Azalea exhaled and opened her eyes. She flinched upon seeing a crowd of people staring at her. She quickly recollected the moments leading up to this event, and her eyes shifted towards Grandpa Vremya. The old man was sitting with his eyes closed. There were a few dismayed people trying to talk to him, but they were being ignored. Knowing what she knew about Grandpa Vremya, he likely thought it was a hassle and a waste of time to say anything, and of course, he was expecting her to resolve everything for him like usual. Azalea cleared her throat. “I give the wine a … nine and a half.” How could she not give the wine a high score when it directly increased her strength? However, she had to deduct half a point because drinking that wine was like repeatedly drowning, and honestly, it was a little traumatic.

“No side effects?” her mother asked, probing Azalea’s body with her gaze. With a determined expression, her mother picked up the glass of wine and chugged it in one gigantic mouthful. She slumped backwards, dropping the glass. Luckily, it only bounced off the ground instead of shattering. Froth foamed out of her open mouth as her eyes rolled up into her head, revealing their whites.

“Isn’t this a side effect?” Azalea’s uncle muttered from off to the side. He snorted and picked up his glass of wine. He didn’t believe a single cup could cause him to blackout! He copied his sister and downed the wine in one gulp. Then, he passed out.

Azalea’s brother looked at his mom and uncle as if they were lunatics. Could this even be called a wine-brewing competition anymore? It seemed more like the judges were competing with one another to see who had a higher tolerance to poison. “This wine is simply unpalatable. There’s no taste, and the contents are too strong for even the above-average person. I’ll give this wine half a poi—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Azalea wrapped the liquid contents of her brother’s cup with her qi and manipulated it into the air. It was like an eel swimming into a reef, and before he even realized what was happening, Azalea’s brother collapsed face-first onto the table. The emperor stared at his daughter, and she gave him a beaming smile in return. The old saying was true. Once a daughter found a man she was interested in, she treated her family like poop floating down a river.

The emperor couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. At the very least, there was a glass of wine available for him to wash his sorrows away. He picked up the glass and sipped on it, drinking it similarly to how Azalea had done it. However, there was something strange. With every taste and experience of the darkness similar to death, his nascent soul grew. It was barely noticeable, but by the time he finished the glass, he was sure his nascent soul had grown by around half a millimeter. A strange light flashed in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile at Grandpa Vremya. “Ten out of ten.” He climbed to his feet, and the crowd around the stage got down on their knees. The emperor pointed at Grandpa Vremya. “You are the winner of this half-century’s wine-brewing contest.”

Grandpa Vremya opened his eyes. “Of course. Where’s my prize?”

The emperor laughed and descended from the judges’ seating area. He took out a deep-green jade box adorned with golden patterns. He opened it, revealing a sapphire necklace, and handed the open box to Grandpa Vremya. “After binding the necklace, you’ll find the armor within its subspace.”

Grandpa Vremya nodded and took the necklace, putting it on in front of the watching crowd. He didn’t care about their expressions as he tested out the necklace’s functions, storing the jade box within. The spirit stones that he carried around with him disappeared as well, making his body feel much slimmer.

“Young friend,” the emperor said and placed a hand on Grandpa Vremya’s shoulder. “I can’t help but wonder if you have any more of that wine. If you do, I’ll purchase it at a good price.”

Grandpa Vremya raised an eyebrow. His next course of action after receiving the armor was to explore tempering grounds and pocket realms to earn spirit stones and treasures. If he could make more by creating and selling wine, then obviously he’d do that instead. “How much is a reasonable price?”

“How does twenty thousand spirit stones per bottle sound?” the emperor asked, causing the merchants and restaurant owners who were eavesdropping on the side to gasp. “Of course, if you can make other wines, ones with … more flavor, I’d be willing to buy those as well.”

A furrow appeared on Grandpa Vremya’s brow, and the emperor had a feeling he was about to be rejected. He was about to say something else, but Grandpa Vremya opened his mouth first. “The price is too high. Fifteen thousand spirit stones per bottle is enough.”

“Huh?”

Grandpa Vremya nodded. The wine didn’t cost much to make; if he sold it for too high of a price, it’d be considered as profiteering, and that would gather as much bad karma as robbery. The last thing he wanted was to sow bad karma lest it hinder his cultivation in the future. He wasn’t going to be blinded by immediate short-term gains. Honestly, he didn’t think wine-brewing could be so lucrative. Why would lower lifeforms pay to ingest impurities when they were pursuing immortality? It was baffling, but if they were willing to pay him to hinder their progress without incurring bad karma on him, then he’d do it. “I can make other wines too, but their flavor and quality will depend on what I can find in the market.”

“Forget about the market,” the emperor said. “You’re free to take whatever you want from the royal vineyards, and you’ll be given authority over the royal gardens to plant whatever you see fit.”

Grandpa Vremya nodded. If he knew winning the wine-brewing competition had extra benefits like these, he wouldn’t have even bothered plotting the path of pocket realms he was supposed to loot. As the avatar of a god, he preferred it this way too. Competing against lower lifeforms for scraps was so boorish.

“Hey, put the armor on,” Azalea said. At some point, she had come down from the judges’ seating area. “We have to make sure it fits.” Her eyes lit up. What would Grandpa Vremya look like when wearing the armor of the Frostwind Empire? When she was younger, she had watched the military parades with her family. Although she didn’t remember many details about it now, nearly a hundred years later, she could still recall the awe she felt when thousands of soldiers marched through the streets wearing the silver and blue colors of the empire.

“It doesn’t matter,” Grandpa Vremya said. “I’m not going to wear the armor.”

Azalea’s expression blanked. “What do you mean? Didn’t you say you wanted to join this competition because of the armor?”

“Yes,” Grandpa Vremya said. “I’m going to create a golem out of it.” He raised at eyebrow at Azalea’s crestfallen face. “What? Did you expect me to wear it myself and fight people in hand-to-hand combat?”

After thinking about it, Azalea realized Grandpa Vremya was right. She couldn’t imagine him in a fight. During the only “fight” she had ever saw him in, he ignored his opponent and cultivated on top of a turtle shell. It was much more of his style to command a golem to fight his opponent than actually confront them himself. But still, just because it made sense didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to feel disappointed, right?

Grandpa Vremya’s nose twitched, and he let out a sigh. A moment later, a suit of silver and blue armor materialized on his body. “If I want to control the golem properly, I suppose its limbs and chest cavity should be adjusted to measurements I’m familiar with.” He struck a few poses to test the flexibility of the armor and not because of any other reason. After a minute, he put the armor away. “It fits.”

Azalea put away the recording device that had somehow ended up in her hands and beamed at Grandpa Vremya. “It suits you.”

The emperor cleared his throat, clearly unhappy with being treated like a piece of poop floating down a river by his very own daughter. “Congratulations, again, on your victory.” He raised his head and scanned the crowd. “This concludes this half-century’s wine-brewing contest. I hope to see you all again in fifty years.”

“Long live the emperor!” the crowd chanted. However, there was one person in the crowd who was squeezing out the words through gritted teeth, the handsome guard. His eyes blazed like two candlewicks. How could he remain calm after witnessing the scene of his crush flirting with another man? The answer was simple; he couldn’t!