At dawn, thin mist shrouded the thatched cottage outside Bluestone Town.
Xing San climbed groggily out of bed. His head felt ready to split open, and his mouth was as dry as if it were full of sand.
Out of habit, he reached beside the bed for a wine jar, wanting a swig, but his hand found nothing.
Then he smelled wine.
A rich aroma, so thick it seemed he had been steeped in a vat of it.
Xing San jolted fully awake. Without even putting on his shoes, he rushed barefoot out of the cottage.
He froze.
Outside, row upon row of wine jars stood neatly arranged on the bare dirt.
At a glance, there were at least two or three hundred. They stood in several rows, nearly filling the entire yard.
Red cloth sealed their mouths. That was where the aroma came from.
Li Yun sat among the jars, cradling one in his arms and pouring wine into his mouth.
His face was flushed and his eyes unfocused. When Xing San appeared, he grinned, his tongue nearly tying itself in knots.
"Brother Xing... you're awake? Come, come, drink with me!"
Xing San stared, dumbstruck. It took him a long moment to recover.
He rushed over and snatched the jar from Li Yun's hands. He looked inside—it was empty.
"Have you... have you lost your damn mind?" Xing San's voice went shrill. "You're this drunk first thing in the morning? Don't tell me you actually fell for that Martial Saint True Disciple Secret Canon nonsense!"
Li Yun looked at him through bleary eyes, but his tone was strangely earnest.
"I didn't fall for any nonsense. I really think your Xing Lineage's Martial Saint was incredible. This wine really does have everything in it. Right now, I feel like... the