Chapter 291
Chapter 291
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 291
Chapter Title: Dragon King Liquor Sea
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The Grand Manju Night Festival lasted a full three days.
Though it was a nonstop revelry of alcohol day and night, the true flames of the festival blazed brightest after dark.
The heat grew several times fiercer than during the day, and with it, even more liquor was guzzled down.
Yet each night carried its own distinct vibe.
The first night was relatively tame.
The second, utterly wild.
And the final third night buzzed with tension and anticipation, raucous and alive.
It was the day they crowned the Manju King and the Grand Night Brew—the highlights of the Grand Manju Night Festival.
What was the Manju King?
Over the first two nights, contests revolving around drink had taken place. The Manju King was the ultimate drinker, selected based on the results of those events.
The Grand Night Brew was simpler.
Brewers from all corners had flocked here alongside men like Wallmaster Tiger.
They compared the liquors entered by these masters, crowning the finest as the Grand Night Brew.
So what did it mean to be named Manju King or to brew the Grand Night Brew?
Honor took the biggest slice of the pie, of course. But the real prize revealed itself on the final night.
Tak Paegwang, the head of the Manju Society.
The Manju King and the brewer of the Grand Night Brew earned the chance to share a drink with him.
They'd sample the Grand Night Brew alongside the rare vintages from his personal collection.
Not just hardcore boozers, but even the Manju Society's warriors and brewers alike wouldn't pass up such an opportunity.
Unless you were a brewer, though, winning Grand Night Brew was out of reach.
That's why most who showed up for the festival threw themselves into the contests, gunning to become the Manju King.
And so, on that first night, as the inaugural contest loomed, crowds gathered at the village center.
Watching from a distance, Cheon Sumyeong spoke up.
"It's finally starting, huh."
The stench of booze hung so thick in the air that Cheon Sumyeong had ducked into an inn for a daytime nap before returning.
He'd rejoined Hyeok Mulin just as the first contest kicked off, furrowing his brow at the hill of liquor jars and barrels piled in the center.
"What the hell is that amount..."
"Indeed."
"What do you mean, 'indeed'?"
"I've figured out the theme of the first contest."
Hyeok Mulin had deduced the nature of the opener from the endless stacks of jars.
"The theme?"
Cheon Sumyeong's eyebrow twitched downward as his gaze snapped forward.
He stared for a moment, then something clicked.
"No way..."
Just then, as realization dawned, a burly middle-aged man clambered atop an especially massive barrel.
A sturdy build, dominated by a glaring red nose.
His face flushed beet-red, as if all his blood had rushed to his head.
Gaebul, executive of the Manju Society and wielder of the Crimson Nose Blade.
Even as he mounted the barrel, the drunkards below chattered on, oblivious.
With their attention elsewhere, Gaebul pursed his lips.
Pfffttttttt—
A spray of booze droplets erupted from his mouth, drenching the crowd.
Those who caught the brunt of it full in the face gawked at him in disbelief.
Gaebul merely scratched his chest, his expression blank, as if to say, Got something to say about it?
"No wonder you picked a spot away from the center."
Cheon Sumyeong nodded, relieved at the sight.
"Smart positioning. Good call staying back."
Had that filthy spittle bomb hit him square, Gaebul's head would've been kissing the dirt by now—sword or no sword.
As Cheon Sumyeong sighed in relief at dodging the draw, Gaebul bellowed in a thunderous voice.
"Everyone, listen up—!"
Infused with inner energy, his shout boomed out, finally silencing the babble.
With all eyes on him, Gaebul cut straight to it.
"You've all been waiting for this moment. Let the Dragon King Liquor Sea begin!"
The Grand Manju Night Festival's first contest: the Dragon King Liquor Sea.
In a nutshell?
Who can drink the most?
It was the showdown to crown the supreme guzzler among the world's top drinkers.
"Dragon King Liquor Sea, eh."
"Thinking of entering?"
"Not at all."
Cheon Sumyeong flat-out refused upon hearing the event.
He'd always favored quality over quantity, never one for chugging vast amounts.
With his pass confirmed, Hyeok Mulin stood.
"Understood. I'll head over, then."
"Go get 'em."
Hyeok Mulin strode toward the central platform.
A crowd of drinkers already milled there.
Bearish hulks built like tanks.
Or flabby guts sagging wide.
Most looked primed to funnel booze by the gallon.
Hyeok Mulin slotted in among them. The crowd murmured curiously for a beat—until Gaebul spoke again.
"Looks like everyone's who's coming is here."
A quick count: about thirty.
Even filtering for only the hardcore chuggers, that was a hefty turnout.
A bit crowded.
Gaebul stroked his chin, pondering the numbers, then clapped decisively.
Preliminaries first, to thin the herd.
"Listen up—!"
He had their attention.
"Too many for finals right off. We'll do qualifiers first! Line up single file, entrants!"
At his command, they formed a horizontal line facing the onlookers.
Soon, chairs appeared behind them, each paired with a barrel as wide as a man's torso up front.
The entrants shot Gaebul puzzled looks.
He explained.
"Time limit: fifteen minutes. Empty your barrel completely to advance."
"F-Fifteen?!"
"That's way too short!"
"How's anyone supposed to down this much in fifteen?!"
They gaped at the barrels—equivalent to dozens of bottles—then back at Gaebul.
Despair etched their faces as protests flew, but his reply was ice-cold.
"Can't hack it? Quit."
"...!"
No drinker's pride would let them slink off without trying.
Lips clamped, they sank into chairs, trembling hands reaching for barrels.
All set, Gaebul issued his final warning.
"No dumping booze on the sly or cheating. And if anyone circulates inner energy to purge the alcohol..."
His eyes turned glacial as a winter gale.
"The Society will punish you on the spot."
The Manju Society, united in the joy of drink, imposed few rules on boozing.
Save one.
No purging with inner energy.
They never used it to sober up, no matter what.
What's the point of booze if you don't feel the buzz—and then flush it with qi?
To the Society, it was an unforgivable sin.
Thus, mighty warriors or powerless commoners stood equal when imbibing under their banner.
The drinkers nodded, familiar with the creed. Gaebul gave the go.
"Good. Qualifiers start... now!"
Barrels hoisted, the chugging frenzy erupted.
But soon, gasps broke the rhythm as they pulled away, heaving.
Anxious faces: drink, pause, drink, pause.
Prime yellow liquor, tasty stuff—but no time to savor.
They poured straight down throats, barely touching tongues.
About ten minutes in, gaps emerged.
Minimizing breaks, powering through.
Steadily emptying at their pace.
Clutching bloated bellies, crying uncle.
Or staggering off to hug walls and hurl.
To Gaebul, winners and losers sorted themselves.
Three... no, four'll make finals.
Perfect number. Satisfied, his gaze drifted to the end of the line.
"...Hm?"
A handsome man with sharp features. But it wasn't looks that drew Gaebul.
What the...?
Everyone else wrestled barrels in vain. This guy? Just sitting there, unmoving.
Barrel level unchanged—he hadn't touched it.
Swept up in the mood, maybe.
He'd seen types like that: content just to join the fun, no finals ambitions.
Then, the man moved.
Finally lifting the barrel to his lips.
Gaebul watched impassively.
Time ticking down. Too late now—even starting full tilt, no chance.
He started to look away.
But...
"...?"
Something off. His eyes flicked back.
Gulp. Gulp.
The barrel never lowered.
No breaks—he kept swallowing nonstop.
Thud.
Onlookers stared slack-jawed, dropping their own barrels. The crowd held its collective breath, transfixed.
And at the end...
Clunk.
Hyeok Mulin set his empty barrel down.
Gaebul found his feet carrying him over, unbidden.
At the end, he glanced at Hyeok Mulin, then peered into the barrel.
Empty.
Not a drop left.
Gaebul looked up, nodded.
"First finalist."
"Wooooaaahhhh!!!"
Last to start, first to finish.
The crowd erupted for Hyeok Mulin's feat.
He led the pack to finals. Three more squeezed through.
One comfy margin; the rest, razor-thin on the clock.
Losers shuffled back into the throng.
"Finals start now."
Gaebul announced right there.
Clap.
Society warriors sprang into action, hoisting massive barrels overhead.
They placed one behind each finalist.
Terror filled the drinkers' eyes. They stared at Gaebul, aghast.
"Finals rules are simple."
No limit.
Drink till the end. Last one standing wins.
The crowd went wild at Gaebul's decree.
The finalists? Pale as ghosts.
All but one.
Hyeok Mulin.