Chapter Twenty-One: Fine Wine Needs No Bush

Staggering along, Mo Fan and Xiahou Ji had journeyed through towering mountains for several days. Finally, one afternoon, they entered a small village near the western slopes of Panlong Mountain.

The village lay in a low-lying basin, surrounded on all sides by rugged peaks.

After making inquiries, Mo Fan learned that the so-called Western Ridge Panlong lay precisely to the north and south of this village, facing the sunny aspect.

Along the way, Mo Fan grew to understand much about Xiahou Ji. When faced with this person, Mo Fan often found himself at a loss for words.

Xiahou Ji taught him many things during their travels and spoke freely about the world, deepening Mo Fan’s understanding.

Yet, there was one unyielding condition: Xiahou Ji insisted on testing their skills against each other.

This contest was not about trivial matters but centered on Mo Fan’s mastery of the Shadow Kill Fist technique.

He wished to see the old madman of legend manifest before his eyes.

For this reason, Mo Fan had no choice but to agree to face him in a battle of superior martial skill.

Under Xiahou Ji’s guidance, Mo Fan spent several days honing his abilities, finally experiencing the power his mentor spoke of—the ability of the great to stride a hundred paces in a single step, and of sages to cleave mountains and rivers with a single sword.

Though he was not yet able to condense spiritual energy to carve out his own wild domain, Mo Fan believed that day was not far off.

Moreover, he sensed that this so-called Wild Thunder Domain, as named by Ling Yazi, was no ordinary realm.

What events might unfold when the time came to open such a domain remained unknown.

This thought weighed heavily on Mo Fan’s mind.

Still, as the saying goes, the boat will find the pier, and the cart will find the road before the mountain.

He resolved to wait until he found a way to open his wild domain before worrying further.

Before their arrival, merely the thought of creating his own wild domain had filled Mo Fan with excitement, but now, as the moment drew near, he felt waves of fear and apprehension.

Unlike Mo Fan’s melancholic mood, Xiahou Ji wasted no time upon entering the village, immediately setting off in search.

He claimed that the moment he stepped in, a rich and intoxicating aroma greeted him.

As the old saying goes: fine wine needs no wide street!

Sure enough, after Xiahou Ji’s insistence, they found a humble wine shop in the village.

The shop was modest, with a worn wooden door bearing only a couplet.

The horizontal plaque read: “Immortal Quality Wine.”

The first line: “Master Wang brews the wine, patrons come and go in the workshop.”

The second line: “Taste the immortal quality on earth, fine wine fears no hidden alley.”

Although the couplet seemed asymmetrical, it sparked endless debate among passersby.

Within this simple, nearly dilapidated wine shop, a lively crowd gathered.

Though it was still early afternoon, the place was already packed.

People played finger-guessing games while drinking; drunkards practiced boxing, and some lively souls occasionally sang folk tunes, drawing rounds of applause.

“You there, who can tell me what the most sensational event in the world today is? I, Niu Batian, am willing to pay in crystal stones for tonight’s wine,” a drunken man shouted vigorously as Mo Fan and Xiahou Ji entered the shop.

Exchanging a glance, the two ignored the man.

They found an empty table and sat down.

Calling over a shop assistant, they ordered a pot of aged wine. Xiahou Ji casually handed over his small flask, repeatedly urging the assistant to fill it with good wine.

The two then sat back to savor what was hailed as the finest earthly delicacy.

Mo Fan rarely drank; he nursed his glass for a long time without finishing it.

His bright eyes flicked around, taking in every patron in the shop.

Niu Batian, growing tipsy, spoke boldly, urging everyone to discuss the greatest news of the day.

Unfortunately, despite the crowded room, no one stood forward.

“Damn it!” Niu Batian cursed cheerfully under the influence, stumbling onto the table and shouting, “Since everyone’s holding back, let me be the first to tell you!”

“Who’s the greatest today? None other than the three great families of Dongyang Commandery—those are people us poor commoners could never hope to associate with. But have you heard? Just days ago, the three families summoned nine villages and eighteen hamlets to issue a bounty on a boy named Mo Fan.”

“The Wang family head even declared at the gathering that whoever brings back Mo Fan’s head will receive a pill capable of helping open a wild domain. Moreover, they will be recommended by the great families to join the major factions in Ganzhou Prefecture as a disciple.”

“To enter the major factions of Ganzhou Prefecture is the highest honor. Even just being a runner for the lowliest sects in Dongyang Commandery would bring a smile to our lips.”

“So, tell me, isn’t this the biggest news of the day?”

Niu Batian beamed with pride, leapt down from the table, and drained his cup in one gulp.

“Haha, Brother Niu, that’s old news,” said a handsome young man sitting at a nearby table.

He raised his own cup even more arrogantly, his eyes brimming with disdain for the crowd.

Downing his drink, he sneered, “I am from Dongyang Commandery. The second young master of the Ning family told me that Mo Fan once demanded from their clan a treasure map of the hundred thousand mountains. Judging by his demeanor, he must be searching those mountains for a spiritual herb to cure the poison afflicting him.”

Pausing for effect, the youth glanced around, noting the attention he had garnered. Casually pouring another drink, he moved toward the center of the shop.

He walked slowly, but to all eyes, his steps seemed as tiny as an ant’s.

The crowd grew restless, eager to hear more.

The youth knew the moment was ripe.

Yet, he spoke with care.

His silence would mean nothing, but his words could astonish—and achieve the effect he desired.

“Friends, let me ask: among the hundred thousand mountains, besides the towering Wraith Peak, where else could one find such a miraculous treasure?” The youth downed a cup of strong liquor and proclaimed passionately, “Western Ridge Panlong! Have you heard of it?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Mo Fan will surely head to Panlong Mountain, for it is known as a land of unparalleled opportunity,” the youth declared with fervor.

“Indeed, how could I have forgotten? That fellow suffers from a fatal poison. Though he somehow obtained a spiritual herb atop Wraith Peak and temporarily suppressed the toxin, curing such an illness is no simple matter.”

“Big brother, just these past two days, Panlong Mountain has shown strange phenomena. Some elders say it’s the auspicious sign of purple qi rising from the east, meaning a noble guest is descending upon Panlong Mountain.”

“That’s right, if you hadn’t said it, I’d have forgotten—just days ago, the sky was indeed veiled in purple clouds, shrouding the entire Panlong Mountain. It’s a sign of a divine artifact’s birth.”

“Yes, we’ve met many people recently who seem to be heading toward Panlong Mountain seeking that divine treasure.”

“In that case, Mo Fan should already be there,” a burly man said, downing a large bowl of wine. “Come on, lads, once we finish our drinks, we set off for Panlong Mountain. Even if we can’t seize the divine artifact, we can at least scavenge something and, perhaps, claim a head or two.”

“Agreed!”

The dozen or so patrons all responded, downing their strong liquor and striding out of the wine shop.

“Hmph, a bunch of fools. Do you really think Mo Fan’s head will be so easy to take? I’ve heard that though he hasn’t opened a wild domain, he’s capable of matching experts at the Wànxiàng stage of the Body Refinement realm, and has even fought undefeated against a novice realm master. Such a prodigy would hardly be so easily captured,” said a refined-looking youth, flicking open a delicate hand fan adorned with an embroidered needle.

Judging by his demeanor, he was no trivial figure.

Inside the wine shop, discussion of Mo Fan’s affairs grew heated.

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner, Mo Fan and Xiahou Ji drank their wine in calm silence, their only concern the appearance of purple qi over Panlong Mountain.

“Heh, boy, your fame spreads quickly. Even before you’ve done much, so many are already after you. Looks like you’ll have to keep your distance, or one day you might lose your head and not even know how it happened,” Xiahou Ji teased Mo Fan with a pale face.

Unfazed, Mo Fan had something important to ask.

Ignoring Xiahou Ji’s jests, he raised his cup and walked toward the center of the wine shop.