The 1979 Immortal Tournament

Let us set aside Cai Yan and Diao Chan for now, and turn our attention back to Luan Yi.

The journey was long, yet time pressed urgently. Luan Yi, traveling light, accompanied by Dian Wei and four horses, hurried day and night straight toward Youzhou. By the time they arrived at Zhuo County, winter was just beginning.

After paying the full city tax, Luan Yi and Dian Wei made inquiries throughout the city, eventually finding their way to the grand Zhang family residence.

This was a house with a shop in front and living quarters at the back. To the west stood the Zhang family’s butcher shop, selling pork, beef, mutton, and offal. On the eastern side was a wine tavern, which, in the depths of winter, was somewhat deserted as people were loath to venture out.

Dian Wei was about to enter and ask the servants after the master’s whereabouts when Luan Yi stopped him, saying, “We’ve been battered by wind and dew these days, our provisions are long gone, and now, having finally reached our destination, why not enjoy some wine and meat before tending to business?”

Dian Wei licked his cracked lips and nodded eagerly.

The two stepped into the tavern and, under the guidance of a servant, took seats by a brazier.

The servant greeted them with a beaming smile. “What would the two gentlemen like to eat?”

“Bring out your best wine and finest meat!” Dian Wei replied, his tone hearty, his voice resounding like a bell.

“Right away! However…” The servant hesitated, faltering, “Our best wine is called 'Better than Immortal Brew.' It is mellow, spicy, and truly delicious, but…”

At the mention of “Better than Immortal Brew,” Dian Wei’s face darkened. In his eyes, the best wine in the world was none other than Luan family’s own Immortal Brew. How could there be another so-called Better than Immortal Brew here in humble Zhuo County? The name alone was a direct challenge—Immortal Brew, Better than Immortal Brew—wasn’t this proclaiming that this newcomer surpassed the original? Dian Wei was about to lose his temper when Luan Yi firmly pressed down his clenched fist and shook his head.

Luan Yi smiled broadly at the servant. “You didn’t finish your sentence, my friend. Speak freely.”

The servant, having been startled by Dian Wei’s accidental display of menace, now relaxed at Luan Yi’s gentle demeanor. “It’s just that Better than Immortal Brew is quite expensive—thirty taels of silver per jar.”

“Oh…” Luan Yi laughed heartily. “Is that all! Rest assured, friend, thirty taels is no problem.” With that, he fetched a gold piece from his pack and slapped it on the table. “Here!”

The servant’s eyes lit up. “Esteemed guest, a meal won’t cost nearly this much gold. I… I’m afraid I can’t give you change…”

“I know!” Luan Yi nodded. “Never mind, the extra is your tip!”

“What?” The servant was stunned as if struck by a hammer. He quickly calculated: even if the meal cost seventy taels, the remaining thirty were his to keep. Thirty taels—he’d have to work as a server for thirty years, saving every coin, to amass so much. He was so delighted he nearly leaped for joy. Which god had blessed him today to bring such a wealthy patron? He nodded so fervently his head seemed to bobble, pouring out thanks. “Thank you, thank you, kind sir…”

“That’s enough!” Dian Wei said impatiently. “Fetch this so-called Better than Immortal Brew at once. If it’s undrinkable, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“Yes, yes!” The servant dashed to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Rest assured, sirs, our master’s Better than Immortal Brew is the finest in Hebei!”

Luan Yi scoffed inwardly. He was supremely confident in his own distilled liquor—knowledge he had acquired elsewhere. In this Han dynasty, only Immortal Brew deserved to be called true liquor. Still, he was curious what this “finest in Hebei” might be.

Soon, dishes and wine were brought forth. Luan Yi eagerly took the wine jar, broke the seal, and his brow furrowed deeply.

The wine was crystal clear, free of any impurities, with an aroma both mellow and fiery—almost identical to Immortal Brew.

At this, Luan Yi’s first thought was that someone from his own distillery had leaked the secret method. But then he reconsidered: his craftsmen were all loyal old hands, and, more importantly, devout followers of the Holy Mother’s Church. According to its doctrine, revealing church secrets was a grave sin, punished by eternal damnation. With these two safeguards, betrayal seemed unlikely.

Could the tavern owner have worked out the method after tasting Immortal Brew himself? Impossible! Luan Yi had relied on his own glassware to condense the distillate—how could anyone else replicate this?

Unless…

Luan Yi’s eyes flashed open. Could the owner have bought glass bottles from the Luan family and used them to distill liquor?

That must be it—a true genius. Did this mean that Immortal Brew’s monopoly had been broken by Better than Immortal Brew?

This was precisely what Luan Yi least wished to see.

He quickly poured a bowl of the wine, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled deeply. The aroma lingered, nearly indistinguishable from Immortal Brew. He touched his tongue to it, tasted carefully, and finally allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

Fortunately, though this Better than Immortal Brew resembled Immortal Brew in appearance, its texture was rougher, less smooth. In terms of quality, it fell short; thus, Immortal Brew retained its brand advantage. Even better, along his journey, Luan Yi had encountered only this one imitation, suggesting that the distillation technique remained in the hands of himself and this one tavern owner—a duopoly between Immortal Brew and Better than Immortal Brew. Judging by the supply, the upstart’s output was limited; most of the profits remained with Luan Yi.

Relaxing, Luan Yi’s spirits rose, and the wine tasted all the sweeter. He drained a bowl of Immortal Brew and laughed heartily, “Fine wine, splendid wine!”

Dian Wei, unaware of the thoughts racing through Luan Yi’s mind, hesitated and took a swig himself. Smacking his lips, he complained, “What is this stuff? Nowhere near as good as the Immortal Brew from Jinan!”

Just then, the shopkeeper, having entered quietly, overheard every word. With a beaming smile, he stepped forward and asked, “Sirs, pardon my interruption, but have you ever tasted the genuine Immortal Brew?”

Dian Wei was about to declare, “Immortal Brew was created by my own master!”—but Luan Yi cut him off, replying, “I’ve had the good fortune to taste it once by chance.”

“Oh?” The shopkeeper’s eyes lit up and he bowed deeply. “Gentlemen, to be frank, this Better than Immortal Brew is made according to our master’s method, imitating the Immortal Brew of the Luan family in Jinan. Alas, after sampling his own creation, our master always laments that it falls short of the original, but cannot pinpoint exactly why. He keeps urging us to improve it, determined that even if it cannot surpass Immortal Brew, it should at least be nearly as good. But we lowly servants have never tasted such a rare and precious wine—we don’t even know its true flavor, let alone how to improve upon it. Our master presses us daily and scolds us if there’s no progress within half a month—life has become insufferable, and we have no solution. Just now, seeing the way this young gentleman sampled the wine, I recognized a true connoisseur. Since you have tasted our Better than Immortal Brew, might you discern where it falls short of Immortal Brew?”

Luan Yi smiled, unhurried, and once again sniffed the wine, swirled it in his bowl to observe its color, then sipped a little and let it linger on his tongue. Assuming the air of a sage, he finally replied, “I know a thing or two.”

“Oh?” The shopkeeper was overjoyed, bowing repeatedly. “In that case, please allow me to thank you in advance. Master, please wait here while I fetch the owner. When he arrives, I hope you will share your insights with him.” With that, he hurried off to the back courtyard.

A short while later, instead of the shopkeeper, a peal of thunderous laughter rolled through the tavern, followed by the entrance of a burly man with a stride like a dragon or tiger. He stood a full eight feet tall, with a leopard’s head, round eyes, a swallow’s jaw, and a tiger’s beard, exuding an air of wild vigor—a true man of action!

Luan Yi could not help but praise him in his heart: this could only be the famed Yanman, Zhang Fei of Changban Bridge.

Zhang Fei swept the hall with his gaze, his eyes quickly settling on Dian Wei. He looked him up and down—over nine feet tall, even bigger than himself, clearly a man who could hold his liquor. He strode over, clasped his fists in a martial salute, and boomed, “Is it this stalwart who has found my wine lacking?”

The shopkeeper hurried forward to correct him, gesturing to Luan Yi. “Master, you’re mistaken. It is this gentleman who is learned in the way of wine.”

“Oh?” Zhang Fei eyed Luan Yi incredulously. The youth stood over seven feet, with a face like white jade, robed in scholar’s white—a most elegant young man. In Zhang Fei’s mind, scholars were more delicate than bold, and Luan Yi looked barely more than a boy. How could such a one understand the art of wine? “You mean him?” he scoffed.

“Yes, indeed!” the shopkeeper assured him.

Zhang Fei’s expression turned disdainful. Hands behind his back, he said impatiently to Luan Yi, “Very well, tell me then—how does my Better than Immortal Brew fall short of Immortal Brew? If you are right, so be it; if not, do not blame me, Zhang Yide, for taking offense at such slander!”

“You—” Dian Wei was about to call him a brute, but Luan Yi silenced him with a look.

Luan Yi replied calmly, “As you wish.” He paused, then analyzed, “In sampling your Better than Immortal Brew and comparing it to Immortal Brew, the difference lies not in color, nor in aroma, but in the sensation upon drinking. Immortal Brew is smoother on the palate, as if drinking cream, while yours is a touch astringent. Moreover, before Immortal Brew descends to the stomach, it leaves a lingering sweetness in the throat—this your wine entirely lacks. Thus, Immortal Brew is the more delicious.”

“Oh?” Zhang Fei pondered this carefully—indeed, such a difference existed. How had he not noticed before? His attitude softened, becoming respectful. “May I ask, sir, how this flaw might be resolved?”