea of surging people.

Cultivators from three different local sects were packed shoulder-to-shoulder on the stone pavement. Merchant caravans halted their wagons right in front of the shop, blocking traffic. Wandering rogue cultivators, local guards, and townspeople squeezed together, all trying to press their way toward the entrance.

Inside the dining hall, the atmosphere had escalated from a busy lunch rush to pure, unmitigated business chaos.

”Table four needs three more portions of braised meat!” Xiao Yu shouted over the din, his legs moving so fast across the wooden floorboards his body left faint afterimages. ”Table seven wants four bowls of egg fried rice! Table nine is asking if they can buy an entire loaf of hearth bread to take home!”

Xiao Ling’s hands were a blur at the drink station, pouring steaming streams of tea into endless rows of porcelain cups without spilling a single drop. ”Teapots five and six are empty! I need more hot water!”

Tiny Xiao Mei scurried through the crowded room like a little mouse, carrying wicker baskets of warm bread stacked so high they completely blocked her line of sight. ”Hot bread coming through! Please watch your robes, honored immortals!”

A grumpy sword cultivator tried to stand up and shout because his order was taking longer than expected, but before he could raise his voice, Scartail appeared beside his chair, holding a heavy iron frying pan like a war hammer.

”Sit down and wait your turn, pal,” Scartail grunted, his single eye narrowing threateningly. ”The shopkeeper is cooking as fast as he can. You complain again, and I’ll personally throw you out into the alley.”

The cultivator looked at Scartail’s scarred face, then at the heavy iron pan, and immediately sat back down, quietly folding his hands in his lap.

In the kitchen, the situation was borderline frantic.

Lin Fan stood before the roaring hearth, operating two massive cast-iron woks simultaneously. His arms were a constant blur of motion, flicking wrists to send golden waves of fried rice soaring through the air while tossing garlic greens into searing oil. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he shouted orders over the deafening sizzle of hot pans.

”Lu! I need fifty more steamed buns and five loaves of bread immediately!” Lin Fan called out, flipping a giant portion of braised meat into a waiting serving bowl.

”I am baking at maximum capacity, Shopkeeper!” Sect Master Lu yelled back from the oven station, his hands covered in flour as he channeled controlled bursts of fire-element qi into the brick hearth to speed up the baking process. ”My flour reserves are holding, but the dough cannot rise fast enough! These people are eating bread like locusts descending upon a wheat field!”

At the rear entrance of the kitchen, Crimson stood like an immovable iron statue, blocking a crowd of overly enthusiastic cultivators who were attempting to climb through the back windows just to place their orders directly with the chef.

Crimson raised a single finger, a faint, terrifying pulse of suppressed demonic aura surging through the air.

”The kitchen is a restricted operational zone,” Crimson stated, his voice flat, icy, and completely devoid of emotion. ”Infringe upon this boundary again, and your limbs shall be repurposed as firewood for the hearth.”

The crowd of cultivators instantly backed away ten paces, bowing profusely in terror before scurrying back toward the main entrance queue.

By late evening, the sun had set below the horizon, casting deep purple shadows across the city. Yet, the crowd outside Lin’s Inn had not shrunk at all. If anything, it had grown larger as cultivators returning from night hunts joined the massive gathering.

Lin Fan leaned back against the kitchen preparation counter, completely exhausted. His apron was stained with soy sauce and oil, his arms were sore from tossing heavy iron woks for eight hours straight, and his breath came in heavy heaves.

Xiao Yu pushed open the kitchen doors, looking equally worn out, though his eyes were wide with sheer disbelief.

”Shopkeeper...” Xiao Yu gasped, holding a thick leather pouch that was bursting at the seams with low-grade spirit stones. ”We’ve completely run out of clean bowls. Table twelve just offered to pay double if we let them eat their fried rice directly out of a serving tray... and there are still over one hundred people standing in the street outside!”

Lin Fan stared at the bulging pouch of spirit stones, then looked out through the serving window at the chaotic, packed dining hall.

He had wanted volume. He had wanted steady customer growth. But this wasn’t growth—this was a full-blown operational crisis. His staff was working themselves to the bone, his kitchen was running at absolute maximum output, and customers were practically fighting over wooden chairs in the dining room.

Lin Fan rubbed his temples, letting out a long, weary sigh as a sudden, profound realization hit him.

In his pursuit of fair pricing and excellent food, he hadn’t just solved his customer acquisition problem—he had created an entirely new, massive bottleneck. His inn didn’t just need more tables or faster cooks. It needed order, limits, and a structured queue.

Lin Fan looked up at Xiao Yu, his eyes narrowing with newfound business determination.

”Xiao Yu,” Lin Fan said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his towel. ”Starting tomorrow morning, we are implementing a brand-new policy.”

Xiao Yu blinked. ”A new policy, Shopkeeper?”

”Yes,” Lin Fan declared firmly. ”No more chaotic walk-ins for large groups. No more sitting at tables for three hours just to chat after finishing a bowl of soup. Tomorrow, Lin’s Inn introduces the Reservation System and Daily Meat Quotas.”