Chapter 9: A Drunken Confession and a Fateful Catch
Alex arrived at the serene lake, the setting sun painting the water in fiery hues. He found a secluded spot near the shore, away from the main sect. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine. With a focused thought, he pulled his shed from his Fisherman's Satchel, materializing it near the water's edge. He then walked onto the small, weathered wooden porch, pulling out his Void Fishing Rod, ready to begin his month of intensive "fishing."
Just as he was about to cast, a gruff voice cut through the quiet. "Hey! That's my spot, kid."
Alex looked up. Standing a few feet away was an older man, perhaps in his fifties, with a grizzled beard and a perpetually squinting eye. He held a well-worn fishing rod and, true to the description, a large, intricately carved wine gourd hung from his belt. He reeked faintly of fermented grapes.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Your spot? Last I checked, lakes are pretty big. Plenty of room for two."
The old man scoffed, taking a swig from his gourd. "Tradition, boy. This is Old Man Yuan's spot. Been fishing here for decades."
Alex sighed. He wasn't in the mood for a territorial dispute. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of the Demon Boar meat. An idea sparked. "Alright, Old Man Yuan. How about this? I've got some freshly butchered Demon Boar meat. You bring the wine, and we call it a truce. We can share the spot, and dinner."
Old Man Yuan's squinted eye widened slightly. He sniffed the air, a flicker of interest in his gaze. "Demon Boar, you say? And you can actually cook it?"
"I'm a pretty good cook," Alex confirmed with a casual shrug.
A slow grin spread across Old Man Yuan's face, revealing a few missing teeth. "Deal, boy! Never thought I'd see the day someone offered me Demon Boar without a three-day effort. Name's Yuan. What's yours?"
"Alex," he replied, returning the grin.
Soon, a small fire crackled by the lake, Alex expertly roasting thick slices of Demon Boar meat over his Qi flame. The rich, savory aroma filled the air, drawing appreciative grunts from Old Man Yuan, who poured generous amounts of a potent, fiery spirit from his gourd.
They ate and drank, the tough boar meat tenderized to perfection, its subtle Qi invigorating them. The wine was strong, warming Alex from the inside out, loosening his tongue. Old Man Yuan, true to his word, was a seasoned drinker, his face growing redder but his eyes still sharp.
As the last of the meat was devoured and the wine gourd was nearly empty, Old Man Yuan sighed contentedly, leaning back to gaze at the starlit lake. "So, Alex," he slurred slightly, his voice thick with wine and wistfulness, "every cultivator here has a dream. Some chase the Dao, some seek to forge divine weapons, some... well, some just want to marry the sect master's daughter." He chuckled, a bittersweet sound. "Me? I had a dream to marry a woman, a beautiful girl from the Fang Clan. But her family... they deemed me too humble, too common for their noble blood."
He took another long swig, his eyes glinting with a stubborn fire. "They said I wasn't worthy. Hmph! I swore then, I'd become stronger than any ancestor of their proud clan. Strong enough to pluck her from their grasp, to claim her as my own. That's my dream, boy. To pull her free, like the greatest catch of my life." His voice trailed off into a low, determined mumble, lost in drunken reverie.
Alex listened, a strange sense of calm washing over him despite the wine. He looked at the vast, star-filled sky. "My dream?" he mused aloud. "I am already living it. A quiet life by the lake, fishing. Everything else... whatever comes, is just extra."
Old Man Yuan nodded slowly, seemingly understanding. "Good dream, boy. Simple. Best kind." He pushed himself up, swaying slightly. "Well, time for this old man to stumble back to his hut. Good fishing, Alex."
He waved a hand and ambled off into the darkness, leaving Alex alone by the dying embers of the fire.
Clarity, sharp and sudden, cut through the haze of the wine. Old Man Yuan's words echoed in his mind: "fish her out," "prize catch." Alex looked at his Void Fishing Rod, then at the vast, unseen vault of the Weaver of Souls. He had a month. A month to "fish out" a cultivation technique and a flame-based inheritance.
Alright, Kael, he thought, a familiar spark of determination in his eyes. It's time to go fishing.
He grabbed the rod, its dark, starry surface cool against his palm. He pictured the Cosmic Being's Vault, focused his intent, and cast the invisible line into the fabric of reality. The tug was almost immediate, a powerful, insistent pull. He reeled, gritting his teeth, and with a soft pop, a strange, blood-colored gourd materialized on the shore.
His Divine Eye of Essence flared, overlaying reality with a torrent of luminous text:
[Crimson Nectar Gourd]
Essence Tier: Divine Artifact
Description: A gourd formed from the heart of a primordial blood spirit vine, flowing with an unlimited amount of the highest quality Blood Spirit Wine. Even a single gulp is enough to make Immortals drunk for days, capable of refining one's spiritual roots and enhancing comprehension, but prolonged consumption can lead to profound intoxication and a loss of self.
Alex stared at the gourd, then at the empty wine gourd Old Man Yuan had left behind. He let out a loud, incredulous laugh that echoed across the silent lake. "You've got to be kidding me! Universe, are you telling me I shouldn't drink too much?"
He shook his head, still chuckling. He looked at the potent gourd. He had a month to prepare, and a clear head was probably more important than immortal-grade wine right now. He dropped the fishing rod and the Crimson Nectar Gourd gently onto the ground beside him.
Maybe tomorrow, he thought, and crawled inside his shed, a satisfied, slightly tipsy grin on his face. He drifted to sleep, visions of powerful techniques and flaming inheritances swirling in his mind.