Late at night, the snow fell even harder. It was already the dead of night.
In a newly built residence within Meng Family Village, Liu An, Qiao Nian, Yan Libing, and Shi Jiawen had gathered in the central room on the northern side.
Inside, the sealed stove burned brightly, flames roaring. Outside lay a world of ice and snow, while indoors it was warm as spring.
On the four tea tables arranged side by side sat spirits, roast chicken, braised meat, and fried peanuts. Though they contained no Blood Qi or vital essence and offered no benefit whatsoever to Martial Dao Cultivation, their flavors were all master-level, leaving the four quite satisfied.
Qiao Nian picked up a fried peanut and lightly tossed it into the air. It traced a graceful arc before falling into his mouth. He chewed a few times, savoring the taste on his tongue.
Yan Libing had removed his headband, his long hair spilling loose. With a wine jug in hand and drunken eyes hazy, he embodied the saying: wine did not intoxicate the man; the man intoxicated himself. He carried something of those wild scholars of Wei and Jin, singing his heart out and drinking as he sang.
Liu An sat the most upright of them all. The wine and food before him remained untouched. He merely toyed with a milky-white wine cup, which rose and dipped between his fingers like a butterfly among flowers.
Compared to the other three, Shi Jiawen was the most agitated. His eyes were bloodshot, and from time to time he rubbed the wine-red thumb ring on his right hand, muttering under his breath.
This strange scene continued for roughly a quarter of an hour before Shi Jiawen finally broke the unnatural silence.
"Gentlemen, what are your thoughts? Meng Zhao is