As the Yinsu Sect's young master had said, the bloody storm of that night had settled like dust kicked up by a gentle breeze.
Within just a few days, no one spoke of it anymore. It was as if everything connected to that inn had vanished into thin air.
Of course… except for the perpetrators, led by Xu Yu, and the one who had narrowly escaped—Mu Yun.
…
In a quiet, out-of-the-way alley in Qingchuan City, Mu Yun stopped. Before him hung an inn's banner, its shimmering characters reading "Tongfu."
Mu Yun smiled at the name and pushed the door open.
The waiter inside, seeing that the new customer was a young boy, did not show any annoyance. He called out a few greetings and came over to chat.
The common folk of Qingchuan City knew well that in this era where strength reigned supreme, even children might possess skills and cunning far beyond ordinary civilians.
Having lived in the city for a long time, this waiter had long since grown slick and tactful.
After entering the inn, Mu Yun casually took a seat at a table, ordered a few dishes that appealed to him, and said no more.
Soon, wisps of cooking smoke rose from the kitchen, and the aroma of food filled the air.
…
"Fragrant… stir-fried chicken cubes. Not bad, not bad."
The wooden door creaked open, letting in a gust of evening wind. Mu Yun's nose suddenly caught a faint scent of pine and ink. It was a smell utterly at odds with the greasy, smoky atmosphere of the inn, yet it wafted in as the tattered scholar pushed through the door, his robes fluttering.
A large gourd hung at his waist, swaying with his steps—somewhat out of place.
Mu Yun looked up at the ragged scholar.
The next instant, the Zeus Creative Neurological System sounded a warning in Mu Yun's mind.
"Warning: Current target exceeds risk threshold. System cannot determine range of combat power."
Mu Yun's heart tightened with alarm, but his expression did not change.
"You again… you gourd-carrying drunkard! Hurry up… we're about to close… get out!"
Despite the harsh words, the scholar did not take offense. He smiled faintly and spoke gently: "There are still people eating. How can you be closing?"
Mu Yun looked up. The waiter, seemingly eager to please, immediately leaned down to explain to Mu Yun: "This penniless scholar came to Qingchuan City a few years ago. He's visited every inn and tavern in the city—from the luxurious Yuque House to shabby roadside places like ours…"
Seeing that Mu Yun showed no interest in continuing the conversation, the waiter went on: "Whenever he comes in, he does nothing but drink until he's dead drunk, then leaves. The worst part is, when he leaves, he always mutters that he hasn't had enough, or that the wine isn't good. Over time, almost every tavern in Qingchuan City got sick of him. Even if they had business, they'd refuse to serve him."
Mu Yun nodded as if to say, I see. The waiter, pleased that he had successfully ingratiated himself, was about to speak again when Mu Yun stopped him with a gesture. Smiling, Mu Yun said, "What the gentleman says is reasonable. Your establishment hasn't closed yet, so you can't turn away a customer."
No sooner had Mu Yun spoken than the scholar pulled an official silver ingot from his robe and tossed it toward the waiter without even looking.
The waiter caught it hastily, looking somewhat embarrassed.
The tattered young scholar, hearing Mu Yun's words, laughed heartily at him, as if thanking him for speaking up on his behalf.
"Keep the change!" the scholar said as he passed the waiter, casually patting him on the shoulder.
"Yes… yes," the waiter stammered, unable to suppress a grin.
Seeing that Mu Yun's table was being served dish after dish, the scholar sighed, "Good food is easy to come by, but fine wine is hard to find."
He shook his head ruefully. The waiter, who had just finished setting down the dishes, said offhandedly, "Our inn has hundred-year-old liquor." Then, remembering the scholar's habit of getting disgustingly drunk, he added, "But we won't serve it to you. That would be a waste."
"Sir, if you don't mind my presumptuousness, please come sit with me. You can tell me something about the way of wine."
According to the Zeus Creative Neurological System's assessment, the man before him was likely a cultivator beyond the Golden Core stage. This might be a valuable opportunity to learn about this cultivation world.
The scholar's eyes glinted almost imperceptibly. "Excellent, excellent!" he said.
Once the dishes were all served, the scholar unslung the gourd from his waist and set it on the table. "Inside is two-hundred-year-old daughter's wine from Yuque House," he said to Mu Yun.
"Come, come, have a taste." As he spoke, he uncorked the gourd. The rich aroma of wine wafted out.
"Could it really be two-hundred-year-old daughter's wine?" The waiter was deeply shaken. A flurry of thoughts rushed through his mind. Just then, a voice came from the inner room: "Li Wan, step back. I'll attend to this myself." The words had barely faded when a middle-aged, slightly plump man emerged.
So the waiter's name was Li Wan. At that moment, he seemed to understand. Two-hundred-year-old daughter's wine from Yuque House could only be afforded by the famous or the fabulously wealthy of Qingchuan City. Yet here it appeared on a penniless scholar. Even if he had stolen it or taken it by force, it only proved that he had ability. Such a person was not someone that a small, struggling inn like this could afford to offend.
Like the waiter, Mu Yun had been deeply captivated by the wine's fragrance the moment it filled the air.
It wasn't that he had never drunk wine before—it was that the last time had been so very long ago. Ever since Earth had fallen into the solar flare crisis, he had been working nonstop, leading Earth's scientists in trying to solve the crisis, sustaining himself almost entirely on energy bars.
Drinking wine—he had once considered it a waste of time.
But at this moment, he found it hard to resist.
By now, the middle-aged, plump man had reached Mu Yun and the scholar. He spoke with a beaming smile: "I am the owner of this inn. My name is Li Yuan. If you need anything, just ask."
The young scholar smiled faintly. "Master Li, there's no need for such ceremony. I've heard that your establishment has some very old sorghum wine. If you would be willing to bring some out for this young friend to sample, I would gladly pay a handsome price."
Mu Yun quickly tried to decline: "I've never drunk wine before. There's no need to go to any trouble." But then he thought: this scholar was said to be a hopeless drunkard. Perhaps his words were just an excuse using Mu Yun's name.
As for Master Li, hearing the ragged young scholar immediately bring up the prized treasure of his establishment, his heart ached a little. Still, he did not dawdle. With a word of assent, he left to fetch the wine, his jaw set as if he were taking a gamble.
After the innkeeper left, the scholar produced two translucent cups from somewhere and set them on the table. The cups gave off a faint white glow. As he poured the wine, he said, "In ancient times, demons ran wild and wars raged. On this land, countless men shed their blood and fought fierce enemies. So it was in the world of immortals, and so it was in the mortal realm…"
Now both cups were full. The young scholar gestured to the glowing cups and continued, "Daughter's wine is red in color. This two-hundred-year-old daughter's wine is as red as blood."
He shook his head, as if in lament. "These cups are called 'night-shining cups.' There's nothing better for drinking daughter's wine. When poured into them, the wine looks like blood. Drinking it feels like drinking the blood of your enemies—that's the real pleasure!"
Mu Yun looked into his cup. Indeed, the wine in the night-shining cup swirled like blood—a shocking sight.
"Come, come, young friend. You've invited me to eat; I'll invite you to drink. Let's finish our cups!" The scholar raised his cup to Mu Yun. Mu Yun did not stand on ceremony. Raising his own cup, he said, "To be treated to such fine wine by you, sir, is my good fortune." Then, imitating the young scholar, he downed it in one go.
As the wine slid down his throat, it felt like a blazing sword piercing through his gullet, stabbing straight into his viscera. The moment the liquid passed his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as if countless tiny lightning serpents were slithering along his spine, exploding in his dantian into a blazing cloud of fire.
In that instant, it was as if Mu Yun had followed the scholar's words and traveled back to the chaotic ancient times.
Flying through the sky, diving into the earth, drawing a sword to slay enemies, drinking their blood with relish—what a thrill!
Mu Yun had only drunk half a cup, but he saw that the young scholar had already finished his and was smiling at him.
Somewhat embarrassed, Mu Yun downed the remaining half in one gulp.