Chapter 292
Chapter 292
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 292
Chapter Title: Champion of Yongwang Juhae
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Hyeok Mulin glanced at the barrels lined up behind him.
And beyond them, he took in the mountain-like feast of stacked liquor barrels.
‘No end in sight.’
Hyeok Mulin had never seen so much alcohol gathered in one place before.
But even so, he brimmed with confidence.
Confidence in his tolerance.
“Anyone who can’t keep up with the drinking pace will be eliminated. With that, the finals of the Yongwang Liquor Challenge begin!”
At Gaebul’s signal, the four drinkers snatched up their barrels and started chugging furiously.
Meanwhile, Hyeok Mulin—who reached for his barrel the slowest, most leisurely of them all—emptied it faster than anyone else once again.
Once the empty barrel was swapped for a fresh one, he waited at a relaxed pace to match theirs.
To the drinkers locked in a desperate chugging battle, Hyeok Mulin’s demeanor was utterly baffling.
‘How can he drink that fast?’
‘Is he even human?’
‘Doesn’t he get drunk at all?’
He had already downed two barrels across the preliminaries and finals with ease, yet not a speck of drunkenness showed on Hyeok Mulin.
He wasn’t expelling the alcohol with internal energy, either.
Gaebul had eyed him suspiciously at first due to the total lack of intoxication, but he’d set those doubts aside by now.
There wasn’t a trace of internal energy circulation driving out the booze.
In the end, the drinkers—and the crowd alike—couldn’t hold back their awe, but to Hyeok Mulin himself, it was all too natural.
‘No way I’d get drunk.’
The haze of alcohol was, in a sense, a type of poison.
It inflicted negative effects on the body, after all.
But Hyeok Mulin was immune to all poisons.
In other words, no liquor in the world could ever intoxicate him, no matter how much he poured down.
Who could stand against someone immune to all poisons in a drinking contest?
It was impossible unless they dragged in the Poison Lord himself.
‘An expanded stomach? I’ll just shield it with internal energy.’
They’d banned using internal energy to dispel alcohol, but hadn’t restricted other applications.
And so Hyeok Mulin emptied barrel after barrel like plain water—neither drunk nor bloated.
“He’s already finished the next one…”
Hyeok Mulin downed his second barrel at Gaebul’s signal.
He emptied it just as swiftly as before, then waited leisurely.
The two drinkers stealing glances at him soon set their barrels aside.
“I’ll call it here.”
“I give up too.”
They were stuffed from jumping straight into finals after prelims, but they still had room left.
Even so, their reason for stopping was simple.
An insurmountable wall.
Facing Hyeok Mulin—a barrier no scheme could overcome—their resolve had shattered.
A wounded bird could take to the skies again, but a bird with broken will never would.
These two wouldn’t foolishly boast about chugging ever again, so in a way, Hyeok Mulin had steered their lives for the better.
“That leaves three.”
Gaebul raised his hand, and the third barrel was set before them.
And in that instant.
“Urk…!”
One drinker clamped his mouth shut with a wretched retch and bolted from his seat.
Now only two remained.
The crowd, spotting the middle-aged man left opposite Hyeok Mulin, began to murmur.
“As expected, he’s the last one standing.”
“Who else could it be?”
“His moniker, Full Drunk Soul, is well-earned.”
A burly warrior with some meat on his bones, he was already renowned across the land for his prodigious drinking.
Once he touched the bottle, he wouldn’t stop until he was soul-deep drunk—a reputation that preceded him.
Yet.
‘I’ve never lost a drinking bout to anyone since the day I was born!’
Full Drunk Soul’s face drained to a sickly blue as he stole glances at Hyeok Mulin.
Four barrels. Five. Six.
With each one emptied, his gut swelled fuller, his head spun dizzier.
But that man? Still no reaction, as if it were his very first sip.
It was enough to drive him mad.
And when the seventh barrel arrived.
“Huff. Huff. Huff.”
His belly protruding, breaths ragged, Full Drunk Soul turned his gaze sideways.
And in that moment.
“……Ah.”
A hollow sigh slipped from his lips.
The man wasn’t sparing him a single thought—calmly prepping for the next round.
He realized then: from the start, he’d been the only one competing in earnest.
And the instant that truth hit.
Thud!
His slumping body smacked the floor.
Gaebul nodded, descended, strode past the quitters and the fallen, and halted before Hyeok Mulin.
He met the young man’s eyes and asked.
“You. What’s your name?”
“Hyeok Mulin.”
“Hyeok Mulin, eh…”
He racked his brain through the roster of famed drinkers, but the name rang no bells.
‘An overwhelming rookie, then.’
It made sense, in a way.
Someone with this kind of talent wouldn’t have stayed unknown.
Sorting his thoughts, he turned to face the crowd.
And declared the final result of the contest.
“After a fierce Yongwang Liquor Challenge, the victor is!”
He thrust his hand toward Hyeok Mulin, voice booming.
“Hyeok Mulin!”
“Wooooaaah!”
To drinkers, the pinnacle of romance—and envy—was guzzling the most booze.
The crowd showered Hyeok Mulin, who’d claimed victory with overwhelming prowess, with applause laced in admiration, envy, and respect.
“Take this. Proof that you’re the Yongwang Liquor Challenge champion.”
Gaebul handed over a palm-sized bronze plaque engraved with “Yongwang Liquor Challenge.”
Hyeok Mulin accepted it and promptly turned to leave.
The crowd naturally parted for him, and soon enough, he reunited with the beaming Cheon Sumyeong who’d been waiting with a pleased smile.
The old man grinned at his returning companion.
“Tsk tsk. I’d sensed it before, but I didn’t know you could drink like that. I saw the whole thing.”
Even Cheon Sumyeong couldn’t hide his surprise at Hyeok Mulin’s display.
With internal energy banned for expelling alcohol, it had been a pure test of bodily endurance.
Yet Hyeok Mulin had dominated utterly—and returned without a hint of buzz.
“Is booze tolerance genetic? Or did you build it up drinking?”
“Neither.”
“Hm? Then…?”
As Cheon Sumyeong’s brow furrowed in confusion, Hyeok Mulin stated flatly.
“I’m immune to all poisons, so alcohol has no effect.”
“What?!”
Stunned by the unimaginable answer, Cheon Sumyeong gawked at him.
‘Not even immunity to myriad poisons—but all poisons?’
At his age? In his realm? Immune to everything?
What in the world was his body made of?
Cheon Sumyeong shot him an incredulous look before shaking his head and giving up on pondering it.
Hyeok Mulin had always defied his common sense, after all.
Just then, Gaebul climbed atop the massive barrel once more and spoke.
“Now for the next contest. The second event is Heavenly Liquor Discernment!”
Heavenly Liquor Discernment.
Blindfolded with black cloth, one savored the liquor purely by taste and identified the type—from broad strokes like cloudy rice wine, clear spirits, or yellow wine, down to specifics like Jade Lake Spring, Black South Spring, Two River Brew, Hemp Oil Wine, or Shaoxing wine.
A handful of drinkers with exquisitely sensitive palates stepped forward.
“I hadn’t planned to join, but…”
“It’d be a shame if you sat this one out.”
Cheon Sumyeong stepped up to participate.
And less than half a shichen later.
“…The winner of Heavenly Liquor Discernment is Elder Cheon.”
No one had paid him any mind when he first ascended the stage.
Just some random old-timer passing through, they’d thought.
But by the end, every eye was on him.
Amid a barrage of questions, he was the only one who never missed—without a moment’s hesitation.
He’d named the answers before the proctors could even count off.
Even after unbinding the blindfold, he didn’t glance at the cup.
He was certain he’d nailed it.
Thus, Cheon Sumyeong too returned to Hyeok Mulin’s side clutching a bronze plaque engraved “Heavenly Liquor Discernment.”
In claiming both contests on the first day, Hyeok Mulin and Cheon Sumyeong instantly drew every drinker’s rapt attention.
Their surroundings swarmed with people firing off questions.
Then.
Thud.
“……”
Cheon Sumyeong set down his cup and fixed the crowd with a silent, icy stare.
No killing intent laced those eyes, yet the drinkers who met them shivered, sweat beading down their spines.
One by one, they averted their gazes and scattered, soon leaving a blissfully clear space around them.
But.
“……?”
One man lingered by their side.
As Cheon Sumyeong scowled to shoo him off, Hyeok Mulin—sensing an odd gaze—spoke first.
“Something to say?”
“Ahem. Well…”
The man chose his words carefully, but his eyes weren’t on Hyeok Mulin or Cheon Sumyeong.
They were locked on the plaque in Hyeok Mulin’s fingertips.
Gazing at it, he lowered his voice cautiously.
“Any chance you’d sell me that plaque?”
“Buy the plaque?”
“Exactly. I want to meet the host on the final day of the Grand Liquor Night Festival. And for that, I need that plaque, right?”
Hyeok Mulin cocked his head.
Buying a plaque hardly guaranteed a meeting with the host. The winners were set in stone, after all.
“I’ll pay handsomely. Please, at least consider it.”
Even with that uncertainty, his desire to meet the host was that strong?
Hyeok Mulin gave him a puzzled look.
“If it’s just to meet the host, there are other ways.”
The man started to reply but faltered, holding back.
Sensing something off in his demeanor, Hyeok Mulin pressed.
“You’ve got another motive for the plaque.”
Not merely meeting the host—but some reason to be there on the final day of the Grand Liquor Night Festival.
The man flinched.
“Tell me the real purpose, and I’ll hand it over.”
“……!”
His pupils widened as he pondered briefly.
Keep the secret, or secure the plaque?
In the end, resolve hardened on his face, and he nodded.
“Fine. But this stays between us—no leaking it to anyone.”
“I promise.”
At Hyeok Mulin’s word, the man swallowed hard and whipped his eyes around, confirming no one else nearby but them.
Then, slowly, he parted his lips.
“On the final day, right there sharing a drink with the host…”
Hyeok Mulin hadn’t held high hopes for the tale.
But what followed carried an unbelievable weight.
“Saheukryeon’s Ancient Martial Sovereign will make an appearance.”