Chapter 48: Venerable
One hundred fifty cups of wine lined the table, their gray vapors curling into an intoxicating aroma. To most, they smelled identical—but Xia Feng's senses pierced the illusion. Ten were counterfeit.
Of the total, one hundred cups comprised the challenge; the extra fifty were his "Double Card" penalty.
"Quit stalling. They're all the same—just pick one," Yan Xujia snapped, inexplicably irritated by the Spade-Masked man's calm.
"Let him take his time," the withered man chuckled, then turned to Yan Xujia. "You're newly corrupted, right? Can't handle much evil yet. I'll drink twenty; you take ten."
Xia Feng ignored them. He sipped his first cup and frowned. The dilution was pathetic—like a drop of dragon-grade evil essence drowned in an ocean. No flavor at all.
Disappointed, he abandoned savoring and began downing cups in rapid succession. The Qingtong mask, non-corporeal, didn't hinder his consumption.
Eight cups vanished before Yan Xujia and the withered man even registered the threat.
"Attention," Mino interjected. "A ten-cup gap triggers instant forfeit. The loser faces elimination."
Panicked, the duo scrambled to drink.
Yet the Spade Man showed no hesitation—real or fake, each cup met the same fate. No digestion, no pause. Even half-corrupted beings needed intervals to process evil without losing sanity.
"Thirty cups?!" The withered man's hands shook as Xia Feng plowed through them. "You're insane!"
Yan Xujia clutched his forehead after five genuine cups. Whispers slithered into his ears—hissing, giggling. Two counterfeit cups had spared him briefly, but now phantoms clawed at his vision: pallid female corpses with emerald eyes crawling from the bar's shadows.
At forty cups, the clown finally reacted.
"Relax," he assured the withered man. "Pure humans cap at forty—fifth-level spiritual masters, max. Unless he's a Venerable, he's done."
Xia Feng drank the forty-first. Then the forty-second.
"What?!" The withered man's chopsticks clattered to the floor.
Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.
Yan Xujia's mind frayed. Am I dying here? He mechanically gulped his tenth cup. The whispers crescendoed; the corpse-women's fingers brushed his ankles.
"Wait!" The withered man grabbed Xia Feng's wrist. "Brother—no, Master—please stop!"
He'd hit his limit at twenty cups. Thirty-five would obliterate him.
The clown's smirk vanished. "Mr. Spade… are you a Venerable?"
Every Venerable in the empire was accounted for—and none should be in District 51. Yet here was a man drinking seventy cups like water.
Xia Feng set down his cup. "If you think so~"
Mino's detection ability—flawless for centuries—had failed. Only Venerables could cloak themselves so completely.
Damn it. The clown's eye twitched. Another bored god slumming it with mortals?
He recalled "Beiming," a Venerable who'd pretended to be weak thirty years ago, then drank a hundred cups before blinking at the corpses: "Huh? Why'd you all collapse?"
This Spade reeked of the same theatrics.
Xia Feng relished their dread. Misunderstandings work in my favor. He raised his glass. "Shall we continue?"
Mino shook his head. "Rules are absolute. The game ends only when one side dies or goes mad."
The withered man paled. His puppet-body was already destroyed—this death would be final.
THUD.
Yan Xujia lunged, ramming two cups down the withered man's throat. "Die, you fool!" he cackled. "Your death ends this!"
The withered man gagged, eyes bulging as corruption flooded his veins. One minute later, his body melted into a screaming puddle.
"Game concluded." Mino presented a pocket watch to Xia Feng with newfound deference. "Your prize, Honored Guest."
Inside gleamed 2g of Infinite Stone.
"Which elemental stone would you prefer?"
"Water."
A hydro-blue orb joined the treasure. Yet Xia Feng's gaze lingered on the pocket watch itself.
"One question," he said. "Where did this come from?"
Mino froze. His eyes flicked to the clown.
(End of Chapter)