Monarch of Evernight

Chapter 420: Want to Get me Drunk? [V5C127 – A Distance Within Reach]

This arachne was already well advanced in his years. His face was full of creases, and his skin was already lax. However, the advantage of being an arachne was that he could reach all the alcohol on the tall shelf just by turning in place. His movements were nimble despite his age—the customers needed only to shout what they wanted, and the ale would be tossed onto their table. Naturally, they had to pay first.

From this alone, it was easy to see that this arachne wasn’t simple at all. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to set up a bar here either.

Qianye squeezed over to the bar and tapped lightly on the surface. “Give me something strong.”

The arachne shot Qianye a penetrative glance and said while shrugging his shoulders, “Little vampire, be careful about getting drunk. There’s only one outcome if you collapse in such a place. You’ll be robbed clean and tossed out of the town.”

Qianye’s smile remained unchanged as he repeated, “Give me something strong. The type you specialize in.”

“Very well! Newborns are indeed impetuous. I was the same at your age.” The old arachne nagged on while mixing up a brightly colored concoction with dazzling techniques. He then placed the drink in front of Qianye.

That “thing” looked and smelled terrifying. Qianye, with his keen senses, almost sneezed as the inexplicable odor assaulted his senses. Even he was somewhat hesitant at the sight of this mysterious brew.

It was at this time that a beautiful woman arrived beside Qianye and said with a smile, “Hey little handsome, this drink is the specialty of this place. It’ll be quite a regretful if you don’t try it.”

This werewolf lady was fiery hot and quite explicitly dressed. Her amorous gaze was also quite frank and just shy of pressing Qianye down to the floor.

Qianye had inherited the innate character of a vampire and wasn’t too interested in werewolves. But he still raised the glass and took a small sip. This mouthful of alcohol was like a stream of flames rushing into his stomach which left him dazzled and giddy as though an explosion had just gone off in his brain. He had unexpectedly taken too big a sip.

Qianye had never encountered a situation where a single sip of wine had brought him to the verge of collapse. His body, at this moment, was burning up—his brain was muddled, and his thoughts were adrift. He placed his hands before his eyes and found that it was flushed red. Presumably, his face was also in the same state.

Many eyes around the bar counter were on Qianye at this moment. Many gazes had turned abnormal after seeing his visibly intoxicated manner. Some were checking his belongings, others were looking at his person.

The beautiful woman’s eyes were glowing as she approached and pushed her bountiful chest on Qianye’s arm. “Little Handsome, aren’t you going to buy me a drink? Just one is enough!”

The voices Qianye could hear were simply fleeting. He nodded.

The arachne shook his head as he mixed up a similar drink and put it on the table. The werewolf lady grabbed the cup with eyes full of greed, poised to pour all of it into her mouth. But the glass had just risen from the table when it fell back down with a thud.

A hand had reached out from behind and pressed down on the werewolf lady’s wrist, forcing it onto the counter.

The werewolf lady found, to her surprise and fury, that a young vampire girl with a frosty countenance had appeared behind her. The latter spoke in a cold voice, “Scram, slut! A hairy beast like you is not worthy of this sire from our vampire race.”

The werewolf lady let out a low growl as the fangs in her mouth grew longer, “Who are you calling hairy, you lowly thing?”

The vampire girl refused to budge. “I’m talking to you! What of it?”

The werewolf roared and pounced onto the young vampire, pressing her down to the floor. The two rolled about and beat each other up in a full contact struggle. The people around them were intent on stirring up trouble. They watched on the sidelines and cheered the fighters on, but none of them had the intention to intervene. On the contrary, many of them started betting—there were some who bet on the vampire girl, but there were even more bets on the werewolf lady.

Qianye was still taking small sips from the glass, completely oblivious to the things happening behind him.

Another female appeared beside him at one point—a young lady. She sat beside him without turning her head and only asked indifferently, “Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?”

Qianye wanted to nod instinctively, but his whole body jolted after seeing her rare black hair. He only spoke after a moment of silence, “I’ll accompany you no matter how much you want to drink.”

The black-haired girl turned to gaze at Qianye with her deep, unfathomable eyes.

She suddenly laughed. “You want to get me drunk and bring me away?”

At this moment, Qianye’s thoughts were adrift and he replied quite instinctively, “If possible, then why not?” Even Qianye himself was shocked at the words he had just spoken—he would never have said such things were he sober. A few glasses of wine, and he would turn into a different person.

But the black-haired girl, which was exactly Nighteye, wasn’t angry and only responded with an indifferent tone. “You’re welcome to try. Boss, ten glasses of the usual!”

Ten glasses!

Even in his half intoxicated state, Qianye was shocked and sobered up quite a bit. Many people in the bar who had taken notice also started to cheer and howl.

The old arachne revealed a ruminating smile. Without a second word, his hands set to work at lightning speed, and soon, ten colorful decoctions appeared on the counter.

Nighteye took a cup and clinked it forcefully against Qianye’s own. “Come, bottoms up.” With that, she raised her head and allowed the flaming liquor to enter her throat.

Qianye’s countenance turned bitter. He held the glass in both hands and continued to drink in small sips as though he were taking medicine; it took him quite a while to finish it. Jeers rang out around them, and many people raised their middle fingers at Qianye.

Nighteye reached out to adjust her hair and raised yet another glass. “Come, bottoms up.”

This small movement exposed her countenance to everyone’s eyes. The rowdiness in the bar suddenly decreased by half. Their breathing gradually turned coarse as they stared fixedly at Nighteye.

Qianye continued to frown with a depressed expression as he slowly finished his second glass. This time, the jeers had lessened quite a bit. The house specialty was extremely strong, and not many here could take two glasses without falling under the table.

The bar had turned fairly silent by the time Nighteye raised the third cup. Even the two brawling ladies had stopped and were looking at Nighteye with complicated expressions.

Nighteye’s features could only be described as perfect, one that should never have appeared in such a place. Meanwhile, Qianye wasn’t really inferior either in terms of external appearance. Many people felt that the two sitting there together made quite a good match.

Many young men and women were looking at Nighteye. Many were also looking at Qianye.

And with that, the fourth cup went down.

Nighteye’s countenance was no different from the norm—it was as though she had just drunk four glasses of water. Her eyes had grown more abstruse, however. Qianye, on the other hand, had been swaying since the very first cup and was still wavering right now. But he just wouldn’t go down.

At this point, even the stupidest person would know something wasn’t quite right.

The dup was still in the same state after the fifth cup. Nothing had changed.

“Boss, another ten cups.” Nighteye’s style was just as ruthless and decisive.

But a disruption soon arrived in the form of an extremely burly werewolf. He landed a heavy slap on the counter and stooped down as he said to Nighteye, “Miss Vampire, there’s no point in drinking with that sissy. Drink with me! I, Wildfang, will satisfy you both at the drinking table and in bed! What do you say?”

Some of the other vampires drooling over Nighteye were immediately dissatisfied. One of them released his baron-level aura and said in a deep voice, “Hairy fellow, the noble vampire race isn’t something you can touch!”

Wildfang stared at the vampire baron and stood up straight with a sinister smile. The werewolf was extremely tall and had almost reached the ceiling after standing up. A wild and tyrannical aura emerged from his body, accompanied by a darkness origin power so intense that it almost seemed tangible. Quite impressively, he was a second-rank viscount.

The burly werewolf watched the vampire baron being stifled under the pressure of his aura and said with a sinister smile, “This daddy here has played with hundreds of vampire girls and toyed several dozens more to death! Do you have anything to say? I’ll tell you in passing that this daddy’s full name is Wildfang Bloodcrown.”

That vampire baron’s face was already quite pale, but his expression changed drastically after hearing the name Bloodcrown; his hands started to tremble slightly.

Bloodcrown was a powerful major tribe among the werewolves, only second to the Summit of Peaks. However, the Bloodcrowns were exceedingly radical and preferred the use of military power to solve every problem. It was one of the most aggressive werewolf tribes, and all who hail from it were extremely powerful warriors. Just like the Twelve Ancient Vampire Clans, their strength couldn’t be measured just by rank.

It was at this time that a middle-aged vampire walked over. He stood in front of the baron and said coldly, “Wildfang, he’s one of mine.”

This vampire appeared thin and weak, but the blood energy being released from his body was extremely dense—he was also a second-rank viscount. All the vampires in the bar turned pale from the suppression of his superior bloodline.

Wildfang focused his gaze and said coldly, “Brock, other’s might fear you, but I certainly don't. This lass here is mine. Are you going to bring up your noble bloodline again?”

Brock spoke while staring at Wildfang, “My family and yours are just about equal, and it’s not as if we’ve never fought either. Why must I compromise? Let’s do it like this. We’ll let her choose. How about it?”

Wildfang let out a series of sinister laughs and turned to Nighteye with hot air spouting out of his nose. “Lass, what do you say?”

Nighteye raised her hand and splashed the wine onto Wildfang’s face. She had only one word to say, and that was “Scram."

Wildfang laughed instead of getting angry and proceeded to lick the wine on his face with a scarlet tongue. “Feisty. I like it!”

The werewolf then moved his mountain-like body toward Qianye and said, “What do you say, brat?”

Qianye’s reply was even more direct. He picked up the wine glass and smashed it onto Wildfang’s face!

The glass split into several pieces with a loud bang, leaving a mixture of spirit and blood dripping down Wildfang’s face.

Wildfang was momentarily startled because he had never expected Qianye to smash his face directly. The entire bar fell silent.

“You’re courting death!” With a furious roar, Wildfang swung his fist down on Qianye!

Qianye could barely reach the werewolf’s shoulder even when standing; the difference between their physiques was simply too great. A swing of Wildfang’s fist was sure to badly injure anyone below the level of baron.

Qianye raised a single hand amidst a series of gasps and grabbed Wildfang’s heavy fist. But contrary to expectations, he wasn’t smashed to the floor. His other hand struck out at lightning speed and landed a solid blow on Wildfang’s abdomen—almost his entire forearm went into the latter’s body.

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