"Master, you really brought so much food… it's like a feast," Liu Jinyuan said with a gentle smile, though his eyes were glued to the spread on Alex's picnic blanket.
The red wine in the glass goblets gave everything an air of elegance.
In modern times, such glasses were common enough, but here, in this old world, they were priceless treasures.
"If you want to eat, sit down," Alex said warmly, easily reading the cousins' thoughts from their hungry expressions. With a flick of his hands behind his back, he produced two more goblets, along with bowls and cutlery.
Curious, Lin Yueru edged closer, peering behind Alex.
To her shock, there was nothing there—his hands were empty. Yet every time he brought them forward, another item appeared as if conjured from thin air.
"Hey, Alex, are you using some kind of magic trick?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"Yes, Master, we both saw it," Liu Jinyuan chimed in, sipping delicately from his goblet of wine. "Your hands were empty, but somehow you keep pulling things out. Where is it all coming from?"
Alex chuckled. "Who said I didn't bring anything? I packed enough supplies to last me a year—food, clothes, everything. But… let's just say I have a little trick. Call it magic, if you like. Ever heard of the saying about fitting Mount Sumeru into a mustard seed?"
Liu Jinyuan's eyes widened in realization. "So that's it! No wonder you looked like you had nothing with you, yet you can bring out so many treasures!"
Lin Yueru, however, frowned in confusion. "What does that even mean? Mount Sumeru inside a mustard seed?"
Patiently, Liu Jinyuan explained, "It's an old saying—imagine the largest mountain being contained in something as small as a seed. In other words, limitless storage in the tiniest of spaces."
Understanding dawned on Lin Yueru, followed quickly by irritation. "So you did have this magic trick all along? And you just watched while my cousin and I broke our backs hauling bags?"
Alex rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You're sitting here now, eating my food and drinking my wine, and you're still complaining?"
Lin Yueru fumed, cheeks flushed. She felt like she'd been played for a fool—sweating under heavy baggage while he, with his hidden trick, hadn't lifted a finger.
"Hahaha, wine!"
Just as Lin Yueru was about to speak, a booming laugh split the air. A figure descended from above, landing heavily on the grass. With a lazy gesture of his hand, a massive wine gourd shrank to normal size and swung neatly back onto his waist.
The man looked to be in his late forties, maybe fifties. His clothes were disheveled, his beard unkempt, and his face carried the flush of a perpetual buzz. A longsword was strapped across his back, and the wine gourd at his waist clinked lightly as he moved. Despite his slovenly appearance, there was something wild and unrestrained about him—half tipsy, half untouchable.
"Heh, fine goblets, fine wine…" His eyes locked instantly on the red wine in Alex's glass, glittering like a predator who'd found prey. Without hesitation, he reached out to snatch it.
A swordsman who's also a drunk? Alex thought, amused. He shifted his wrist just slightly, pulling the glass out of reach at the last moment.
"Oh? You've got some reflexes, kid." The man grinned, clearly impressed. Even half-drunk, he could tell Alex wasn't ordinary.
"You… are you Master Mo?" Alex asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied the stranger.
The man blinked, then let out a laugh. "Well, look at that—you actually recognized me?"
"It really is him… the Drunken Sword Immortal," Alex murmured, confirmation settling in. Of all the people to stumble across, fate had handed him this eccentric swordsman.
"Since you know me, then you must also know one thing—I never pass up good wine." He rattled the now-empty gourd at his hip. "I've been dry for a while, and the scent of your wine practically dragged me down here. How about it? Spare me a drink."
Alex hesitated for only a moment. This was the kind of man worth befriending—both for the sheer unpredictability of it and for the chance to connect with the sword sects he'd been curious about.
"Meeting is fate," Alex said with a polite smile. "Please, help yourself." He gestured at the half-empty bottle of red wine on the blanket.
"Now that's more like it!" The Drunken Sword Immortal chuckled heartily, snatched up the bottle, and drank straight from it.
He smacked his lips and frowned. "Sweet… but not much kick. Like something ladies would sip at a banquet. Disappointing."
Alex grinned knowingly. "You want something stronger? I've got just the thing."
He reached into his pack and produced a bottle of modern white liquor—clear, sharp, and nearly 50% alcohol. In this world, it was practically firewater.
The swordsman's eyes gleamed. "The bottle's beautiful. Let's see if the drink's worthy." With a casual swipe of his finger, he sliced the bottleneck clean off, glass edges smooth as a mirror. Then, tilting it back, he downed mouthful after mouthful without pause.