A sweet and acidic scent, almost ethereal, floated in the air.
It came neither from the heavens nor the earth—
But from a jade flask placed between two men.
Inside an ancient pagoda perched atop a mountain swept by eternal mists, two figures sat facing each other.
The moonlight filtered through intricately carved wooden panels, casting silver shadows across the room.
Li Yansheng, a legend among alchemical cultivators, also known as the Celestial Vintner, observed his disciple with a serene calm.
His silver hair was tied in a topknot, and his eyes—clear as the oldest spirits—held a quiet, wistful melancholy.
Across from him sat his student, Qin Muruo, visibly anxious.
Sweat beaded at his temples despite the mountain's cold breath.
Upon the lacquered table, two cups rested:
One, empty. The other, half-filled with a luminous amber wine.
Li Yansheng took a sip.
And smiled.
— You used Black Lotus from Neishan, century-old ginseng… and a microdose of spiritleaf venom. Very subtle.
Qin Muruo swallowed hard.
— Master… I…
— You've always been curious about my secret recipes. Too curious.
The old man raised the cup again, admired it one last time, and drank it in a single motion.
He set the vessel down and looked up at his disciple.
— I don't resent you. Not truly. The world is vast… and ambition devours all.
Qin Muruo stepped back, torn between guilt and confusion.
— Why… didn't you stop me? Why drink it?
Li Yansheng smiled faintly.
— Because this wine… was exquisite.
He closed his eyes.
His breath slowed.
And his heart—saturated by poison and centuries of cultivation—quietly faded.
His body crumpled, embraced by the sacred silence of the sanctuary.
---
Modern World – Manhattan, USA — Entrance Examination for Lyx-Morningstar Academy
The buzz of the crowd echoed through the grand ballroom of a luxurious hotel.
Cameras, lights, presenters—
The scene resembled the finale of a high-class culinary competition.
At the center, behind an ultramodern station outfitted with state-of-the-art machines, a young man stood trembling.
He held an empty shaker in his damp hands.
His name? Calwyn.
At least, that's what was written on the nameplate in front of him.
— One minute left for Candidate 19! the announcer's voice rang out tensely.
— He hasn't presented anything yet…
— Did he faint or freeze?
A faint clink of glass broke the tension.
The young man's eyes suddenly widened.
Something in his gaze had changed—
Deeper. Calmer.
As if an ancient soul had just awakened in a youthful body.
> [⚙️] Partial transmigration complete.
[Current identity: Calwyn J. Rembrandt]
[Original host in latent hibernation.]
[Language and cultural environment temporarily integrated.]
He blinked.
"What… is this world? What is this language… that I understand without thinking?"
He scanned his surroundings.
Strange-shaped glasses. Multicolored bottles. Blinding stage lights.
A sea of spectators. Judges in sharp suits, stern and focused.
He staggered briefly, then straightened.
— This… is not my world.
But… my hands remember.
He drew a long breath.
The scent of lime, spice, vanilla, and mint danced in the air, intoxicating.
Before him, four other contestants had already presented their cocktails to the renowned panel of judges—professors from the Lyx-Morningstar Academy, the world's most prestigious institute of mixology and sensory arts.
A booming voice echoed:
— Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the favorite of the pre-selections… the brilliant, inimitable… Sylvia Rainmore!
Thunderous applause.
A golden-haired young woman, tall and poised, stepped forward with graceful precision.
Her off-white suit shimmered under the spotlights.
She placed a glass of amber liquid before the judges and bowed.
— I call this cocktail "Euphoria."
It's made with ginseng root, black honey reduction, and aged Haitian rum.
Its effects? Enhanced blood flow, improved mental clarity, and a gentle, controlled euphoria.
The judges sipped in silence.
Then slowly nodded.
— Impeccable balance… one murmured.
— Refined precision for someone so young.
— A top candidate for admission, no doubt! added the commentator.
Next came a muscular, bald man covered in tattoos, who presented a steaming glass.
— Name of the cocktail: Inferno Tempest.
Chili, artisanal vodka, caramelized palm sugar.
Warms the body… and the soul.
Then, a punk-styled girl danced her way forward, carrying a violet drink.
— Mine's called "Dream Walker."
Lavender syrup, eucalyptus-infused gin, and a dash of cinnamon.
It soothes, brings a dreamy haze… and finishes with floral notes.
— Bold and unconventional, noted one of the judges.
The fourth contestant, an elegant Englishman, placed his cocktail down with composure.
— This is "Velvet Rouge."
Cognac, hibiscus bitters, dried orange zest.
It brings focus, elegance… and a desire for silence.
And finally—
— Final contestant: Calwyn Rembrandt.
The spotlight snapped to him.
Li Yansheng—now within this new vessel—breathed in deeply.
He took one step.
Then another.
And as if by magic, each movement became fluid. Natural. Precise.
He spun the shaker, poured ingredients he didn't even know he remembered, sliced a lemon peel with impossible finesse, and slid the glass across the counter in a perfect, silent gesture.
A reverent hush fell over the room.
— This cocktail… has no name, he said.
It is exactly what it needs to be.
The judges tasted it.
Their eyes widened.
The commentator whispered:
— Unbelievable… such harmony. Such grace…
His technique… it's ancient. Almost… esoteric.
One minute passed. Then two.
Finally, an official voice rang out:
— All contestants may now leave the stage.
Results of the Lyx-Morningstar Academy entrance exam will be released in the coming hours.
Thank you all.
The crowd erupted in applause.
Li Yansheng—Calwyn—bowed respectfully and stepped down.
He exited into a backstage hallway filled with cables, technicians, and glaring lights.
He walked forward, steady, guided by memories that weren't his own.
And then… he stepped outside.
Before him—
Towers of glass and steel stretching skyward like modern mountains.
Sleek, silent vehicles gliding over flawless roads.
Luminous signs flickering in a language strange, yet familiar.
— USA. That's… what this place is called.
He had barely begun to process the truth when a swarm of reporters surged toward him.
— Mr. Rembrandt! You stunned the judges today!
Do you believe you can make it into Lyx-Morningstar after such a… unique performance?
He regarded them for a moment, then gave a calm, almost arrogant smile.
— That was child's play.
From afar, in the backseat of a luxury car, Sylvia Rainmore watched him.
Her gaze narrowed—curious.
Then, two young women approached, eyes sparkling.
— You were pathetic at first, but then… you were amazing! said one.
— Wanna grab a drink with us? added the other, with a cheeky wink.
Li Yansheng looked at them.
Then laughed softly.
— This world… is thrilling.