The carriage rattled steadily along the road.
Inside, Qin Ming was still holding onto his role as teacher. His lecture about an "excellent soul master's cultivation" droned on—though nobody even pretended to listen.
Especially because two members were conspicuously missing.
The Shi brothers.
Everyone else silently admired them. It wasn't cowardice to walk beside the carriage. It was survival.
Because inside, Lucien was drunk again.
Ever since the day he nearly caved Yu Tianheng's skull in with one punch, the team had grown even more wary. Other than Ye Lingling and Dugu Yan by his side, everybody else kept a safe distance. The fear was simple: who knew when the drunk would snap?
"Gulp, gulp, gulp—ahhh!"
The loud sound jolted someone awake.
Zhu Zhuqing stirred from the corner of the carriage. As her eyes opened, the first thing she saw was a pair of narrow, hazy eyes and a liquor jar raised in invitation.
"Kitten," Lucien grinned, "want a drink?"
Her glance shifted down. Her arm was bound with fresh gauze. The memory trickled back—Zhu Zhuyun chasing her, blood in the forest, death at her heels… until this drunk had appeared, sword in hand, slaughtering dozens like it was breathing. After that—darkness.
To think she had lost consciousness in such danger made her tremble.
And the man before her—how could she entrust her life to him, of all people? A stranger who lived only for drink?
Her eyes hardened. She sat upright. "I want off this carriage."
"Hiccup—Kitty, the door's welded shut," Lucien said lazily.
She yanked the curtain aside to jump—only to freeze at the sight beyond.
Xingluo City.
Her body turned rigid. The Zhu family's banners flew proudly nearby—the family she had escaped, the prison she had sworn never to return to.
Her blood turned cold.
If Zhu Zhuyun learned she was back in Xingluo City, the assassination attempts would be endless. If she walked the streets alone, she'd be dead within a day.
No. She couldn't go back. She wanted to live.
Gritting her teeth, she lowered the curtain and whispered, "Can I… go with you?"
Lucien's lips curled. He tipped the jar back, swallowed deep, and laughed. "Of course! Come, little kitten. Drink with me!"
"…I don't drink." She turned away quickly, flustered.
Lucien didn't press.
…
…
Later, at the Star Hotel.
The Great Spirit Arena of every city lit up at night, and in Xingluo it was no exception. Qin Ming had taken the Emperor Team to compete that evening, returning with a sense of fragile relief. Lucien hadn't accompanied them.
It was practically the most relaxed he'd felt since this trip started.
Back in the hotel room, Lucien and Zhu Zhuqing sat together.
She studied him closely. All day, she had watched. Not once did he cultivate, not once did he train. All he did was drink. Yet his aura burned with power, and his spirit rings—three purples, one black—defied every known law.
If she held such monstrous rings, would she have to fear Zhu Zhuyun anymore?
She bit her lip, then asked, "…Lucien. How did you get your spirit rings like that?"
His blurred gaze lifted toward her. "Easy. I drank."
"Drank?"
"Otherwise, what else?"
He lifted the jar.
"Gulp, gulp, gulp…"
Zhu Zhuqing's brows furrowed. Impossible. How could wine grant strength? Yet… the proof sat in front of her. The monster who had saved her.
"Kitten, I can see it. You've got a lot weighing on your heart. Just try it. Get drunk, and forget your sorrow."
"Try… it?"
His tone was careless, yet somehow reassuring. Against her better judgment, she reached toward the jar.
…
The night deepened.
"Haha, wine's good! Damn good!" Lucien swayed, grinning ear to ear.
Across from him, cheeks flushed, Zhu Zhuqing raised her chin stubbornly. "Lucien, do you look down on me? I won't sip from your leftovers. Give me a full jar!"
"Good kitten! Not bad at drinking." Lucien whooped, sliding her an altar.
"Gulp, gulp…"
Before long, the two swayed together like comrades-in-arms.
"Lucien." For the first time, Zhu Zhuqing's cold expression cracked as she stared into her cup. "Since I was young, my family had no warmth. From the moment I was born, my elder sister and I were destined as enemies. Only one of us could live…"
"Gulp, gulp…"
"And later—when the pressure grew too much, that coward—my betrothed—ran away. Alone. Left me to face it. Do you dare believe it? He abandoned me, had no spine at all. Not a man."
Lucien leaned into her shoulder, half-slurring, half-laughing. "Doesn't matter. You've got wine. You've got me. Stop thinking so hard, little cat. Just get drunk!"
"…Cheers."
…
When Qin Ming returned that night, he stopped dead in the doorway.
Too difficult. Far too difficult.
Another drunkard.
Now the team had two.
All the joy of their victories that day collapsed in an instant.
And worse—their performance had drawn the notice of Xingluo Royal Academy. A challenge had been issued: an exchange match at the Great Spirit Arena in three days.
Qin Ming's head throbbed. He knew the truth—the Xingluo Royal Team was stronger. Losing would disgrace the Heaven Dou Empire. But refusing wasn't an option either.
In a moment of desperation, Qin Ming approached Lucien. He placed two jars of his finest wine—purchased at painful cost—before him.
Lucien sniffed, pleased. "Good! Nice wine."
"Lucien," Qin Ming said carefully, "three days from now we must fight Xingluo Royal Academy. For the honor of our academy and our empire. Will you… take part?"
Lucien frowned. "Spirit fights? Hmph. Too many rules. Too boring. They treat you like a performing monkey. I'd rather fight properly."
Qin Ming's lips twitched. He begged and bargained until finally—finally—Lucien relented.
"Fine. Fight. Beat them up. Easy."
And then—
"Fight them!" slurred Zhu Zhuqing, suddenly sitting up straight, wine jar in hand. "Lucien, beat them all!"
Qin Ming paled. Two lunatics now. Two mighty lunatics.
Lucien chuckled, blurry eyes softening as he looked at her. "…Alright. For the sake of drinking with me today, I'll help you teach those bastards."
Outside, Yu Tianheng grabbed Qin Ming.
"Teacher Qin! Are you really letting him fight?" he whispered hoarsely.
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?!" Tianheng practically shook him. "When he's drunk, can he even tell friend from foe?!"
The words landed on Qin Ming like a hammer. He froze. He hadn't considered that.
But it was too late. If Lucien overheard dissent, he might take offense—and one punch could lay him out again.
Qin Ming plastered on a stiff smile. "Ahem… You'll just have to, ah, pay extra attention during the match. Consider it a… test of discipline."
Yu Tianheng stared at him. His lips trembled. "…"
This fcking test might be the death of us…*