The Little Fox's Immortal Cultivation Encyclopedia

Chapter 151 The Wine Worm

After finishing a bowl of wine, the drunkard put down the empty bowl and reached for the wine pot again.

"Another bowl, please."

The moment he reached out his hand, the fox had already gently moved the wine jug away.

It smiled and said, "This wine isn't free. If you want to drink it, you'll have to tell me why first."

The drunkard persisted, trying to snatch the drink again: "What reason do you need for drinking? How about this, I also wish Manager Li a safe and peaceful journey, is that alright?"

The fox deliberately shook the wine jug, letting the sound of the wine seep into his ears: "Others don't need to drink, but you do. Won't you introduce us to what's in your belly?"

The drunkard's expression changed, he instinctively shrank his stomach, and turned to leave, but just as he turned, he suddenly clutched his stomach.

"Hmm"

A rumbling sound came from his stomach. His expression changed, and he hurriedly clenched his fist and tapped his stomach three times. The rumbling stopped for a moment, then continued incessantly, causing him to curl up in pain.

"Sir, sir, what's wrong?" The waiter was startled and quickly reached out to help him. "Did you eat something bad?"

Even through his clothes, everyone could see the drunkard's belly rising and falling slightly. Just seeing this eerie sight made the waiter somewhat uneasy.

Slightly sweating: "Oh no, oh no; what if something happens to you in the shop, sir? How am I supposed to explain this?"

The drunkard's face was deathly pale, his lips trembling as he managed to squeeze out a few words: "Help, help—"

"Don't worry, I'll go get a doctor right away!" he said, and started to run out, but the fox grabbed him and pulled him back. There was no village or shop in sight, and by the time he got a doctor, the drunkard would probably be dying from the pain.

Moreover, there's no need to call a doctor.

"Just a bowl of wine, please."

The waiter was both anxious and angry: "We're already in this situation, and you still want to drink!"

The fox ignored him, squatted down, and pressed his hand against the drunkard's abdomen: "Don't panic, I know a little about medicine, I'm a doctor."

The waiter's eyes widened: "Young master, you can even treat illnesses?"

Yes, someone as skilled in martial arts as you, young master, who dares to roam the martial world with his family, would naturally know some medical arts.

The merchant hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Young master, if I may be so bold as to ask, from which master did you learn your medical skills, and how many people have you treated before?"

The fox told the truth: "I've never healed a human."

Spirits and monsters are not considered human.

"And you still dared to lay a hand on me!"

"It's alright, I also know a little about coroner's procedures."

The drunkard watched helplessly as the young master's hand drew ever closer: "Help, help me—"

The fox ignored him, its magic power probing into his palm as it sensed the power.

In the darkness, a strange insect seemed to be curled up. The fox stared at it for a while before finally spotting two small black dots that looked like eyes at one end, barely managing to distinguish the head from the tail.

"The wine worm is a spirit of wine. It is shaped like a silkworm, about an inch long, and golden in color. It loves to eat the smell of wine. When it parasitizes a person's abdomen, that person becomes addicted to wine and suffers abdominal cramps if they do not drink. However, the wine brewed by those who have this worm is exceptionally mellow and is priceless."

The fox's expression tightened as it intently examined how the wine worm caused abdominal cramps.

The worm was writhing from side to side, looking agitated. It first curled up into a ball, then suddenly stretched out and slammed its head against the stomach wall.

"The 'woo woo woo' wasn't the drunkard's cry of pain, but rather the low moaning of the worms that were being pushed back against the stomach wall. The sound grew more and more urgent, like the whimpering of Big Yellow when it was being beaten."

It shook its head and flipped its body, trying different ways to rub against itself, poking with its tail, and even taut its whole body like a bow, ready to launch itself.

The drunkard's face contorted in pain, veins bulging, his mouth agape, only able to hiss. The waiter, watching anxiously, couldn't help but ask, "Young master, how are you? Are you alright?"

The fox nodded: "Quiet, you're about to do a somersault."

The waiter was stunned, completely bewildered: "Young master, I was just asking, is he alright?"

The fox continued nodding: "It's good, it's fun."

The waiter stepped back. The young master had seemed quite handsome and reliable just moments before, so why was he spouting nonsense now?

Could this strange disease be contagious? Did the young master become possessed the moment he started treating her?

Or perhaps this young master has some kind of grudge against the drunkard. On the surface, he claims to be treating the illness, but in reality, he is deliberately watching the drunkard suffer, pretending to be crazy to delay the time. Once the drunkard dies from the pain, he will shift the blame to the shop, leaving him speechless and unable to defend himself. At best, he will be punished, and at worst, he may even face legal trouble!

No, no, young master is so approachable, showing no airs towards a lowly servant like myself, even personally pouring me wine. He's definitely not that kind of person. I've judged him with my own petty mind; I deserve a beating.

The guy raised his hand and slapped himself.

The merchant stared in disbelief, his gaze shifting between the pale-faced drunkard, the smiling young master, the waiter slapping himself in the face, and the woman calmly watching in silence. He couldn't help but wonder if mushrooms had been mixed into the soup.

The fox wasn't just watching the spectacle; it gestured to Hu Nianshuang with its eyes.

Hu Nianshuang understood and reached out to stroke the drunkard's head, using magic to alleviate the pain. The alcohol cravings were still raging, but the pain seemed to be covered by a thin veil, and the drunkard's expression gradually calmed down.

"Thank you both," the drunkard said in a hoarse voice.

"Tell me, what happened?" The fox coughed lightly, regaining its serious demeanor. "When did you develop this strange ailment?"

The drunkard was helped to sit up, and after a while, he slowly spoke: "I used to run a winery."

"My family's winery has been passed down for three generations. I grew up next to the wine vats. While other children smelled the aroma of milk, I smelled the aroma of wine. As a result, I developed a habit of liking to try new things. Whenever I hear about good wine, I will try my best to get a taste."

"Last autumn, around this time, I went to Yunxi County and happened to be there during the World Natural History Fair."

"I originally just wanted to see what new and interesting things there were, but by sheer coincidence, I discovered that someone was selling ancient wine from a previous dynasty, saying it had just been dug up from the ground."

"So you bought it and drank it?"

The drunkard nodded: "I'll buy it and drink it."

Everyone looked at them with admiration, even the fox.

The fox buried the rabbit in the ground and didn't dare to dig it up even after a month. But this man was different; he dared to swallow wine that had been stored for at least three hundred years.

While wine can be stored for a long time, it shouldn't be this bad. No wonder you have a stomachache.

The drunkard, oblivious to everything, said with gleaming eyes, "The wine was poured out thick like honey, and its color was also like honey, only more golden. I've lived for over forty years and have never seen wine like that before."

"From then on, my brewing skills improved by leaps and bounds, and the distillery's business improved a lot. But I had no interest in running it. I just wanted to drink every day, and once I started, I couldn't stop. Drinking had become a kind of torture for me."

He stopped talking and watched as the fox poured a glass of wine and pushed it in front of him.

"Drink, it's on you."

The gloom between the drunkard's brows vanished, and he accepted the drink with a broad smile, downing it in one gulp.

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