Xing San rambled drunkenly, saying the same things over and over.
Li Yun listened, his face growing strange.
This drunkard actually thought the wine tasted bad? Like horse piss?
He had everything backward!
What the hell kind of reversal was this?
Xing San drained another bowl of wine. His eyes grew hazier, and he mumbled something under his breath.
Li Yun held his bowl without drinking. He simply watched him.
"Brother, tell me..." Xing San suddenly looked up at Li Yun through bleary eyes. "What's the point of living?"
Li Yun did not answer.
Xing San went on, his voice sinking lower and lower. "I drink every day. Morning, noon, and night. But this wine... the more I drink, the worse it tastes..."
"But I just can't quit!"
Li Yun raised an eyebrow.
The more Xing San drank, the less sense he made.
"Ah, wine doesn't make a man drunk; a man gets drunk on his own sorrows. Brother Xing, it sounds like life hasn't treated you kindly. But I heard the Xing Lineage was once glorious, and even produced someone extraordinary..."
Xing San's hand paused, the bowl stopping at his lips.
"Someone extraordinary?" he murmured. Then he laughed, oddly. "You mean that Martial Saint?"
Li Yun's interest stirred, but his expression remained calm. "Martial Saint? Did the Xing Lineage really produce a Martial Saint?"
Xing San did not answer. He stared down at the wine in his bowl for a long time.
Then he hurled the bowl to the floor. Shards flew everywhere.
"Martial Saint? Bullshit!"
His eyes red, he roared hoarsely, "What Martial Saint? He was just a drunkard! If I could find his grave, I'd dig him up myself."
Li Yun froze.
Well, damn.
That was quite a reaction.
And why did he sound so full of