Cheongmyeong was at it again. Avoiding work was practically an art form for him, and this time, he’d perfected it by sneaking off to Xi’an. It was the perfect spot—far enough from Mount Hua to dodge Cheongmun’s watchful eyes and conveniently located in the territory of their rival sect, Zhongnan. No one from Mount Hua would dare come here willingly, not with the bad blood between the sects. But for Cheongmyeong, that rivalry made this place ideal for a “break.” After all, it’s not like he cared about those Zhongnan bastards.

Wasting no time, Cheongmyeong threw himself into his “rest” with gusto, stuffing his face with food and drowning himself in alcohol. This was bliss—no nagging elders, no tiresome juniors, and no one demanding he contribute to Mount Hua’s revival.

At least, it was bliss until the idiots from Zhongnan showed up.

“You again?” one of them sneered, looking ready for a fight.

Cheongmyeong, still holding a skewer in one hand and a cup of wine in the other, raised an eyebrow. “I’m eating. Go away.”

But, as always, they couldn’t leave well enough alone. One insult led to another, and before he knew it, they were demanding he leave their precious territory.

So, of course, Cheongmyeong beat them up.

In his defence, they started it. It was only natural he silence them for ruining his well-deserved “break.”

Dusting off his hands, he sighed and turned back to his half-eaten meal. “Idiots,” he muttered. “Can’t even let a man enjoy his wine in peace.”