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Chapter 9: War God Wine

When Ashura was a mischievous child, he often stole wine from his grandfather and father, so over time he developed a solid tolerance.

Yet he never thought dwarven liquor would be this strong; the instant the first mouthful slid down his throat, his face and entire body flushed bright red.

The alcohol surged into his head, his vital energy roiled, and in one breath he shattered the bottleneck of Warrior Stage 3.

Ashura felt both shocked and delighted.

He never expected a single gulp of wine to push him into Warrior Stage 3, which happened to meet Saint Gobban Academy’s admission requirement.

The problem he had worried about… falling behind in cultivation because of his journey and failing the entrance exam… was solved so easily.

The boy’s heart bloomed with joy.

He lifted the keg again and took another huge swig of dwarven spirits, then staggered and nearly fell.

This time his blood still churned with vigor, but the feeling of breaking through a realm did not come again.

The surrounding dwarves burst into hearty laughter at the sight of the drunken youth.

Captain Kasa, leader of the dwarven warriors, saw Ashura’s embarrassment, guessed what he was thinking, and said, “My friend, this is our dwarven War God Wine, the finest drink under heaven.”

“One swallow invigorates the blood, heals injuries, restores strength, dispels negative states, boosts fighting spirit, reinforces yang energy, and even nourishes the kidneys.”

“Of course the first mouthful works best… did you just break through a minor stage?”

“Every later sip is weaker than the first, but it still brings many benefits.”

“When you take a wife, have one mouthful every night and I guarantee your Battle Spirit will ignite till dawn.”

Ashura hastily waved to stop the increasingly outrageous dwarf; dwarves were usually tight-lipped, yet once they spoke of good wine they became unstoppable.

He was only a naive 14-year-old, full of longing and curiosity about the opposite sex, but far too shy to discuss such topics openly.

Ashura returned the keg, bowed gratefully, and said, “Thank you for sharing this marvelous wine; I love it, and it helped me rise a whole minor stage… I have never tasted anything this good.”

When the dwarven warriors heard him praise their War God Wine, their faces shone with pride and joy, even happier than when someone praised their bravery.

Kasa grew even more cheerful, grabbed Ashura’s arm, and said, “Come, come, come, follow me back to our clan; you are our friend and I will introduce you to everyone… there will be endless wine and roast meat.”

With that he dragged Ashura toward the caravan.

Ashura quickly gripped the iron-like hand holding him and said anxiously, “Not this time, Kasa; though I would love to visit, I have more urgent business.”

“I must reach Saint Gobban Academy to study; the road is long and less than 3 months remain… I might already be late, so I cannot indulge and waste time.”

Kasa stopped, glanced at the worried youth, and realized he did indeed have important affairs.

He sighed and said, “Very well; Saint Gobban City is still far away, and war has broken out between the Biren Kingdom and the Yedi Kingdom ahead… the roads are blocked, so you’ll have to detour, and time is truly tight.”

Ashura was astonished; fortunately he had met the dwarves and learned this news.

Had he plunged into the warring lands unaware, getting out would have been troublesome… perhaps virtue really brings its reward.

After steadying his mind, Ashura asked, “Kasa, do you know who these black-robed men are and why they attacked you?”

Kasa silently walked to the dismembered leader of the black-robed men, lifted the cloak, and revealed a bald man with a deathly pale face.

He searched the corpse and found a spatial belt; once the owner dies, the storage imprint disappears.

Inside were a few gold and silver coins, some pills, and spare clothes.

The only clue worth pursuing was a beast-skin map, and when Kasa opened it his face darkened with fury.

He said in a low voice, “I don’t know who these black-robed men are; a while ago our clan suffered their attacks.”

“When they could not defeat us they besieged our settlement, and supply teams like ours were often ambushed… many clansmen have gone missing.”

“I led this procurement trip; without your help our team would probably have perished.”

“The map marks the locations of several dwarven clans, so it seems the others have been attacked as well.”

“Even the nearby goblin tribe was struck; I must return and report all of this to the chieftain.”

Ashura was equally stunned; who would dare provoke the dwarves’ famous temper?

After all, this race was notorious for its short fuse.

Just then Ashura noticed a black tattoo of the sun and moon on the black-robed leader’s body.

The mark made one’s skin crawl.

Ashura said, “During the fight I heard him mention capturing you for an organization called Blood Dawn to work the forge… have you ever heard of it?”

Kasa shook his bearded head. “Never; aside from buying necessities, we dwarves rarely deal with other races.”

“We have never offended any group, yet someone dares covet us; are they ready to taste our axes?” Kasa roared, swinging the giant axe that was nearly taller than he was.

Ashura swallowed hard, afraid the weapon might graze him.

The last body that touched that axe still lay on the ground in two pieces.

At that moment the other dwarves piled the trophies taken from the dead black-robed men before them.

Ashura glanced over the heap and saw nothing especially valuable, so he asked, “How should we handle this loot?”

Kasa shrugged. “Take whatever you like; I only need the map for my report.”

Unceremoniously, Ashura collected some healing pills for his own storage belt, leaving the gold, silver, and other items untouched.

He had heard the dwarves often needed money to buy supplies, so the coins might be more useful to them.

Kasa noted Ashura’s thoughtfulness and looked at the youth with renewed respect.

He decided this young friend was genuinely good-hearted.

After thinking for a moment, and with a pained expression, he produced two kegs of War God Wine from his belt and said, “My friend, since you must hurry on, I won’t keep you; take these two kegs to drink on the road.”

“Next time you pass by you must visit our clan so we can have a proper drinking bout; we live in the caves of Mount Falrang just ahead.”

Ashura’s eyes lit up at the sight of the two kegs, and he happily stored them away.

Such wondrous liquor was hard to come by, and while stowing it he said, “Absolutely; when the academy holidays come I’ll visit and have fun with you.”

“You should also be careful of that Blood Dawn group; if need be, gather the nearby clans and face them together.”

Kasa’s eyes brightened; he thought the idea excellent… human brains really were clever.

Ashura hugged each dwarf in farewell; dwarven friendship was simple and sincere.

He waved and ran toward his previous campsite.

On the way back he suddenly took a small flag from his chest… the formation eye the black-robed leader had used.

The more he looked at it, the more uneasy he felt, so he flicked it into the river ahead.

The black flag bobbed with the current and drifted away.

When Ashura reached the old camp, his black horse was still leisurely grazing, utterly relaxed.

Ashura felt a surge of anger, snorted, and strode toward Charcoal.

Charcoal was in a splendid mood; the little demon of a master had been gone almost a full day… had he been forgotten?

A few more days and I’ll be free, galloping wherever I please…

The dream was cut short when the boy with the wicked grin walked over.

At that smile, all five of the horse’s legs shuddered; it immediately trotted over and rubbed its head ingratiatingly against its master’s arm.

Ashura had intended to punish the rebellious horse, but remembering the lost day he decided to hurry on instead.

He snorted, swung into the saddle, and galloped toward Saint Gobban.

The boy did not know that 3 days after he left, two black-robed men stood on boulders by a nearby river.

One held a wet little flag and said hoarsely, “This is the array flag I lent Envoy Nilo; since it is here, he has failed.”

He paused, then continued, “Who ruined our plan? If he had kept my flag, I could use the soul mark on it to find him sooner or later.”

“But he threw it away, so he must either be a powerful expert or a formation master.”

The other said, “If such a strong foe is around, someone has their eye on us.”

“Order our people in this region to cease action and hide until the organization gives word.” With that, he vanished from the boulder.

The two black-robed men guessed that the “expert” who discarded the flag was currently spurring his horse far into the distance.

By a simple decision, the youth had sidestepped a great crisis.

Yet it seemed he had also been drawn into a vast conspiracy.

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