Chapter 474: The Asura Field, the Drunken Sword Immortal!
Just as Shen Anyu was trapped in a three-woman Shura Field... elsewhere.
At Magic City's Dream Night Bar, the stale air hung heavy with the ghosts of last night's revelry—a cloying mix of spilled liquor, cheap perfume, and regret. The clock on the wall had long since ticked past 3 a.m., and the sprawling establishment was a shadow of its former self. Most of the clientele had staggered out into the pre-dawn gloom, leaving behind only a few slumped figures, lost to the world in drunken stupors. The vibrant, pulsating lights were now off, replaced by the harsh, functional glow of cleaning lamps that exposed every sticky patch on the floor and every scuff on the velvet furniture.
A team of weary waitresses moved through the cavernous space, their movements mechanical as they cleared tables. The sharp clatter of empty bottles being tossed into crates echoed in the quiet, punctuated by the soft scrape of cloths wiping down countertops. They gathered discarded fruit peels, soggy napkins, and other debris from the night's chaos, their faces masks of tired indifference.
Yet, despite their fatigue, their gazes kept drifting, drawn by an almost magnetic pull to a single, dimly lit corner of the bar. There, a lone man sat amidst a veritable fortress of empty liquor bottles. For three days and three nights, he had occupied that same booth, a silent, unmoving sentinel whose only action was the rhythmic lifting and tilting of a bottle. He poured glass after glass, the amber liquid vanishing down his throat with a relentless cadence. The constant, loud clinking of glass against glass as he set down one empty bottle and seized another had become the bar's grim, monotonous heartbeat, drawing the attention of everyone present.
Even the bar's seasoned owner, a man who had seen every shade of alcoholic despair and drunken bravado, had never witnessed a spectacle quite like this. To drink with such ferocious, single-minded dedication was not just unusual; it was unnerving.
"Who in the world is that guy?" one of the younger waitresses whispered, her eyes wide as she stacked glasses behind the bar. "He's been at it for three straight days. That's got to be... what, a dozen cases by now? Is he trying to drink himself to death?"
"Seriously," another chimed in, leaning on her mop. "I've seen guys who can hold their liquor, the kind who boast about drinking a thousand cups without passing out. But a dozen cases in three days? That's not drinking, that's a flood."
"Forget alcohol, I don't think a person could even drink that much water," a third waitress added, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Heh, you don't even know the half of it," a more senior waitress said with a wry smile, a hint of awe in her voice. "This big brother stumbled over from the bar next door three days ago. He'd already been on a three-day bender there, too. The manager over there got so spooked he was going to die on the premises that he finally kicked him out. What does he do? Walks right in here, sits down in that corner, and just... continues."
"Hiss..." A collective gasp went through the group. "My god, is he the reincarnation of some ancient wine god? How is that even possible? Is his blood pure alcohol at this point?"
Amidst the bewildered chatter, a plain-looking waitress with thoughtful eyes offered a different perspective, a small, knowing giggle escaping her lips.
"He doesn't look like the reincarnation of a drunkard to me," she mused. "He looks more like a Sword Immortal."
The others turned to look at the man again, considering her words. They saw past the immediate signs of his marathon binge. His beard was scruffy, a dark shadow covering the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes, though hazy and unfocused, held a strange depth. A profound weariness was etched onto his features, yet it couldn't fully conceal the handsome, sculpted lines of his face or the dashing air that clung to him like a second skin. He was clearly a man of immense charm, a middle-aged uncle whose magnetism was only slightly dulled by his current state.
Even his clothes, a simple and ordinary set, now rumpled and stained, couldn't diminish the powerful aura he projected. It was a presence that transcended appearance, a quiet dignity that persisted even in the depths of intoxication.
The waitresses huddled closer, their chatter now a flurry of excited whispers.
"He really is so handsome! If he just cleaned himself up a bit... got rid of that drunkard's haze... he'd be an incredibly charming mature uncle. The kind I'd love to date."
"He's handsome, but he can't hold a candle to Young Master Shen," another countered immediately, her voice filled with reverence. "Young Master Shen is the most handsome man alive. No one can compare to his beauty. He's like a banished immortal from the heavens."
"Little Mei, get your head out of the clouds," a third waitress scolded gently. "Young Master Shen is our boss, Situ Yueying's, man. We shouldn't even let our minds wander there. Besides, someone like him would never even notice plain waitresses like us. This uncle, though... this seemingly down-and-out uncle... now he might be someone we could actually have a story with."
"Shh! Stop it!" another hissed, looking around nervously. "We can't just throw Young Master Shen's name around like that. The boss has warned us about it so many times."
The reminder sent a chill through the group. They all stuck out their tongues in a gesture of playful fear and scattered like birds, returning to their work with renewed diligence.
Just then, the front door of the Dream Night Bar swung open, letting in a sliver of the cold morning air. Long Hao stepped inside, his expression a mask of grim determination. His eyes swept across the desolate bar, and when they landed on the drunken middle-aged man in the corner, they immediately lit up. A raw, unbridled excitement ignited in his gaze, a feverish exhilaration that made his heart pound against his ribs.
'I've searched for over a day! I finally found him!'
After the disastrous episode at Magic City's Antique Street where he'd missed his chance to acquire the Mo Yu Qilin jade pendant—and the Immortal Doctor's heritage hidden within—Long Hao had been swallowed by a pit of depression. For more than a day, he had wallowed in self-pity, the bitter taste of failure coating his tongue. He knew the heritage that could have allowed him to soar to unprecedented heights was now in someone else's hands. That path was closed. Even his backup plan, investing in the future Immortal Doctor Lu Ran, was now utterly useless.
Without the heritage, what was Lu Ran? Just an ordinary doctor with some talent. He was no longer a golden ticket.
With a deep breath, Long Hao had forced himself to recover. He had let go of his expectations for Lu Ran and began scanning his memories, searching for another future titan to invest in, another opportunity to leverage his knowledge of the future. Coincidentally, his rebirth had placed him in the right city at the right time. There was another influential figure in Magic City during this period.
Sword Immortal Nie Yun!
Staring at the scruffy yet undeniably handsome man in the corner, Long Hao's eyes burned with fervent excitement. This was him. This was the man who was destined to be the fated rival of the Sword God, Ye Linyuan! This was a super-existence who would one day reach the legendary Land Immortal realm!
Long Hao's memories of his past life surged forward, painting a vivid picture. He remembered the date perfectly: the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month, two years from now. On that day, Sword Immortal Nie Yun and Sword God Ye Linyuan would engage in a monumental battle on the shores of the East Sea. The duel would shake the entire world. Countless Martial Artists, mages, sorcerers, ninjas, and powerful figures from every corner of the globe would flock to witness it, their hearts filled with awe and reverence.
For swordsmen, it was a holy pilgrimage. They prostrated themselves before the sheer majesty of the two combatants' skill. The duel was hailed as the most brilliant and stunning clash of swords in five hundred years, a battle whose legend was comparable only to the peak showdown between the Sword Palace Master, Lin Xuanyan, and the infamous Sword Demon, Shao Shentong.
Long Hao could almost see it now: Nie Yun and Ye Linyuan, their power reaching a cataclysmic peak, taking their fight into the raging sea itself. Their sword intent would stir the waters into colossal tsunamis, waves tens, even hundreds of meters high, crashing against the shores. It was a battle that shook heaven and earth, a fight worthy of true immortals.
'I wonder if he's broken through to the Land Immortal realm yet?' Long Hao mused, his gaze fixed on Nie Yun's drunken form. 'Probably not, given his current state. But even if he hasn't, he's at the very least a peerless swordsman at the peak of the Heavenly Human realm.'
A wave of greedy ambition washed over Long Hao. If he could successfully invest in a man of this caliber, what kind of heaven-defying returns would the system grant him? He knew the Investment Return System's rewards were based on two key factors: the amount invested, and, more importantly, the proportion of influence the investment had. Providing timely help to someone in dire need was infinitely more valuable than adding a flower to an already ornate brocade. This was the ultimate "providing help in need" scenario.
Long Hao was filled with a surging confidence.
He knew that even though Nie Yun was a titan, a peak Heavenly Human or possibly even a dormant Land Immortal, it didn't mean he was beyond investment. Nie Yun was nothing like the cunning and ruthless Dragon King Consort, Han Qi. Long Hao knew exactly how to move the legendary Sword Immortal. He held the keys to this man's soul.
One was fine wine.
The other was the Dao of the Sword.
'In the eyes of the world, he is nothing but a wretched drunkard,' Long Hao thought, a smirk playing on his lips. 'No one knows that he is a Sword Immortal who finds enlightenment in wine. Only I, a reborn, know his true identity.'
His eyes gleamed with the unique confidence and arrogance of a regressor. He had suffered blow after blow since his rebirth. He had been humiliated, beaten, and had even begun to doubt his own destiny. For a moment, he had teetered on the verge of a complete collapse.
But now, he had regrouped. He was a reborn, armed with the incredible Investment Return System. He held all the trump cards. His confidence was back, stronger than ever.
Of course, Long Hao remained blissfully unaware that his precious system had already been hijacked, its core functions siphoned off and devoured by Shen Anyu.
'Heh heh, Shen Anyu... Su Hongmian...' he sneered internally, a venomous promise forming in his heart. 'When I successfully invest in Sword Immortal Nie Yun, your downfall will begin. I will make you both kneel before me. I will make you offer me a cappuccino with your own hands, apologizing for your sins.'
His thoughts inevitably circled back to Shen Anyu, the man who had stolen his fiancée, the man who flaunted his unusually intimate relationship with the stunning Xu sisters. The envy and jealousy festered in Long Hao's gut like a poison, twisting into pure, unadulterated hatred. The memory of what happened in the Zhenxiu Pavilion was seared into his mind—being forced to his knees by Shen Anyu's subordinate, the humiliation of giving away his family heirloom, the Mo Yu Qilin, just to save his own life.
As a reborn protagonist holding the ultimate cheat, how could he possibly let such a profound humiliation go unavenged?
'Shen Anyu, just you wait. Your good days are numbered.'
Long Hao let out a cold snort, then masterfully wiped the malice from his face, replacing it with a warm, friendly smile. He strode confidently towards the corner, weaving through the tables until he reached Nie Yun's booth. He sat down on the sofa directly across from the man, his movements casual and deliberate.
Sword Immortal Nie Yun slowly raised his head. His drunken eyes, heavy-lidded and clouded, briefly flickered over Long Hao before dismissing him entirely. He turned his attention back to his bottle, continuing to drink as if Long Hao didn't exist.
Undeterred, Long Hao spoke, his voice clear and steady.
"These wines are just trash. What's so good about them? I know where to find real fine wine!"
At the mention of "fine wine," Nie Yun's hand, which was halfway to his lips, froze. A flicker of light, the first sign of lucid thought in days, sparked within his drunken eyes. He let out a long, alcoholic burp, the smell potent enough to make a normal person dizzy, and mumbled, his words thick and slurred.
"You... know where there's fine wine?"
"Of course!" Long Hao replied, his smile widening with confidence. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone.
"The Dream Night Cocktail, personally mixed by Situ Yueying, the proprietress of this very bar, is the finest wine in all of Magic City!"
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