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

The massive iron-wood gates of the Imperial Capital loomed overhead like the colossal jaws of an ancient celestial beast, their towering white jade pillars vanishing straight into the drifting sea of clouds above. As the expedition trade wagon and the plush lead carriage rolled smoothly past the checkpoint, Lin Fan pushed open his window shutter and stared out with a gaze of profound, jaw-dropping astonishment.

The Imperial Capital was not merely a city; it was an entire cosmic ecosystem carved into stone, gold, and starlight.

Unlike Qingshui Town, where rustic charm and quiet streets defined the horizon, the capital vibrated with an overwhelming, ceaseless pulse of raw energy. Sleek, spirit-powered carriages glided silently through the wide, polished avenues without horses, propelled by embedded propulsion arrays. Massive multi-story restaurants occupied entire city blocks, their upper balconies adorned with glowing, illuminated jade tablets that flashed brilliant, revolving menus written in shimmering golden calligraphy. Wandering street vendors traded exotic ingredients Lin Fan had never laid eyes on—glowing frost-lotus roots, sun-fire peppers, and translucent spirit-fish swimming in floating spheres of water.

”By the heavens...” Lin Fan muttered, shaking his head as he watched a group of high-tier cultivators soar past on glowing lotus platforms. ”This place makes our lower market district look like a sandbox.”

Xiao Ling and tiny Xiao Mei pressed their faces against the carriage glass, their eyes sparkling like polished gems as they took in the towering pagodas and dazzling light displays. Even Sect Master Lu looked entirely spellbound, his eyes locked onto a distant, twelve-story culinary pavilion that possessed no less than six separate chimney exhaust systems.

However, the magnificent wonder of the capital quickly encountered a harsh, undeniable reality when they reached the inner district’s administrative toll gate.

An imperial guard clad in gleaming silver plate armor stepped forward, holding out his hand with practiced boredom. ”Entry registration and carriage transit tax for non-registered commercial caravans: twenty mid-grade spirit stones.”

Lin Fan froze, slowly leaning out of the window. ”Twenty... mid-grade spirit stones? For a single carriage entering the commercial district?!”

”Standard imperial tariff,” the guard replied flatly, tapping his spear against the stone pavement. ”Prices are non-negotiable.”

Lin Fan instantly began calculating in his head. Twenty mid-grade spirit stones could buy roughly two hundred bowls of Golden Egg Fried Rice, purchase forty sacks of high-grade wheat flour from Old Man Zhang, or fund the inn’s entire utility budget for a week. To an imperial tax collector, it was pocket change; to a practical innkeeper, it felt like daylight robbery.

Beside the lead carriage, Crimson walked silently in his dark robes, his red eyes narrowing as he observed the gatekeeper collecting the coins.

Without changing his tone or blinking, Crimson leaned slightly toward Lin Fan’s window. ”Master, shall I remove the gatekeeper?”

Lin Fan nearly choked on his saliva. He shot a frantic, horrified look at his security chief, waving his hands violently. ”No! Absolutely not, Crimson! Please don’t! We have been inside the capital for less than ten minutes! Can we please not turn our very first diplomatic visit into a high-profile criminal homicide investigation?!”

Crimson blinked slowly, appearing slightly disappointed. ”Understood. The gatekeeper’s structural integrity shall remain uncompromised for the time being.”

With a heavy sigh, Lin Fan handed over the required spirit stones, and the carriages were finally permitted to enter the inner commercial sector.

Their first official destination was the Imperial Hospitality Bureau—a massive, sprawling marble palace where all participating establishments for the Great Culinary and Hospitality Festival were required to register, submit their credentials, and receive their designated competition pavilions.

Inside the grand registration hall, hundreds of chefs, innkeepers, and sect culinary elders were bustling about under the supervision of imperial officials. Lin Fan walked up to the mahogany registration desk, presenting the golden-sealed travel pass provided by the imperial messenger back in Qingshui Town.

An elderly, stiff-necked imperial official took the parchment, scanned it with half-closed eyes, and let out a dry, dismissive cough. ”Lin’s Inn... Qingshui Province. A provincial establishment specializing in regional comfort food and basic tea service.”

”That’s us,” Lin Fan nodded politely. ”We’re here to register for the festival.”

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The official stamped the document with a heavy iron seal, handing back a small copper identification badge without looking up. ”Very well. The Great Culinary and Hospitality Festival is divided into three rigorous disciplines: Culinary Craft, which evaluates taste, technique, and ingredient creativity; the Hospitality Trial, which tests service speed, floor consistency, and customer management; and the Imperial Banquet, a grand public service trial where finalists must cater to a massive assembly of high-ranking nobles and court judges.”

The official pointed a lazy finger toward a dim, distant corridor on the map behind him. ”Your registration has been processed. Your allocated cooking pavilion is Secondary Sector, Building Four.”

Xiao Yu stepped forward, frowning slightly as he checked his notes. ”Excuse me, official, but according to the imperial proclamation, shouldn’t participants with direct royal invitations be assigned to the primary sector near the grand plaza?”

The official snorted, adjusting his scholar’s cap. ”Direct royal invitations are granted to hundreds of applicants, young man. Primary sector pavilions are reserved for established capital dynasties, royal-backed dining halls, and prestigious sect kitchens. A small provincial inn from a remote mountain town belongs in the secondary sector. Be grateful you were not relegated to the outer street stalls.”

Lin Fan gently placed a hand on Xiao Yu’s shoulder, stopping his head server from arguing further. Lin Fan looked at the copper badge with a calm, unimpressed smile.

”Secondary sector is fine,” Lin Fan said smoothly. ”Thank you, official.”

As they turned away, Lin Fan didn’t feel angry in the slightest. In his mind, corporate snobbery was just background noise. Let the royal-backed restaurants waste millions of spirit stones renting flashy primary pavilions decorated with gold and jade. At the end of the day, a kitchen was judged by its woks, its ingredients, and the food on the plate. Besides, saving capital on registration overhead meant more budget for high-quality spices.

As they walked down the marble corridor toward the exit, a crisp, elegant voice suddenly rang out from behind them.

”An innkeeper who accepts a secondary sector assignment without complaint... How refreshingly humble, or perhaps simply realistic.”

Lin Fan stopped and turned around.

Standing near one of the grand marble pillars was a young woman dressed in pristine white-and-crimson robes embroidered with a majestic jade phoenix emblem. Her dark hair was tied back with a silver hairpin, and her posture was immaculate, radiating the disciplined, unyielding confidence of a master artisan.

She wasn’t glaring at them with cartoonish villainous malice; rather, her gaze was analytical, cool, and quietly critical.

”You must be the provincial newcomers from Qingshui Town,” the young woman said, stepping closer with a light, measured stride. ”Word has reached the capital about an eccentric inn that caused a stir among the sword sects. Many in the bureau claim you possess divine culinary talent. Personally, I believe your success is merely the result of stumbling upon some rare, local mountain ingredient that unrefined cultivators had never tasted before.”

Lin Fan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his white apron. He looked her up and down, noting the fine robes and the crest. ”Is that so? And who you might be...?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. ”I don’t believe we’ve exchanged business cards.”

The young woman’s chin lifted with quiet pride. ”I am Shen Yuelan, head chef and proud successor of the Jade Phoenix Pavilion—one of the capital’s top three culinary institutions.”

”Ah, Chef Shen,” Lin Fan nodded lightly. ”And what makes you think our success is just a lucky ingredient fluke?”

”Because true culinary mastery requires decades of rigorous knife technique, precise fire control, and profound spiritual alignment—not mere novelty. However, since you are here, let us test your foundation.”

From a small, insulated jade box carried by her apprentice, she produced a single, perfectly sliced portion of Lin Fan’s famous slow-braised beast meat, which her scouts had apparently acquired and preserved during its journey from the provincial sects. She picked up a pair of polished silver chopsticks, took a tiny, deliberate bite, and closed her eyes to analyze the flavor profile.

For three seconds, absolute silence hung in the air.

Shen Yuelan’s eyes snapped open. The calm, composed expression on her face flickered with a sudden, subtle flash of genuine shock. The balance of savory richness, the tender breakdown of muscle fibers, and the clean, lingering herbal aftertaste were far more sophisticated than anything produced by standard capital kitchens.

She took a second, slightly larger bite, chewed slowly, and then carefully set the silver chopsticks down onto the jade plate.

She looked at Lin Fan, her tone carrying a grudging, highly professional acknowledgment. ”Your seasoning is unusual. The heat control and spice integration show... unexpected competence. But do not flatter yourself.” She turned her head slightly, her chin lifting with pride. ”A single exceptional dish does not make a successful restaurant.”

Lin Fan smiled—a calm, easygoing corporate smile that completely threw her off balance.

”That’s very true, Chef Shen,” Lin Fan replied smoothly. ”A restaurant also needs stable tables, comfortable chairs, clean porcelain dishes, and people actually willing to wash them at the end of the night.”

Shen Yuelan blinked, her analytical mind momentarily stalling as she tried to parse whether the provincial innkeeper was offering profound philosophical wisdom or simply mocking her.

”We shall see how your philosophy holds up when the festival begins,” Shen Yuelan said coolly, turning on her heel and sweeping down the marble corridor with her apprentices trailing close behind.

Lin Fan watched her go, chuckling softly as he turned back to his team. ”Well, she’s certainly dedicated. Now, let’s go find our assigned secondary pavilion, set up our mobile hearths, and show this city how an honest inn operates.”

With Xiao Yu holding the map and Crimson leading the way, the expedition team stepped out of the Bureau into the bustling, glittering streets of the Imperial Capital, ready to claim their place in the greatest culinary battle of the realm.