Having now experienced the feeling of a meat bun being thrown into the river, Qin Feng wouldn’t be foolish enough to keep accompanying Qingya through her recovery. You’re certainly beautiful, and you’re also my superior—yet you’re not my girlfriend. So why treat me so well? The old man shook his head helplessly, "That's impossible!" Before he could finish speaking, his beloved apprentice called out, "Big bad husband, you've finally come back! Ling'er has been waiting for you the whole time!" The old man furrowed his brows, "How could I have come back now? It must be a lie!" "Ha ha, dear Ling'er wife, I've been thinking of you all along," Qin Shao stepped onto his flying sword and charged straight toward her. Ling'er gracefully leapt upward, and the two met in the air, embracing each other. The abbot of Tongling Temple leapt up from his seat, thinking: "You really aren't made of stone—what a feat, completing your mission!" He hurried to the courtyard and looked up, asking, "Xiao Feng, why are you the only one returning? Where is the Grand Inspector?" Qin Shao smiled brightly, "Are you still planning to treat the Grand Inspector like a guest?" "Uh—" "The old man looked embarrassed. With the监察使's lofty status, how could he possibly come to host the leaders? He blushed and asked, 'Has the mission been completed?' Qin Young shook his head. 'Not yet. Qingya was severely injured by a peak-level master. Fortunately, I arrived in time to save her; she's currently recovering.' The old man was stunned. Even the Inspector-General couldn't match that man—what if he launched a surprise attack? He didn't know that the very immortal himself was now in trouble. Without an ID card, he was turned away from hotels. Just when the immortal was at a loss, a 'well-meaning stranger' offered advice: smaller inns or guesthouses don't require ID registration—just payment would suffice, even if the accommodations were modest and less expensive. Overjoyed, he quickly found the famed family-run inn in a quiet alleyway." This place, which boasts itself as a hotel, is actually just ordinary residential buildings converted into lodging—products of the "three certificates missing" category—yet it maintains solid business due to its affordability. To attract guests, owners frequently offer free Wi-Fi and other amenities, and many have established partnerships with the so-called "working women" of the neighborhood; simply by making a phone call, guests can be summoned whenever they have specific needs. Indeed, staying here requires no identification—only a sufficient deposit. After paying, the elderly man still remains at the counter, refusing to leave. The owner, having noticed his advanced age, had no intention of asking him whether he'd like to enjoy a bit of entertainment. When the man, now at his peak, saw the elderly guest lowering his head and no longer paying attention, he bravely asked, "Excuse me, sir—do you offer massage services? I've been working all day and would like to unwind." The owner lifted his head again, gazing at him with a look of doubt, clearly conveying: "Are you really capable? Don't you risk getting worn out here—then who will be responsible?" "Ha ha, no?" "Yes, of course! What kind of service are you looking for?" "Definitely premium—money isn't an issue." To avoid appearing humble, the old man pulled out a thick stack of cash from his waist, totaling over ten thousand yuan. The boss's eyes immediately lit up. "I'll immediately arrange it for you. You go up first—people will arrive shortly!" At the peak of his experience, the man was deeply moved. Indeed, in the worldly realm, money truly can move mountains—how wonderful! He still hadn't fully grasped the importance of not showing off one's wealth, embodying a classic "eat but never remember being hit" personality. Just a few minutes after he went up, a woman in full makeup stepped in, gave the boss a flirtatious glance, and then, with a flowing, elegant tone, asked, "What's going on? Why are you calling me so urgently?" "Upstairs, there's an elderly man—well into his seventies or eighties—who'd like a massage," he replied with a smile. "Old man! What kind of fish is that? How much can he possibly earn? With that wrinkled skin—just lying with someone like that, I'd be miserable for several days!" the woman said with clear disdain. The manager lowered his voice: "It's just that he's wealthy—he can pull out tens of thousands at a time from his pocket. I bet there's far more than that tucked away!" The woman brightened: "Even if he's rich, does he really spend generously? How much would he pay for a single outing?" The manager extended his right hand, making a gun-like gesture, and smiled: "Simple—fishing!" "Fishing is nice, but still, we'll have to take a cut—what ends up in our hands won't be much!" "Still, that's better than making a solid business transaction and earning just a modest profit, isn't it?" "Exactly!" The two quickly reached an agreement. The woman wiggled her way up the stairs, while the manager remained composed, sending a message discreetly and smiling slyly. The knock sounded. The immortal opened the door and saw only a woman, and expressed his displeasure: "Just one?!" "Sir, I'm truly skilled in all eighteen arts—guaranteed to make you feel absolutely comfortable," the woman said with a seductive tone, straightening her posture. As she ascended the stairs, she deliberately loosened the buttons of her blouse, revealing the two full, rounded breasts. The immortal remained somewhat unsatisfied: "There's always better than nothing. Come in—I've been waiting patiently!" "Please, don't rush me. I need time to fully display my eighteen arts," the woman smiled, knowing that her most crucial task was to delay—otherwise, things might go awry. Half an hour later, the peak of the immortal could bear it no longer. He pushed the woman, still enthusiastically demonstrating her arts, down onto the bed and rushed straight into action. At that moment, the rather flimsy door was kicked open from the outside with a loud crash, followed by a sharp command: "Police! Everyone inside, stay put! We've received reports from the public alleging ongoing violations of the law here..." These well-dressed, official-sounding words really didn't need to be said—after all, people had already been pushed bare-bottom onto the beds, and the arrest was already underway. The man who never dies instantly went wide-eyed, stunned. Could this really be happening? He'd only just begun, and here they were barging in—what a coincidence!