Everyone knows deep down whether they won or lost; it's just that some people, for the sake of saving face or because their character is thick-skinned as a dead duck, refuse to admit it.
Nie Yun has none of those dirty hang-ups. Even though Chang Baifeng's people were smoothing things over, he felt there was no need for it.
Losing isn't scary—the scary thing is not daring to face failure. Self-deception breeds defects in the heart for a cultivator who walks the path of defying the heavens.
Nie Yun believes his path of cultivation can have potholes and mud, but he'll never allow self-deceit.
He clasped his hands, saluted, smiled, then finally turned to pull the wine gourd from his waist, yanked out the stopper, and poured a big mouthful of fragrant liquor down his throat, the spicy, mellow, hot and cold sensations mixing together in an instant.
"Hoo—!"
