The old man thought he was hearing things wrong. Was his mind starting to give out? There was no way he had heard what he thought he heard.

However, humans truly are weak. Even though all his rationality told him there wouldn't be salvation for him after the mistake he had committed, he was unconsciously searching for a different ending to this event.

A glimmer of hope began to bubble deep in his heart.

He slowly raises his head, trying to keep his movements as slow and unnoticeable as possible. Once his posture is back to normal, he takes a deep breath and carefully opens his eyes.

It takes a while for his eyes to adjust after having them closed for so long. When his vision finally clears, he sees the young man right in front of him, inspecting the bottle and seemingly trying to figure out its contents.

Before he even has time to adjust to the situation, the young man's voice sounds once again.

"Old man, what are you waiting for? When are you going to bring me a mug? How long am I going to have to wait? Is this the quality of service you show your clients? No wonder no one comes by anymore."

A vein popped on the old man's forehead once again.

Just a few moments ago, he had been petrified, fearing for his life, unable to move. And yet, with just a few words, that bastard had almost made him lose his cool. He had nearly jumped over the counter to beat him up.

'How is this guy a cultivator? I've never seen anything like this. Act more like a cultivator if you actually are one, damn it. This is just unfair to us mortals who have to deal with you,' the old man thinks.

For some reason, his earlier dread was gone. He didn't know why, but he wasn't particularly interested in investigating.

The old man straightened his clothes and responded to the young man's inquiry.

"There's no need for a mug. This bottle contains a very special liquor. It was made using fruit of the highest quality, brought from the rich soils of the countryside, honey collected from a sunshine bee comb, and water from the origin point of the Clear Mind springs.

This bottle was designed specifically to protect its contents from any outside impurities. Any contact with the air would reduce the purity of the mix. Serving it in a mug would simply ruin it."

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Lao looked at the bottle again, seemingly intrigued by the old man's sudden praise of its contents.

He glanced at the old man and shook his head in disapproval.

"I thought you were better than that, old man. Making up fake stories like that. Keep it up, and I'll have to call the guards and tell them you're trying to swindle your customers."

The old man remained unshaken this time.

"All doubts will be dispelled once you actually try it. By all means, dig right in, sir."

He wore a warm smile, but a smugness was starting to rise from within him.

'Let's see if you can keep that mouth running after a single sip. You'll be so thoroughly addicted that you'll be getting on your knees and begging for more.'

Lao followed the old man's instructions, this time without any additional quips or banter.

First, he placed the bottle under his nose, trying to catch its aroma. He rotated the bottle, attempting to get the smell inside to swirl and escape through the opening.

He then took a deep breath, trying to capture the essence of the liquor now spreading through the air.

'Hmmm...'

It smelled like... alcohol?

That was all he could really smell.

In his previous life, Lao had never been very interested in alcohol. He preferred to keep his head clear at all times to make the most of every possible situation. As for the previous Lao, he never even came close to a bottle of booze, fearing it might affect his cultivation.

Long story short, Lao had no clue what he was doing. He was simply mimicking what he had seen "wine experts" do on TV.

After the old man's extensive description of the liquor, it felt right to show the proper respect to the concoction in front of him. The satisfied expression on the old man's face only reinforced that notion.

"This smell... Indeed. All I can smell is dust. How long has this been lying in your backyard, old man? Two centuries?"

Ignoring the angry scowl on the old man's face, Lao proceeds to bring the bottle to his lips.

He takes a small sip, trying to follow the guidelines set by the wine experts he had watched in his previous world.

An interesting flavor envelops his taste buds—dense and complex.

However, before he has time to inspect it further, a fiery warmth suddenly surges through his mouth, engulfing it in flames. It spreads like wildfire, moving from his mouth, down his throat, and all the way to his stomach.

The only thing he could distinctly tell from that sip was its alcoholic content. That sensation came in like a bulldozer, overshadowing everything else.

Lao wondered how those wine experts back in his old world were able to distinguish the various individual flavors in alcoholic drinks. He couldn't even identify one of the fruits used in making that liquor, much less the types of wood or sweeteners.

He had developed a newfound respect for that profession. It clearly required a long training journey to attune one’s taste buds to clearly decipher and distinguish flavors, as well as some mental training to avoid being overwhelmed by the rush of alcohol.

As he was reflecting on his experience, Lao sensed an eager pair of eyes scrutinizing his every move.

The old man remained in the same position as before, with both hands behind him and his back slightly hunched.

Even though he was trying to hide it, a smugness was evident in his eyes. He was completely confident in the quality of his drink.

This was somewhat troubling for Lao. His tasting skills were simply not refined enough to truly assess the quality of what he had just drunk.

As he deliberated on how to react and address the eager old man, a warmth ignited once again in his stomach.