At one point, Dulin thought that the place he lived in the countryside was the worst and most miserable place he would ever live in. The feeling of six brothers crowded together could make people feel ecstatic. Every day, besides working, all they did was work. They were often so exhausted that they fell asleep as soon as they hit the bed. The unclean bedroom emitted a faint smell of foot odor and sweat for 365 days a year, causing sisters to refuse to enter after visiting once.

However, twenty people managed to squeeze into this room with an area of only thirty square meters! Besides body odor and foot odor, there was also a strong scent that could cause hormonal changes in human bodies but couldn't be described clearly. The yellowed walls were covered with posters of naked women whose various yellow watermarks dotted here and there.

The toilet was just outside the bedroom door; suffocating urine stench mixed with odors similar to those from rural fertilizer pits filled up the entire bedroom between opening and closing doors.

Lying on a damp bed with thin blankets covered in oil mud gray emitting a sour smell made Dulin prefer freezing rather than covering himself with such obviously terrible bedding.

He slept particularly soundly that night; at midnight he no longer feared warmth but returned home lying on his own bed like before.

When he woke up the next day, he realized where warmth came from -the blackened blanket had been covering him- even without subjective thinking; subconsciousness always found more suitable things for organisms to avoid harm: low temperature damage.

With nausea pushing away smelly blankets without washing or cleaning themselves up first thing in morning time, everyone crowded together towards station platform while carrying goods starting their first shift early morning workday routine again.

There wasn't much difference between today's cargo handling compared to yesterday's familiar tasks. Inside wooden frames were tightly packed boxes containing liquid which shook when walking around, occasionally making glass collision sounds.

"What's inside?," Dulin asked while holding Graff's arm. "It seems like water."

"Water?" Graff sneered at Dulin disdainfully. "Don't you understand that these are all banknotes? Banknotes!" After a while, he whispered: "Don't talk nonsense everywhere; it's all high-proof liquor inside."

Dulin was stunned for a moment and just about to ask more questions when Graff glared at him, swallowing his words back down.

There were some legal provisions in the imperial law regarding the brewing, transportation and sale of alcoholic beverages which strictly prohibited any place from brewing high-proof liquor. According to the law, the alcohol content of all grain-based alcoholic beverages cannot exceed 9%, and wine cannot exceed 13%. If exceeded, they would be considered contraband and needed to be destroyed; manufacturers also had to face punishment.

The reason for such laws was said to be because in divine law, all alcoholic drinks were deemed as filled with demonic energy so clergymen and believers were forbidden from drinking them. At first, the empire did not recognize this interpretation of alcoholic beverages in divine law but later passed this provision after Prince Three drank too much alcohol then quickly died after spitting out black liquid.

Since then, high-proof liquor has become contraband.

If you want to know the fastest and most profitable business in this world, just take a look at law books. The Empire officially prohibits the production and sale of high-proof alcohol, but instead makes it a best-selling product. In addition, with the post-war social transformation still in a low and depressed state, more people need something to quickly numb themselves, among which high-proof alcohol is a good choice.

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On the surface, high-proof alcohol is prohibited from production and sales. However, for the sake of satisfying their wallets, many places are producing and selling them semi-openly or even using steam locomotives for transportation! Almost all goods that rush through the night every day are high-proof alcohol. These wines will be transported by steam locomotives and railways throughout the country for sale to earn huge profits.

There is a phrase coined by people in society that goes "the closer you get to demons, the fuller your pockets", referring to the profits brought about by high-proof alcoholic beverages.

Before dawn breaks, Dulin was thinking about things related to high-proof alcohol while moving goods around. He learned from his dream world that liquor can obtain highly pure ethanol through distillation. Then after blending spices and certain proportions of water together with it would become strong spirits. He didn't know what it felt like when drinking those things called white wine into his mouth but could vaguely guess from others' faces how they tasted.

He was absent-minded Duling work this morning.

At lunchtime he pulled Grav outside of restaurant near railway tracks then looked around before asking him: "Grav，we're brothers right?"

Grav patted his chest,"Of course we are!"

"Good brother，can you tell me how much one bottle of high proof liquor costs? I mean like those bottles we moved early this morning before dawn." Dulin drew on paper as he needed some comparison so he could determine if what he did would make money.

Grav looked like a big guy and was a bit stupid - no smart person would put chili powder in their cigarettes, but he did. However, he was definitely much smarter than what he appeared to be. When Dulin asked this question, he immediately became alert: "What? Do you want to buy one bottle? Listen to me, with your rookie income, at most you can only afford one bottle per month."

"So expensive?" Dulin gasped for breath. He knew that his monthly income could earn him at least five yuan which meant that one bottle of wine equaled his monthly income? The flame in his heart that had long been extinguished was ignited again and his body trembled slightly as a result. Damn it! Every day working like an old dog just worth the price of a bottle of wine? Damn!

Looking at Dulin's crazy eyes, Grav pulled him hard,"What's wrong with you?"

Dulin froze then came back to himself; after all, he was just a sixteen-year-old boy who couldn't hide what was inside even if dreaming about someone else's life. He tried hard to tighten the muscles on his face and finally smiled out loud,"I'm fine，don't worry，I've never felt so good before!"

"By the way，can you tell me how much low-proof alcohol costs per bottle?"

Grav looked around then took Dulin further away from there into some bushes where they squatted down together."Damn it! I know for sure why you're asking about this money-making method using high-proof alcohol diluted with water for sale right？Don't think about this stupid idea anymore because you will lose money doing it. One bottle of low-proof alcohol is only sixty cents while better ones are between eighty or ninety cents; if high-proof alcohol is used instead then losses are guaranteed."

Dulin looked at Grav strangely; His expression changed again and again. After a while, he exhaled and asked,"Can I trust you?"

Grav pulled out a knife over ten centimeters long from somewhere behind his waist which scared Dulin almost to run away. He tightly gripped the blade in his palm then drew it out. Blood gushed out of his hand like water from a pump but there was no change on his face. Then he grabbed Dulin's hand tightly and cut open a wound in the center of his palm,"Are you Gualterian?"

Dulin nodded; he was Gualterian, occupying about fifteen percent of the total population throughout the Empire according to official statistics.

"Your father must not have told you about the tradition of our Gualt people. When we hold fresh blood in our hands, it is the most solemn moment of our lives!" He said as he firmly grasped his own hand that had been cut open and Dulin's hand that had also been cut open. "This is the ceremony of our Gualt people. Whether it's loyalty or friendship, everyone and all gods will bless and supervise it!"

"Now, you can trust me. If I ever betray you one day, I will be punished by the gods, and so will you!"

Dulin looked at their tightly clasped hands for a long time without saying anything. Graff became anxious and touched him lightly, "What are you still thinking about?"

"I...," Dulin looked somewhat aggrieved. "My hand feels numb. Will I die? So much blood has flowed!!"