It was no wonder that the Aristocratic Hall dared to flaunt such a rare and exalted product. After all, this generation's famed Wine God, Song Shang, had personally overseen its fermentation!
Though Song Shang himself hadn't uttered a word to confirm it, no one in the audience doubted it for a second. Every noble present already whispered the same conclusion that only Song Shang, the man who was both a formidable Sky Xuan expert and the unrivaled master of wine-making, could have created something so divine.
His title as 'Wine God' had long outshone his reputation as a warrior. To the world, his sword was sharp, but his wine, sharper still.
Soon, several maids in light-yellow robes began to move gracefully through the hall. Each one pushed a silver trolley, and upon each trolley rested twelve small glasses.
The glasses were delicate, so small they seemed almost impractical for drinking. Yet their craftsmanship silenced any complaint before it could form.
Each cup was sculpted from pure silver, thin as cicada wings, shimmering faintly under the soft glow of the chandeliers. They were works of art rather than mere vessels.
Aside from their beauty, the silver cups served a purpose; they ensured the wine was safe.
Everyone knew: no poison could hide within silver.
The wine would be pure, untarnished, divine.
One by one, three glasses were placed upon each table.
The air rippled with anticipation.
A few moments later, more maids arrived. This time, each carried a wine bottle shaped from translucent jade. Their movements were careful, reverent, as if handling something sacred.
The moment the first bottle was tilted, a soft gurgling sound filled the hall. The liquid that poured out was not ordinary wine. It shimmered faintly, like liquid moonlight flowing through a river of dreams.
And then it happened, the fragrance erupted.
It was richer, deeper, and more intoxicating than before. The scent spiraled through the air, wrapping around the senses of every man and woman present. The hall was no longer filled with nobles and officials, only dreamers lost in the spell of this Heavenly Wine.
Even those who had prided themselves on restraint found their throats moving unconsciously, swallowing back drool.
Song Shang finally raised his hand, his calm yet powerful voice cutting through the collective trance.
"The main item for this auction," He declared, his tone steady as still water, "is a wine never before seen on the mainland, the Heavenly Class Wine! We invite everyone to taste it first. Only then will you truly understand what is at stake when the bidding begins."
His presence was commanding and refined, yet filled with the quiet dignity of a Sky Xuan master. Even his silence carried weight.
Compared to Tang Yuan's blustering presence earlier, Song Shang was like a tranquil lake reflecting the heavens, serene, but unfathomably deep.
"After tasting this wine," He continued, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "you will understand that this is no mere drink. It is a spiritual treasure, a masterpiece of heaven and earth itself. No price will be too high and no effort too great. Whoever wins it… wins a miracle."
He waved his hand lightly. "Please."
That single word sent a ripple through the hall.
Every noble, every merchant, every guest leaned forward. They had been coveting this wine from the moment its scent first touched their senses.
But now, with a glass of it before them so close they could touch it, patience was impossible.
Many inwardly cursed the Aristocratic Hall for being stingy. 'So little wine? Just one mouthful?'
As if reading their thoughts, Song Shang smiled faintly.
"Everyone must be thinking these glasses are too small," He said, his tone light, teasing. "That they are not enough to drink properly."
Laughter spread through the crowd, full of guilty laughter, for he was absolutely right.
"In this regard," Song Shang said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "this Hall admits its guilt. But think if everyone were allowed to drink their fill, would they truly cherish this Heavenly Wine? Would its divine essence still be seen as a treasure?"
"No, indulgence breeds contempt. This small sip," He gestured to the cups, "is not stinginess. It is a restraint to protect a sacred gift from mortal greed."
The nobles exchanged amused glances, dismissing his words with polite chuckles. None of them truly understood what he meant.
And then, they raised their cups.
The silver shimmered in unison as hundreds of glasses tilted.
The moment the wine touched their lips, time seemed to stop. The taste was indescribable. A soft warmth spread from their tongues to their very souls. It wasn't just flavor; it was an experience like breathing mountain air above the clouds, like standing in spring sunlight after an endless winter.
Princess Ling Meng, however, did not drink. She had never liked wine, and more importantly, she wouldn't dare act without permission. The two black-clothed men behind her radiated a pressure that made even breathing near them difficult. She shot them a disdainful look and passed her cup backward.
The two men's eyes gleamed. Without hesitation, they accepted the wine, three glasses between the two of them.
They drank, and in that moment, both hardened warriors felt their hearts tremble.
They had tasted every rare brew in the empire. Yet this was beyond mortal craft.
The warmth that spread through them wasn't drunkenness. It was peace, pure and untainted.
Their eyes met, and between them lay one last untouched cup.
Neither of them moved nor blinked.
The tension was palpable, two wolves staring at the same piece of prey.
From his seat in the distance, Young Master Jun observed with narrowed eyes. His mind raced. "Those two men… they're not ordinary. One of them… could it be him?"
His gaze darkened. 'If that's true… then who dares not yield to him?'
The hall was silent. Every soul was caught between bliss and disbelief.
And then, a deep, thunderous voice broke through the stillness.
"Ahhh! By the heavens—!"
A rotund man suddenly shot up from his seat, his face flushed red, his eyes shining.
"This… this taste! It's like swallowing liquid starlight!" He bellowed, clutching his empty cup as though it were the most precious thing in the world. "By the ancestors, I could die happy after this one sip!"
Laughter and murmurs of agreement spread. But beneath it all, everyone's eyes burned with the same desire.
That single sip had changed the air of the entire hall.
The Heavenly Wine had done what gold and power never could. It had made every man, noble or emperor, equal in their yearning.
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice.
A broad-shouldered man, barely in his forties, had leapt to his feet as though struck by lightning. His face glowed crimson, half from the wine, half from pure ecstasy. His hand still clutched his cup as if afraid it might vanish. His eyes were glazed with a foolish kind of reverence as he raised his head and declared loudly, his voice echoing through the auction hall.
"You truly deserve to be called the 'Wine God'! Only someone of divine skill could ferment such a wondrous brew! One sip and I feel as though my very soul has flown to the heavens! Tell me, when will the auction begin? What's the base price? No matter how much it costs, this Zhao will take at least ten jars of this wine back home!"
His booming voice rolled across the hall like thunder.
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