The bright moon rose, and the night carried a faint chill. Southeast of the Three Imperial Cities, within an inconspicuous little courtyard, lamps burned brightly and the fragrance of wine filled the air.
The fiercely potent Marching Wine burned its way down the throat, its searing heat intoxicating.
After three rounds of wine, though the wine did not intoxicate them, they intoxicated themselves. Two men of utterly different temperaments and vastly different ages sat together, drinking to their hearts' content in strange companionship.
Ning Chen, ever so calculating, played no more schemes this time. Jar after jar of strong wine went into his belly. As he savored that overwhelming burn, much of the exhaustion in his body instead seemed to fade away.
As Xuan Mo watched the young man before him, his attitude and opinion gradually changed. When they had first met, his impression of this youth had been ordinary, because he could not see through him.
A young man capable of concealing all his thoughts possessed a truly terrifying depth of calculation. His instincts told him that this disciple of the Nine Nether King was no simple man.
He had guarded the Three Imperial Cities for far too long and had seen countless young prodigies. He had never held any favorable opinion of these nobles, whose outward appearances were amiable while their hearts ran as deep as the sea.
When he first met this youth, he had felt the same way. Yet because of the Nine Nether King, he had still held back somewhat.
Seeing him again today, with the youth bringing two jars of wine to drink with him, only worsened his impression. Over the centuries, more than one Imperial Prince had come to win him over. Their methods differed, but their final purpose was always the same.