Chapter 9: Customer Service for a Killer

Crimson arrived before the sun.

Again.

Lin Fan opened the door, eyes half-glued shut with sleep, and found the peerless killer standing on the porch like a cursed statue. His face was pale, his posture was perfectly straight, and his bandages were crisp. He looked ready to murder a young master.

"You're early," Lin Fan yawned.

"I have come to begin my repayment."

"Your repayment begins after breakfast. The sun hasn't even rolled out of bed yet."

Crimson stared at the pitch-black horizon, trying to sense the heavenly aura of this instruction. "You are ordering me to enter meditative seclusion until the appointed hour."

"I am telling you to stop standing outside my door like a vengeful ghost."

Crimson nodded solemnly. "Understood."

He didn't move a single inch.

Lin Fan closed the door. Three breaths later, he opened it again. Crimson was still there, completely motionless, probably circulating his qi. Lin Fan sighed, gave up on his life choices, and let him inside.

Ten minutes later, the five bandit employees shuffled in. They carried brooms, mops, and a crumpled piece of paper that they were treating like a supreme Heaven-Tier cultivation manual. The bandit leader had copied Lin Fan’s cleaning schedule word-for-word, but his version had scribbled notes all over the margins.

Lin Fan snatched it and read it out loud.

Meal break: A mandatory trial of the flesh. We must condense our stomach qi to survive the Owner’s domain.

Wash cups: A sacred ritual to scrub away the karma of dead enemies.

Arrive on time: Slay the inner heart-demon of laziness.

Lin Fan slowly folded the paper, feeling a headache brewing in his dantian. "Why?"

The leader cupped his fists, looking painfully earnest. "Senior Lin, we must comprehend the profound Dao hidden in your words!"

"There is no Dao. It’s a chore list. If you don't wash the cups, they stay dirty."

The leader nodded sagely to the other bandits. "Do you hear that, brothers? The deepest truths of the universe are disguised as ordinary dirt. Heaven-defying!"

"Just hide it quietly," Lin Fan muttered, tossing the paper back.

Crimson watched this entire exchange with intense focus. He had spent hundreds of years studying ancient sword tombs and ruined sect formations, yet these former bandits had extracted supreme martial enlightenment from washing dishes. He was starting to realize this teahouse was a terrifying place.

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Lin Fan slapped a rag on the counter. "Listen up. Today, Crimson learns the most dangerous martial art of all: Customer Service."

The five bandits gasped and stood at attention. Crimson’s aura flared defensively.

Lin Fan instantly regretted phrasing it like that. "Customer service just means you talk politely, you answer questions, and you help people."

Crimson nodded slowly. "And if a customer seeks death and causes trouble?"

"You speak politely."

"If they insult my ancestors?"

"You speak politely."

"If they draw their weapons?"

"You duck, and try not to break my tables."

Crimson’s eyes widened. "To suppress one's killing intent entirely... A truly terrifying mental cultivation technique."

"It’s called acting like a normal human being," Lin Fan said. He pointed at the bandit leader. "You. Sit down. Pretend to be a customer. Crimson, serve him."

The leader swaggered to a table, slamming his hands down. "I have waited three entire breaths! Why has my tea not been served? Do you know who my father is?!"

Crimson slowly walked over. He looked down at the bandit. "Your impatience is a flaw in your Dao. It is meaningless."

Lin Fan nearly choked on his own spit. "Stop! Try again. Say, I apologize for the wait. I will fetch it now."

Crimson locked eyes with the bandit. "I apologize for the wait. I will fetch it now."

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. His voice was so deep, so devoid of emotion, that it sounded exactly like a judge reading a death sentence. The bandit leader went rigid, sweating bullets.

Lin Fan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do you sound like you're about to annihilate his nine generations?"

The bandit with the broken bowl raised a trembling hand. "Senior Lin, his sincerity is too heavy! My soul is shaking!"

"Maybe he should try smiling," the leader whispered, terrified.

Crimson smiled.

The bandits physically recoiled. Lin Fan stared in horror. The smile contained zero joy. It looked like a demonic beast grinning right before it chewed off your head.

"Stop smiling. Never smile again," Lin Fan ordered. "Just look calm."

"This is my calm face," Crimson said.

"Then look... less like a serial killer."

"That instruction lacks a clear cultivation path."

"Welcome to customer service," Lin Fan sighed.

A bit later, Lin Fan officially opened the doors. The first customer was a skinny, exhausted rogue cultivator carrying a cheap sword. He froze in the doorway, staring at the six grim men standing around the room like a street gang.

Crimson stepped forward to greet him.

"Welcome to Lin's Teahouse," Crimson announced. "Please enter. I will not harvest your life today unless you attack first."

The customer turned pale.

Lin Fan grabbed Crimson by the collar and dragged him back. "Why would you add that second part?!"

"I am establishing the rules of engagement."

"We sell leaves in hot water! There are no rules of engagement!"

The terrified traveler nervously bought a cup of Tranquility Tea. As he drank it, his exhaustion melted away. The tea was genuinely heaven-defying. He quickly dropped two Spirit Stones on the table, eyeing Crimson as he left a review on the board.

Five Stars. The tea cleared my meridians, but the waiter looks like he is actively preparing to slaughter a rival sect.

[System Alert: Hospitality Points increased: 121 → 123.]

Crimson stared at the board, his aura turning gloomy. "The customer saw through my disguise. He knows we are preparing for war. I have failed the trial."

"He gave us five stars," Lin Fan argued. "That means he liked it. It’s just a joke."

"Mortals make jokes when their lives are on the line?" Crimson asked, bewildered.

Before Lin Fan could explain that normal people don't think their lives are on the line when buying a beverage, a loud voice boomed from the street outside.

"Is this the garbage establishment known as Lin's Teahouse?!"

The bandits all turned. Crimson’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Lin Fan peeked outside and saw several arrogant youths wearing the blue robes of the Clear River Sect marching toward the door.

Lin Fan looked at his clean cups. He looked at his newly repaired tables. Then he looked at his supreme killer employee, whose hand was already twitching toward a nonexistent sword.

"Alright, everyone," Lin Fan whispered. "Remember the sacred Dao of Customer Service."

Crimson took a step toward the door. "No leaving corpses inside the teahouse."

Lin Fan grabbed his shoulder in a panic. "Do not speak to them! I will handle the young masters!"