Chapter Seventy-Three: Intoxication

"Brother Yang, you killed all the prisoners in my dungeon—shouldn't you give me an explanation for that?"
Dongfang Bubai’s words shifted the atmosphere instantly.

Linghu Chong also turned to Yang Wenhao, unaware of what had happened outside. Judging from Dongfang Bubai’s words, it seemed Yang Wenhao had slaughtered everyone confined in the dungeon.

Linghu Chong’s expression remained indifferent to this act; after all, when he could scarcely care for his own life, how could he afford to play the saint for others?

Yang Wenhao replied, "Is Brother Dongfang perhaps intending to hold me accountable?"

"Not at all," Dongfang Bubai shook his head. "If Brother Yang wishes to kill, no one will stop you. I’m simply curious."

Yang Wenhao responded, "They were irritating."

Linghu Chong was left speechless by this answer—so, simply because they were irritating, you killed them all? That was a rather domineering justification.

Dongfang Bubai smiled faintly, breathtaking in beauty and charm. "Let’s drink. Tonight, we shall not stop until we are truly drunk." He did not pursue the previous topic; instead, he was the first to raise his bowl.

This time, "drinking until truly drunk" was not just a saying but a reality. Two innate masters and one near first-class expert drank together. Yang Wenhao could have used his internal energy to dispel the effects of the alcohol, but he chose not to. Instead, he drank with Dongfang Bubai and Linghu Chong relying solely on his own capacity.

Yang Wenhao could hold his liquor well, but tonight’s drinking surpassed any he’d had in over a decade. The three of them drank in the dungeon, and it had its own unique flavor—a certain charm. Jar after jar was brought in, and soon enough, jar after jar was emptied.

The previously dark and gloomy dungeon seemed to change under the influence of their camaraderie and boldness.

Halfway through, Linghu Chong was already so drunk he collapsed to the ground, fast asleep, oblivious to the world. Only Yang Wenhao and Dongfang Bubai persisted in their contest.

"Come, drink," Dongfang Bubai raised his bowl and downed it in one go.

Yang Wenhao was not about to lose to a woman, so he drained his bowl as well.

A rosy flush colored Dongfang Bubai’s cheeks, and her enchanting eyes danced with allure. "I feel that drinking one bowl at a time is not exhilarating enough."

"Then shall we drink straight from the jar?" Yang Wenhao suggested.

"Straight from the jar?" Dongfang Bubai was taken aback.

Yang Wenhao explained, "It means drinking an entire jar in one go."

"Excellent!" Dongfang Bubai nodded, immediately placing two jars, one before Yang Wenhao and one before herself. "I’ll count down from three. Whoever doesn’t finish must be punished."

"Three, two, one—drink!"

Lifting the jars, both Dongfang Bubai and Yang Wenhao began to gulp the wine down.

The only sound in the dark, quiet dungeon was the gurgle of wine being drunk.

Crash—a clay wine jar shattered as it hit the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. Having finished an entire jar, Dongfang Bubai was clearly drunk—her world seemed to sway and spin.

Yang Wenhao, after his jar, felt much the same.

The dishes on the table were nearly gone. With wine, once you start, you don’t stop until you’re drunk.

Suddenly, a slender figure slumped against Yang Wenhao’s shoulder. He started slightly, then looked down at Dongfang Bubai leaning on him.

Her eyes were hazy, hard to tell dream from reality. "Yang Wenhao… I like you…" she murmured.

Despite his drunkenness, Yang Wenhao retained a hint of clarity. Upon hearing her confession, he paused, then said, "Dongfang, you’re drunk."

"No… I am not," Dongfang Bubai shook her head. She picked up two more jars, placed them on the table, and was about to open one, but Yang Wenhao stopped her.

"Don’t drink anymore," he said, pressing his hand over her delicate, wine-red fingers.

"I must… I…" Before she could finish, she slumped backward. Yang Wenhao, seeing this, hastily reached out to catch her. Even so, he was so dizzy that he nearly lost his balance himself, but he managed to hold her, preventing her from falling.

He sighed, picked Dongfang Bubai up, and tried to rise. In doing so, he seemed to forget just how drunk he was; he staggered, his back slamming against the iron bars.

"Damn it…" Yang Wenhao muttered under his breath, then found the exit and made his way out, moving slowly, his steps uncertain.

Even at this pace, he struggled to keep his balance—if he tried to go any faster, he’d be headed for disaster.

Still, compared to Dongfang Bubai, Yang Wenhao could hold his liquor much better. He wasn’t completely drunk yet, but another drink or two and he’d be done for.

The Sun and Moon Sect followers stationed outside saw Yang Wenhao carrying Dongfang Bubai out and were startled, fearing something had happened. On closer look, they realized Dongfang Bubai was merely asleep.

"Elder Yang…" one of them called.

Yang Wenhao’s face was flushed. "Where does Dongfang live?"

They hurried to answer, "Straight ahead to the west is the Sect Master’s residence."

No sooner had they spoken than Yang Wenhao set off in that direction, walking with a determined, almost defiant stride.

"Elder Yang, do you need—" some began, but Yang Wenhao was already gone.

The head of the dungeon guards ordered his men, "Follow him at a distance and guard carefully."

"Yes, sir."

The guards obeyed, keeping their distance—they dared not approach. After all, Yang Wenhao was a god of slaughter; if they angered him, especially when he was drunk, he might kill without a second thought.

Thus, they escorted him all the way to Dongfang Bubai’s residence.

Her quarters were sumptuous, rivaling those of the highest officials.

"Damn it, nothing better to do than build a place this big," Yang Wenhao grumbled, feeling overwhelmed by the long walk.

At last, he reached Dongfang Bubai’s private chambers.

With a kick, he flung the door open and strode inside.

The guards in the distance immediately withdrew from the residence—they knew lingering would only bring punishment in the Sun and Moon Sect leader’s abode.

Meanwhile, Yang Wenhao carried Dongfang Bubai to the bed, carefully settled her down, and tucked her in.

"Damn, I feel terrible…" he muttered, his whole body burning. He prepared to use his internal energy to dispel the effects of the wine.

Just as he was about to do so, he felt an unfamiliar sensation at his back.

"Yang Wenhao…" Dongfang Bubai’s voice was more enchanting than ever, laced with the allure of drunkenness. Her flushed jade-like hands reached for his chest.

(End of this chapter)