What? Trying to extort me?

Returning the heavy truck, he retrieved his motorcycle and headed back to the rented villa. But halfway there, Bai Yang stopped, looked up at the blue sky and white clouds, and thought for a long moment—what had he forgotten?

"Right, I forgot to bring wine for Dad. He probably got so caught up in that lumber he forgot too. I'll bring it next time I go home..."

Having figured it out, he stopped dwelling on it. Racing back to the rented villa like the wind, he didn't rush over to 'that side.' Instead, he went to the bedroom and hauled the Black Clay Jar filled with Emerald Wine out from under the bed.

"Is this stuff really as good as the test said? Big boost, improves constitution, plenty of benefits—but I'd have to step up my training to absorb it. And that's exhausting..."

Bai Yang was torn. He wanted to drink this wine to toughen up his body, but he dreaded the effort. And if he drank without exercising, he'd end up a fat lump...!

That's how people are—wanting a good body but too lazy to work for it. Where in the world is there such a free lunch?

After agonizing for a while, he gritted his teeth and stomped his foot. Exhausting or not, so be it. He'd survived the college entrance exam grind; how could a little exercise kill him?

He went to the bathroom, grabbed a rinsing cup, and scooped out a tiny bit from the jar. Without a scale, he had no idea what thirty milliliters looked like, so to be safe, he took just a sip.

The wine's fragrance was intoxicating. He downed it in one gulp. As the liquid hit his tongue, he couldn't help shivering. Every pore on his body seemed to breathe, a wave of pure comfort washing over him.

When it came to wine, Bai Yang was a total amateur. He couldn't tell good from bad. His most honest review was just two words:

Tasty~!

"Fruit wine. Alcohol content's probably about the same as beer, but it's genuinely delicious. I'd bet it's ten thousand times better than so-called cocktails. No wonder Mom and Dad both asked me for it—one sip and you're hooked"!

Closing his eyes to savor it, his whole body felt as if a cool, refreshing energy had been injected into it, lifting him up like he was floating.

Then Bai Yang sensed something was off. Gradually, heat began to spread through him—not a scorching burn, but a deep, internal warmth. The most obvious sign? Well, he was getting hard, and his nose was threatening to bleed...

To avoid turning into a fat lump, the overheated Bai Yang dropped the cup and bolted outside in a panic. He sprinted down the villa's roads, venting his energy. Even though he was drenched in sweat and his whole body ached, he still felt bursting with vitality. An illusion crept into his mind—he could take down an ox with one punch...

"I really can't run anymore..."

He collapsed onto the lawn, panting hard. After resting a bit, he still felt full of energy. He got up and ran again, collapsed again, and repeated this cycle several times until he was completely drained.

Dragging his exhausted body back, he was suddenly stopped by an old man who appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path!

"Old man, what do you want? I'm really tired right now. If you're trying to pull a scam, wait until I've rested first..."

Glancing at the other man, Bai Yang said weakly.

The old man wasn't tall—at most, about one meter seventy. He was thin, but stood ramrod straight. His snow-white hair was slicked back in a pompadour, his complexion ruddy and ageless. Dressed in an undershirt, straight-leg trousers, and cloth shoes, he had the air of a true master.

But faced with Bai Yang's sharp tongue, the old man nearly kicked him. Which eye of yours sees me as a scammer?

Suppressing the urge to spit blood, the old man looked at Bai Yang with a kindly smile and said, "Young man, don't rush. I can see you're quite special..."

Before the old man could finish, Bai Yang cut him off, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out a ten-yuan bill. He held it out and said, "Old man, I know I've got an extraordinary physique. Here's ten bucks—keep it, no need to hand me a secret manual. Leave saving the world to Spider-Man, Iron Man, Batman, Green Lantern, The Green Hornet, and all those other heroes. Bye-bye now..."

The old man gritted his teeth instinctively. Taking a deep breath, he still didn't lower his arm blocking Bai Yang. Exhaling slowly to maintain his composure, he said, "Young man, don't misunderstand—I'm not a con artist..."

"Come on, old man, how could you possibly be a con artist? I think people in your line are actors risking their lives..."

Bai Yang was rambling on, spittle flying, but then the old man's eyes widened. Bai Yang's words got stuck in his throat. The feeling was just like when he'd first encountered the Barbarians over on 'that side,' staring down the cold tip of an arrow.

"Let me finish," the old man said, turning kind again.

Swallowing nervously, Bai Yang felt a chill run down his spine. He stiffly nodded and said, "Go ahead, go ahead. I'm listening."

"I mean no harm. I just want to take your pulse."

With that, the old man naturally reached out and grabbed Bai Yang's wrist, narrowing his eyes in contemplation.

Whether it was because of the old man's gaze or something else, Bai Yang had no idea how his arm ended up in the other man's grip...

"Strange, strange..."

After a minute, the old man let go of Bai Yang's arm, frowning and shaking his head. Then he muttered to himself and walked off mysteriously.

Bai Yang: "..."

What the hell was that? He stood there for several minutes, completely baffled by the old man's actions. Only after the old man's figure had completely disappeared did he snap out of it, squinting and stroking his chin in thought.

"Could this be one of those legendary reclusive masters hiding in the city? His hand moved so fast and accurately, grabbing my wrist instantly. His grip was like iron hooks—strong as hell. Where did this old monster come from"?

More importantly, why had the old man randomly stopped him to take his pulse?

He couldn't figure it out!

Filled with confusion, he returned to the villa. After a refreshing cold shower to wash off the sweat, he felt completely relaxed, all worries gone. As for the old man, he filed it away in his mind—he had a feeling they'd meet again.

To thank the villagers 'over there' for building his house, he made a special trip to the supermarket and bought a hundred packs of salt. He tore open every package, dumped the salt into a plastic bucket, and carried it over to that side...

The reason he brought salt was because he'd seen that girl grilling meat with a lump of brown salt crushed up and sprinkled over it...

That was unacceptable!

Back in the villa district where Bai Yang was renting, the white-haired old man who had stopped him arrived at a villa covering a full three thousand square meters, still frowning with a puzzled expression.

In a pavilion within the villa complex, a stone table and stone stools sat. Another old man with graying hair was brewing tea with fluid, practiced movements. Dressed in a Tang suit, his actions created an atmosphere of ancient elegance.

As the white-haired old man entered the pavilion, the tea-brewing old man didn't look up. "What's this? Haven't seen you in years, and you come to my place just to give me a sour face"?

The white-haired old man glanced at him and said, "I never thought that after all these years, the decisive, forceful man I knew would turn into such a slow, gentle old man. Don't you find it sickening"?

"Back then, being decisive and forceful was out of necessity. Officialdom is a battlefield—if you don't advance, you retreat. Now that I've stepped down, can't I be allowed to temper my temperament a bit? Look, look—it's because my temper was too foul back then that none of the younger generation in the family bother to visit me except during holidays," the tea-brewing old man said with exasperation.

The white-haired old man shook his head and said nothing.

"And here I thought you'd never have a day of worry," the tea-brewing old man said, stopping his movements in surprise. In his memory, the white-haired old man always faced everything with an air of calm detachment.

"Just now I ran into a young man. From a distance, I could see his essence and energy were full and vigorous. Out of curiosity, I stopped him, wanting to take his pulse, but he thought I was trying to stage a scam..."

"Hahaha, a scam? You? That's hilarious..."

The old man brewing tea chuckled for a while, then grew bored when he saw the other's calm expression. He continued, "And you're looking so strange just because of that?"

"Of course not. It's because after I took his pulse, I discovered that young man's essence, energy, and spirit were astonishingly full. Yet he clearly looked like someone who never exercises—truly baffling," the white-haired old man said, looking perplexed.

"And here I thought it was something serious. You've been brooding over this?"

"No, I've been thinking about how to ask you for a favor..."

"..."

The tea-brewing old man looked speechless. "What favor do you need from me?"

"I happened to learn that a very special kind of liquor has appeared in this area. I want you to help me trace its source..."

(Still struggling—this chapter took nearly six hours to write...)