Chapter 63: When Kindred Spirits Meet, a Thousand Cups Are Too Few

Chapter Sixty-Three: A Thousand Cups Are Too Few When Drinking with a Kindred Spirit

Wu Hong leapt up to the door of the second-floor VIP room. Before he could open it, the wooden door creaked open, slowly pushed by a gentle breeze.

Wu Hong smiled slightly, seeing that only one person occupied the VIP room. This man wore coarse linen clothes, had thick eyebrows and large eyes, a square mouth, and two sword-like brows that pointed straight toward his brow center. His stature was exceptionally tall and imposing; even seated, an intangible aura radiated from him.

Since the other had extended the invitation, Wu Hong did not stand on ceremony and sat down directly.

“Waiter, bring ten jars of wine!” The burly man did not bother to reveal his name, simply called for wine, evidently having noticed Wu Hong’s prodigious capacity for drink and wishing to befriend him.

The waiter clicked his tongue in astonishment—ten jars, if poured into large bowls, would equal a hundred bowls of wine!

Wu Hong was startled as well. Though he had no idea why his tolerance for alcohol had increased so drastically, drinking like this was bound to have consequences. Who knew if he would succumb to drunkenness?

But Wu Hong was troubled at heart; he thought to himself that if he got drunk, so be it—what did it matter?

Very soon, several waiters carried the ten jars of wine and placed them before them.

“Come, brother! Judging by your drinking, you must be a forthright man. Let’s each finish a jar first!” The burly man picked up a jar, did not bother with a bowl, spoke his words, and began drinking straight from it.

Wu Hong was delighted by his boldness, and himself took a jar, gulping it down in great draughts.

After draining a jar, perhaps from drinking too hastily, Wu Hong felt a surge of potent wine rushing straight for his central nervous system.

Yet as soon as this intense spirit touched Wu Hong’s brain, the golden radiance of the Divine Sun Sutra flashed within his mind, and he instantly sobered.

Ever since the Divine Sun Sutra had settled in Wu Hong’s mind, any toxin or substance that threatened his nerves would be dispelled by the golden light enveloping his brain. How could ordinary wine possibly cause him to fall drunk?

Even if Wu Hong wished to become intoxicated now, it would be exceedingly difficult.

The burly man was overjoyed to see Wu Hong drink so heartily, and grabbed another jar, gulping it down, paying no heed to the dishes on the table.

The two drank jar after jar, forgetting everything else. Wu Hong had never drunk like this before; in fact, he had always disliked alcohol, but now he found himself enchanted by fine wine.

Some of the martial folk in the tavern, seeing the two drink with such abandon, set down their cups, dumbfounded. The thick-browed man repeatedly ordered ten jars at a time, and if converted to bowls or by weight, the total would surely exceed a thousand bowls.

The martial crowd stared at them as if watching monsters; neither used inner force to resist the effects, relying only on their own drinking prowess!

“Haha—brother, you are truly a master of drink! I, Yang, have never met my match in drinking, but today I have finally found one! Haha—” The thick-browed man introduced himself as Yang and showered Wu Hong with praise.

Wu Hong felt somewhat guilty; if not for the Divine Sun Sutra shielding his mind from the effects of the wine, he would surely have been drunk already.

“You too, brother, are a prodigious drinker! Haha—But I see your cultivation is extraordinary as well; surely you have few rivals in the martial world?”

“Ah, you don’t know, brother. I spent decades training with masters in the mountains, thinking I’d have no equal in the martial world. But as soon as I entered the world, I was defeated by a single opponent!”

Mentioning his past, the man’s brows furrowed slightly. Clearly he did not know Wu Hong’s identity, and his openness in sharing his feelings made Wu Hong silently praise him as an upright man.

“You are too modest, brother. I see your brow is full, your vital energy is strong—surely you have reached the pinnacle of the postnatal realm. Who could be your equal?”

Wu Hong was not skilled at discerning others’ cultivation, but every inch of this burly man’s presence radiated something extraordinary; it was only a guess.

Unexpectedly, the man was startled and said, “Brother, you have sharp eyes! Yet even with such cultivation, I was still defeated by the fiend Wu Hong—nearly lost my life!”

Hearing his own name, Wu Hong’s expression grew strange. After a moment’s thought, he realized it was the impostor who had been posing as him. If not for his weapon’s sudden power in the microcosm of the Book of Heaven, defeating the opponent would have been uncertain.

“That Wu Hong is truly despicable. What grudge does he have with you to insist on a battle?” Wu Hong probed.

The burly man’s face twisted with anger at the mention of Wu Hong’s evil, and he growled, “Hmph—I was never one to believe rumors. I thought, since Wu Hong had no grievances with so many martial folk, why would he commit such heinous acts? I never believed the rumors—until…”

He was about to explain further, but suddenly sensed the crowd nearby, and with a sweep of his sleeve, set up a barrier of invisible energy around the VIP room.

Those outside, who had been trying to listen attentively, suddenly found that no sound could escape the room, and some cried out in alarm, “Ah! He’s really at the pinnacle of the postnatal realm!”

“That Wu Hong raped several of my father’s concubines… That night, I was in the midst of a fight with him and ended up wounded—how shameful!”

Wu Hong listened to his simple account, but was deeply shocked. The impostor had truly wrought havoc, committing all manner of evil and laying it at Wu Hong’s feet.

Looking at the man’s plain attire, Wu Hong realized he was actually a scion of wealth, disguised as a commoner while studying under masters. No wonder his ruggedness was tinged with nobility.

“Come, brother! Drink and cast a thousand worries behind you!” The man called out heartily, seized another jar, and drank deeply.

As the two conversed and drank—

“Brother! I’m back! Where are you?” A thunderous voice penetrated the energy barrier and rang in their ears.

Some martial folk had their eardrums nearly split, about to curse aloud, but when they saw the speaker, their words died on their lips.

Wu Hong looked downstairs and saw a man built like a black tower, his chest muscles rising high, his face fierce and intimidating, his height matching that of the man across from him. In his hand was a black iron wolf-toothed club, studded with coldly gleaming spikes.

“Mang Mang! Brother!” Wu Hong instantly recognized him—the giant he had met at the Huang residence, whose intellect was childlike and whose name was Mang Mang.

The burly man heard the call, his eyes brightened, and he laughed heartily, “Brother, you’re here! I searched so long for you. Why didn’t you call me when you went to fight that Wu Hong?”

Hearing the voice from the second floor, the burly man was delighted. He didn’t care about decorum; he pressed his feet down and jumped upward with force, the stone slabs on the ground cracking under the immense power.

His massive figure landed on the second floor with a boom, nearly collapsing the wooden stairs.

Mang Mang was so tall that the doorframe above the VIP room was smashed to pieces by his steel-hard head, wood chips flying.

“Brother, who are you drinking with…” Mang Mang entered the room, about to ask who his brother was drinking with, but his words stopped when he saw Wu Hong.

“Brother, who is he? He looks familiar somehow!” Mang Mang abruptly changed the subject, scratching his head with one hand.

“Mang Mang, don’t be rude. This is the young hero Hong Wu!” The burly man frowned, then smiled.

Mang Mang saw the wine jars on the floor, laughed loudly, and slapped Wu Hong’s shoulder with a big hand, saying, “Kid, you’re so skinny and short, but you can drink! Not bad! You look a lot like a friend of mine.”

Wu Hong’s body trembled from the slap. He could easily have dodged, but that would have been discourteous, so he endured the force.

He was truly startled inwardly. Several months had passed in the microcosm of the Book of Heaven, while more than two years had elapsed outside. Mang Mang’s strength had soared to the marrow-refining realm, and his brute force seemed even more terrifying.