You've taken the wrong seat.

Around lunchtime, Yaya returned home with Maomao, her face brimming with pride. If not for the dust smeared across her cheeks and trousers, which prompted her grandmother to whisk her away for a bath, her delight might have lingered even longer.

At the dining table, Du Ruo gulped down her mother’s chicken soup and mentioned she’d be going to Guangdong Province, perhaps heading out to sea with friends for some fishing. If the catch was good, she might be gone for several days, so it would be normal if her phone couldn’t be reached.

Her mother suspected nothing. Hearing she might be gone for a week or even ten days, she divided the last two drumsticks between Yaya and Maomao.

“Grandma, I can’t finish two drumsticks.”

Yaya frowned—besides the two drumsticks, her bowl still held half a portion of rice. Unless she swapped the drumsticks for fish, she couldn’t possibly finish it.

“If you don’t eat them, give them all to Maomao. He could eat four by himself,” her mother grumbled.

“Really?” Yaya’s face lit up with surprise, and Maomao, too, raised his head from his bowl. This was what you’d call a pleasant surprise.

...

After the meal, Du Ruo went to the guesthouse to collect all the dried fish Yan Yuanyuan had given her. She delivered Yaya and Maomao back to town, handed the dried fish to Du Na, and let her know she’d be away for a few days, so she wouldn’t be able to pick up Yaya next week. Only then did she return to the guesthouse.

There was much to be explained—not just about her days away, but in case of unforeseen circumstances...

That evening, Du Ruo hosted a gathering with drinks, inviting even Xiaoling. She brought out all her beef, giving some away and consuming the rest, so nothing would spoil and go to waste.

“Tsk, tsk, sea fishing—just the thought of it sounds amazing. I’ve never had tuna before. If you manage to catch some, remember to bring a bit back,” Yang Chenguang said with envy. With two sons at home and his wife wanting a third child, he had little chance to travel. He genuinely envied Du Ruo’s carefree lifestyle—she could go wherever she pleased.

“Of course, I won’t forget. Just keep an eye on the shop for me these days. There’ll be plenty of fish when I return. Xiaoling, if you need anything, go to Chenguang,” Du Ruo teased with a smile.

They didn’t drink for long. Whether it was the medicinal wine getting to him or urgent matters at home, Yang Chenguang hurried off, and Xiaoling left with him.

“Yuanyuan, I need a favor,” Du Ruo called out as Yan Yuanyuan was about to leave.

“Huh? Go ahead,”

—

Yan Yuanyuan, clutching a wine bottle, had just risen when Du Ruo called, leaving her a bit puzzled.

“Can you make tiger bone wine?” Du Ruo didn’t beat around the bush. Their interactions had always been pleasant, and he knew her character well, so he spoke plainly. After all, only she could be entrusted with this. Otherwise, he’d have no choice but to boil the tiger bones in soup. People think tiger bone wine is just soaking tiger bones in alcohol, but if it were that simple, medicinal wine wouldn’t be so valuable.

“Tiger bone? What kind of tiger? The medicinal effects differ greatly depending on the species,” Yan Yuanyuan’s interest was piqued. She cared little about the source, far more about its properties.

“Bengal tiger—an entire skeleton.”

“I can’t do it myself, but my grandfather can. Give me the tiger bones, I’ll supply the necessary herbs, and take twenty percent as my share. You know, making genuine tiger bone wine is a complex process. Few winemakers can fully unlock its medicinal power, and it requires many precious herbs,” Yan Yuanyuan’s eyes sparkled. She’d never personally taken part in making tiger bone wine and thought she’d missed her chance. Du Ruo’s offer was a surprise, and twenty percent as compensation was reasonable.

“Alright, send me your home address, and I’ll leave it to you.”

“No problem, I’ll send it right now,” Yan Yuanyuan’s joy was plain to see. She immediately took out her phone and sent the information to Du Ruo.

Du Ruo glanced at it and forwarded it to Li Yu.

“Received. It’ll arrive within three days,” Li Yu replied promptly.

After Yan Yuanyuan left, Du Ruo practiced his boxing until his mind was calm, then added the attribute points he’d gained today before washing up and going to bed.

Though calm inwardly, as he lay in bed his mind wandered. Ever since he’d acquired the system, Du Ruo knew his fate had changed.

He no longer wanted to drift aimlessly through life. He wanted to practice martial arts, to go further.

Originally, he only intended to practice martial arts on the side and run an ordinary guesthouse. But the deeper he delved into martial arts, the clearer a truth became: training wasn’t something to be done at home.

The system’s extracted skills and knowledge were merely information; cultivating skills to gain attribute points made him physically stronger, but such strength was illusory, affecting only the body. Martial arts were never so simple. No one ever became a master by practicing at home. Without real-world experience and trial, what use were a multitude of skills? Just practicing Xingyi boxing and adding points would suffice.

...

The next morning, Du Ruo rose early and thoroughly groomed himself—shaving his beard, clipping his nails, and even, for once, washing his face with soap. He gathered his Panlong silk and all his hidden weapons, hailed a taxi, and set off for the airport.

—

Panlong silk and hidden weapons might be considered prohibited items, but the Panlong bracelet and sewing needles were not, so he could carry them openly and pass security checks without issue. The journey was smooth and unobstructed.

...

Setting foot again in Guangdong Province, Du Ruo felt a sense of disorientation, as if nothing had changed, yet everything was different.

“Master Du? Hello, I’m here to pick you up. The vehicle is waiting outside. Please, this way,”

A voice dispelled Du Ruo’s sense of unreality. A middle-aged man stood before him, slightly bowed, making a welcoming gesture—reminding Du Ruo that things truly were different.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Leaving the airport, the man drove a Mercedes silently for about forty minutes before stopping at a detached villa.

The estate wasn’t luxurious, nor was it large. Its sole distinction was its setting—nestled by mountains and water, far from the city’s clamor.

“Master Du, please follow me. Some guests have already arrived. At noon, our boss will host a meal for all the invitees. For now, please come to the tea room.”

The man got out and led the way, letting Du Ruo know that he wasn’t the only one invited today.

Du Ruo wasn’t surprised; for such a bounty, he wasn’t the only one interested.

The man led Du Ruo to the tea room’s entrance, gestured him in, and departed.

Du Ruo looked inside. The room was plainly furnished: a massive solid wood tea table, with three chairs on either side.

Three people were already seated. On the left, an old man of about fifty, dressed in undershirt and trousers, feet in rare Liberation shoes, skin dark, hands rough and calloused from holding the teacup—he looked every bit the seasoned farmer.

On the right sat two men, both in their thirties. One wore a suit and glasses, amiable and refined, smiling. The other wore a camouflage vest, his hair cropped short, muscles bulging on his arms—a man not to be trifled with.

Du Ruo sized up the three, and they in turn scrutinized him, but no one spoke.

Du Ruo didn’t bother with greetings. He moved to sit beside the old man, dragging the heavy wooden chair to take his seat.

“You’ve chosen the wrong seat. We, the employment agencies or groups, sit on this side. That side is for lone wolves,” the bespectacled, refined man across from him said with a smile.