Thorin finished speaking disdainfully and unfastened a smoothly polished drinking horn from his belt.
The horn was as large as a huge bowl, and he set it on the table with a clunk.
"That little thing of yours isn't even enough to rinse my mouth!"
"This is what you need for a proper drink!"
Lin Mo smiled at the sight, unoffended.
"This is our Great Xia's baijiu. It's strong stuff. You need to sip it from a small cup to appreciate its flavor."
He made an inviting gesture.
"If you don't believe me, give it a sniff first."
Thorin looked skeptical, but he still picked up the small cup and brought it beneath his enormous, reddened nose.
In an instant, an overpowering, pure aroma of liquor unlike anything he had ever experienced shot straight to the top of his skull.
It smelled a hundred times richer than even the Dwarves' strongest liquor!
His eyes lit up, and he tipped his head back, draining the cup.
"Cough... cough, cough, cough!"
The next second, Thorin's weathered old face turned a deep purplish red. He clutched his throat and coughed violently, as though he had swallowed a red-hot branding iron.
Yet after a few coughs, Thorin abruptly stopped.
He stood frozen, smacking his lips as his eyes grew wider and wider.
A line of fire burned from his throat all the way to his stomach. Then warmth swept through his body, wiping away the fatigue of his journey.
Finally, a rich grain fragrance mingled with an unusual sweetness spread through his mouth.
"Good... good liquor!"
Thorin slammed a hand on the table with a deafening bang.
His eyes shone as he snatched up the bottle, poured liquor into his drinking horn, and drained it.
"Haah!"
He let out an utterly satisfied sigh, every