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Chapter 20: Ancient Wine
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 02:17:56 +0000 UTCMidnight had claimed the imperial capital, shrouding it in a cloak of shadows and secrets. For Wei Yao, following Wei Feng through the twisting, silent alleys of the artisan district, it was like walking through another world. She wore a simple dark robe and a black silk mask that covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her golden eyes exposed to the night. Anonymity was a strange sensation: a mixture of terror and a freedom so dizzying it made it hard to breathe normally.
They arrived at what appeared to be an abandoned tea warehouse, its door flanked by two figures that were little more than concentrations of darkness.
"Password," growled one of the shadows, his voice like gravel scraping over stone.
Wei Feng didn’t answer. He simply held up the silver invitation. The card gleamed faintly in the light of a distant moon, and the shadows stepped aside, opening the door.
"This place..." Wei Yao whispered, her voice barely a breath of air as they entered, "feels dangerous."
The interior was a cavern of contained power. The air was thick, smelling of exotic spices, expensive incense, and the crackling energy of dozens of powerful cultivators gathered in one place. Red lanterns hung from the high ceiling, casting a dim, conspiratorial light on masked and hooded figures.
Wei Feng laughed softly. His hand found the curve of her waist, a firm, reassuring touch that was, at the same time, shamelessly possessive.
"Danger is just a spice, my shy little 'Yue'er'," he whispered in her ear, using the nickname they had agreed upon. "It helps the simple pleasures taste better. Relax and enjoy the flavor."
She shivered, not from fear, but from the proximity of his breath.
"What if someone recognizes me?"
"No one will dare to look for too long," he answered with absolute calm. "In a place like this, curiosity is a fatal disease. Besides, you're with me."
The way he said it, as if his mere presence were the only shield she would ever need, sent a warmth spreading through her chest.
"Friend Feng, you finally made it!" a familiar voice exclaimed.
Fatty Meng pushed his way through the crowd, his sweaty face gleaming under the red light of the lanterns.
"The room is full of wolves and sharks tonight! And they all smell the same blood!"
"Calm down, Meng. Wolves can be tamed, and sharks can be caught," Wei Feng said, using the "Feng" alias they had agreed upon. He gestured toward Wei Yao. "Allow me to introduce Yue'er, a... protégée of mine. It's her first time at a night market. She's a bit shy."
Wei Yao bowed her head, the mask hiding her blush at the lie. Fatty Meng watched her with a spark of curiosity in his eyes, but he quickly disguised it with a charming smile.
"A pleasure, Miss Yue'er! Any friend of Brother Feng is a guest of honor. Don't you worry, you're in the safest, and at the same time, most dangerous place in the capital! A marvelous paradox! Come, come, I've saved you excellent seats. With a good view and, most importantly, near the appetizer tray."
He led them to a small private balcony overlooking the main stage. It was perfect: secluded, but with a clear view of everything.
"Enjoy the show," Meng said with a bow before disappearing. "And may the gods of commerce be with us all!"
An auctioneer with a syrupy voice and a smile that didn't reach his eyes stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome, esteemed masters, ladies, and gentlemen! Welcome to the Crescent Moon Auction, where secrets have a price and treasures seek a new destiny!"
The auction began.
"The first lot!" the auctioneer announced. "A fragment of the 'Crushing Mountain Palm' technique from the Purple Cloud Dynasty! Bidding starts at fifty thousand gold coins!"
"Brute force technique," Wei Feng whispered as he took a candied date from the basket they had been served. "For idiots with more muscle than brain. Boring."
"Next lot! The egg of a Winged Serpent from the Misty Swamps! A spirit beast of immense potential! Bidding starts at one hundred and fifty thousand!"
"Too much responsibility," Wei Feng commented, chewing the date. "You have to feed it, train it, clean up after it... It's like having a child. An ugly, scaly child. I'd rather have a dog."
Wei Yao gave him a discreet stomp on the foot under the table.
"Stop stealing my dates."
"They're low quality," he retorted. "I'm doing you a favor by reducing your stock. The glaze uses clover honey. An amateur's mistake."
"I like them."
"You have an unrefined palate. That's another point we'll have to address in your lessons."
As they bickered in whispers, the auction continued. Prices soared to astronomical figures. A sword humming with Yin energy was sold for half a million coins to the Pavilion of Shadows. The Black Cauldron Sect bought a rare thousand-year-old herb for an even greater sum. The tension in the room was palpable. Wei Feng, however, seemed completely uninterested. His seemingly lazy eyes scanned his true rivals: the Elder with the crow mask and the silent figure from the Pavilion of Shadows.
Fighting these fanatics in a bidding war... Wei Feng thought with an internal sigh. How exhausting. How vulgar. What a waste of energy. Gold is for people who don't know how to negotiate. There are more... elegant ways to get what one wants.
He gestured to Fatty Meng, who was at the edge of the stage, sweating profusely. Meng approached their balcony.
"Yes, Friend Feng? Need more wine? Perhaps some lamb skewers? They're excellent!"
"Meng, my dear friend," Wei Feng said quietly, his tone now devoid of all laziness, "tell me, is your job to sell these items to the highest bidder, or to maximize the profits for your mysterious and sweaty 'partners'?"
Meng blinked, confused.
"Well... to maximize profits, of course. Though tonight is going to be a slaughter! These monsters would pay anything!"
"Exactly. They'd pay anything in gold. Gold is a dead resource. I'm offering you a river," Wei Feng said. "A river of wealth that will flow for a decade. And most importantly, I'm offering you a quiet night."
Curiosity overcame the panic on Meng's face. "What are you talking about?"
"Go and tell your bosses, the real sharks behind the curtain, that the man who offered you wine from his own gourd at the imperial banquet wants to propose a private deal. A deal that doesn't involve coins. Tell them it's about the ancient wine lot. And tell them that if they are intelligent businessmen, and not just thugs with money, they will see me. Now."
The authority in Wei Feng's voice was absolute. Meng nodded, his eyes wide, and disappeared. Minutes later, he returned.
"Follow me," he whispered, his face a mixture of awe and terror.
He led them down a hidden corridor to a stark back room. A hooded figure, whose aura was as deep and silent as a bottomless well, was already waiting for them.
"You have requested an audience," the figure said, their voice distorted by some kind of artifact, sounding like silk brushing against metal. "Speak."
Wei Feng stepped forward. "I haven't come to request. I've come to propose an exchange."
"The only exchange we are accepting tonight is for gold," the figure replied.
"A failure of vision," Wei Feng said calmly. "Gold is for paying soldiers. What I offer is what creates generals."
He reached into his robe and pulled out the same wine gourd his niece had given him. He uncorked the seal. The aroma that was released, a complex blend of fermented fruit, earth, and a pure, vibrant energy, filled the small room. Using a pipette, he drew a single drop and deposited it into a tasting cup.
"Taste it."
The hooded figure hesitated. Then, slowly, they raised the cup. There was a moment of absolute silence as they tasted it. Wei Yao saw the hand holding the cup tremble violently. A choked sound, half shock, half disbelief, escaped from under the hood.
"This... this is..." the distorted voice stammered.
"Yes, it is," Wei Feng said. "My offer is simple. Withdraw the three jars of ancient wine from the auction. They are mine. No noise, no bidding war. In exchange, your partners will receive one bottle of my personal wine, of this very quality, every year for the next ten years." He paused, letting the offer sink in. "A continuous supply of an elixir that can buy the loyalty gold cannot. Ten years of advantage over your rivals. All of that, in exchange for three jars of a treasure that can only be drunk once and is, let's be honest, inferior to what you've just tasted."
The hooded figure stood motionless. The logic was flawless. The value was incalculable.
"I accept," the voice finally said. The deal was done.
When they returned to their balcony, Wei Yao looked at her uncle in a new light. He was a pirate, yes, but one who used diplomacy and true value as his cannons, not brute force. Wei Feng, for his part, looked immensely pleased.
A few moments later, Fatty Meng walked onto the stage, his face a mask of professional regret.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed masters," he announced, his voice ringing with false solemnity. "I must make an announcement. Due to an exceptional private arrangement, reached with a connoisseur of truly incalculable taste and resources, lot thirteen, the 'Jars of the Forgotten Era,' has been withdrawn by our consignors at their request."
A roar of outrage shook the room.
"MASTER MENG!" shouted the Elder in the crow mask, leaping to his feet. "UNACCEPTABLE! THIS IS AN AFFRONT! We have traveled a thousand leagues for that divine nectar! We demand an explanation!"
"Our patrons are... displeased," hissed the voice from the Pavilion of Shadows. "An explanation would be... wise."
Meng held up his hands. "My esteemed masters, I beg your sincerest apologies! The decision was unexpected! But to compensate you, my partners have authorized me to present a final, surprise lot! One so rare we dared not include it in the catalog for fear of starting a war!"
That calmed their tempers. Meng gestured. Two servants walked onto the stage with a sealed jade box. They opened it. Inside, on a black velvet cushion, lay an ancient bamboo scroll.
"The 'Decree of Twin Soul Fusion'," Meng announced. "A dual cultivation manual from the Twilight Dynasty, detailing methods for two cultivators to merge their souls, their bodies, and their Qi to reach unimaginable realms of power... and pleasure..."
The Elder of the Black Cauldron Sect snorted. "Heretical arts!"
But in other corners, three elders from minor sects known for their dual cultivation practices leaned forward, their eyes shining with a feverish greed.
Wei Feng, who had been about to leave, froze. His gaze became incredibly sharp.
The wine, he thought, was a whim. A luxury. But this... this is different. This is philosophy. The essence of my Dao, codified. The missing piece.
He felt Wei Yao's questioning gaze. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his voice a low, wicked purr.
"Forget about leaving, my little 'Yue'er.' The appetizer is over. Now they're serving the main course." He paused, his breath warm on her neck. "Imagine the doors this would open for us. The manual must describe hundreds of ancient positions for the union of soul and body... We'll have to study them all, of course. Thoroughly. One by one. Strictly for the sake of your cultivation."
Wei Yao blushed intensely and gave him a useless nudge with her elbow, but she leaned into him slightly, a mixture of shame and a dark, secret excitement running through her.
The room was now divided. The orthodox practitioners muttered with disdain, but the three elders from the dual cultivation sects glared at each other like wolves. A new war was about to begin.
And this time, Wei Feng was one of the players. He had recovered his lazy smile, but now there was a predatory gleam in his eyes. The real prize had just appeared.
Fatty Meng, from the stage, saw the new tension, saw the look in Feng's eyes, and his own smile turned into a shark's. He struck his gavel.
"For this one-of-a-kind treasure, a path to power through pleasure," he announced, his voice filling the silence, "the bidding will start at... one million spirit gold coins!"
The sound of the gavel echoed, kicking off the real auction. And Wei Feng had no intention of leaving without his new textbook.
