Chapter 295
Chapter 295
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 295
Chapter Title: Chapter 295
-----------------------------------------------------------------
```html
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 295
Chapter Title: Poison Wine Contest
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Grand Manju Night Festival was a massive event that lasted a full three days.
However, as mentioned earlier, the atmosphere didn't stay the same throughout.
The first day felt like a simple banquet or festival laced with alcohol, full of harmony among everyone. But starting from the second day, it veered off course entirely.
People thoroughly plastered on potent liquor.
And since those drunks were all martial artists to boot, fights were bound to break out.
On top of that, the Manju Assembly even hosted an official brawl arena called the Heroes and Merchants Drunken Clash.
Naturally, the second night embodied the raw, savage spirit of an unorthodox sects' festival.
And now, an event unfolded to put the perfect exclamation point on that atmosphere.
The Poison Wine Contest.
It was a competition of downing poisoned brews one after another.
Until when?
Until your body gave out.
Was it because they were so wasted on booze?
The crowd cheered and reveled even after hearing the rules. They were clearly out of their minds.
As Hyeok Mulin watched them with a bland, detached gaze, Cheon Sumyeong spoke up.
"Heh heh. Go on."
Truth be told, achieving complete immunity to all poisons was something damn near impossible to believe.
Especially for someone so young?
Any hundred people would doubt its legitimacy.
"Isn't that your domain?"
There wasn't a shred of doubt in Cheon Sumyeong's gaze or tone as he sent Hyeok Mulin off.
If he claimed poison immunity, Cheon Sumyeong simply took his word for it.
With that, Hyeok Mulin slowly rose from his seat and stepped forward.
"I'll be back."
With those casual words, he mounted the platform and took stock of the setup.
Ten tables stood in a row, each bearing a single bottle etched with intricate patterns.
Beside the platform, people lined up in single file—the contestants who'd signed up for the Poison Wine Contest, it seemed.
Hyeok Mulin took his place at the end of the line, and no one joined after him.
'About ten in total.'
He shook his head after eyeing the participants ahead.
Even a legendary boozehound operated in a different realm from poisons.
Poison resistance might let you handle liquor, but slamming drinks didn't mean you could tank venom.
Yet here they were anyway.
'No different from volunteering for the grave.'
No matter how shitfaced and senseless the alcohol made them, stepping up to chug poison willingly?
Ridiculous choice on their part—but the Manju Assembly, putting on this death game for laughs, were vicious bastards too.
That's why it hit him again whenever he tried to forget.
These folks' roots ran deep in the unorthodox world.
"Looks like everyone's who wanted in has stepped up."
Gaebul glanced at the line and continued.
"Participant sign-ups are closed. Now for the Poison Wine Contest rules."
The rules were straightforward.
Down the brew at stage one. If your body holds, move to stage two.
Endure progressively deadlier poison wines, and whoever lasts to the highest stage claims victory.
"Don't fret about the poison harming your flesh. We'll hand out antidotes to every contestant once it's over."
Hyeok Mulin snorted at Gaebul's pitch.
With that many toxins churning in your guts, one lousy antidote wasn't fixing shit.
Most would drop dead instantly; any freak survivors would croak within days.
Even the lucky few hanging on would drag lifelong scars from it.
Yet here he was, glossing over all that like a single pill magically erased the carnage. Couldn't help but laugh.
'Whatever. Not my problem.'
Gaebul wrapped up the spiel and signaled the start.
The first contestant was a hefty middle-aged man with a bulging beer gut.
The bottle on the lead table.
Flame Heart Incinerating Brew.
Gaebul uncorked it and poured a cup.
He passed it to the middle-aged man, who threw his head back and slammed it down his throat in one go.
A faint smirk tugged at Gaebul's lips as he watched.
Opting to chug it outright, the man clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the poison's agony.
But.
"...Hmm?"
No reaction whatsoever.
The baffled man glanced down at himself, face twisting in confusion.
The audience voiced their bewilderment too.
"What's up?"
"No effect at all?"
"Guess the first stage's poison is pretty mild."
After patting himself down, the middle-aged man figured he'd fretted for nothing.
If stage one was this tame, he could push pretty high.
Confidence swelling, he took slow steps toward the next table.
But after just three strides.
Thud.
His knees buckled in an instant.
His body shuddered violently; drool poured from his mouth.
"Grk... Graaaah!"
He clawed at his chest, unleashing a guttural wail of torment.
His heart felt like it was roasting in a lump of fire.
"S-save... me!"
Desperate to rip it out, his nails gouged bloody furrows across his chest.
But ultimately.
Thud.
He pitched forward and went still.
Gaebul's voice fell over the cooling corpse.
"Clear it."
"Yes!"
Manju Assembly warriors hauled the body away, and tension spiked in the contestants' eyes.
The crowd's gazes, by contrast, lit up with intrigue.
"Next contestant."
At Gaebul's call, the young man at the line's front shuffled forward on shaky legs.
Just like before, he took the cup from Gaebul and sipped it slowly.
As everyone watched with rapt interest.
"Urk!"
His pupils blew wide; he clutched near his heart—but held his ground.
His body endured the toxin.
"Hoo."
Gaebul's face showed honest surprise.
"Ooooh!"
The crowd saw a glimmer of hope in him.
But that hope.
Thud.
Shattered at the next stage.
The rest followed suit.
Most washed out at stage one or two—the bare beginning.
The farthest anyone got was three, making you wonder why bother prepping ten brews.
Dropouts piled up fast; failures got dragged offstage by the warriors.
And at last.
"The final one."
As Hyeok Mulin stepped up, Gaebul eyed him and muttered.
'The Dragon King Brew champion.'
He could drink—that much was proven.
But quantity and poison endurance were worlds apart.
Gaebul figured he'd soon be face-planting too.
But.
"Eh...?"
Before long, the crowd's stares shifted.
Hyeok Mulin casually sipped each cup and strode to the next without pause.
Their eyes bugged out at the sight.
He blew past stage three, heading for four.
Already shattering the record.
He could've quit there and won.
But his steps pressed on.
Centipede Bloodscale Brew, Glacial Soul Blood-Freezer Wine, Falling Petals Lingering Brew, Myriad Poisons Bone-Melting Liquor.
He knocked back the upper-tier poisons one by one, face serene as ever.
The crowd—and even Gaebul—couldn't mask their shock when Hyeok Mulin downed the ninth brew.
Unlike the rest, it packed instant full-body paralysis toxin, yet it did jack shit; he flowed right on.
'What the hell am I watching?'
Gaebul's gaze trembled.
Then his eyes locked on the final table's brew: One Breath Soul-Severing Wine.
'Tough on poisons, sure—but no way he survives that.'
The toxin blended in was inhumanly lethal.
Even a bear would melt from the inside out before one breath from a single drop.
It wasn't for surviving—it was pure execution juice.
Why? No one in festival history had reached it.
Purely for show.
Yet now, that brew met its first taker.
Gaebul and the crowd watched Hyeok Mulin's moves with bated breath.
He halted before the tenth table, the finale, and peered down.
His hand extended slowly.
"...Eh?"
Gaebul's face blanked.
Hyeok Mulin wasn't grabbing the cup.
The bottle.
For an instant, Gaebul's mind flashed: Why that?
Something clicked; he thrust out a hand and yelled.
"W-wait!"
But Hyeok Mulin moved faster.
Bottle in hand, he chugged the One Breath Soul-Severing Wine straight—no sips.
Gulp gulp.
His throat worked; then stilled.
He pulled the bottle from his lips and tilted it down.
Not a drop spilled.
Drained dry.
"Impossible..."
Gaebul gawked, jaw slack.
One drop should've liquified his guts, dissolving him bones and all—platform included.
Yet fine as ever?
What kinda gut was that?
Gaebul couldn't process the scene before his eyes.
As he stood there slumped and stunned.
Hyeok Mulin approached, hand out.
Gaebul flinched back.
"What do you want with me...?"
"The medal."
"...Medal?"
"Here for my winner's bronze."
Those words snapped Gaebul back—he'd lost sight of his damn job.
He was no host now, just a gawking onlooker awed by the spectacle.
"Here you go."
His tone even deferential, Gaebul handed over the Poison Wine Contest winner's bronze medal.
Hyeok Mulin pocketed it coolly, utterly untouched by the toxins, and headed back.
Most spectators parted with reverent stares.
A few, though, pierced his back with razor glares amid the crowd.
Gaebul stared after him, then shook it off.
"Finally..."
His eyes still drilling into Hyeok Mulin, he murmured low.
"Got someone worth reporting to the Assembly Leader."
```