When evil gods hold a meeting in my head

Dansha walked to a workbench with various tools, measuring cups, and bottles and jars filled with liquids of different colors.

He rolled up his sleeves: "Uncle... come here, I'll teach you how to make Flaming Liquor."

The bottles and jars in front of Richard gleamed with different lusters under the dim light.

The aroma of alcohol in the air was very strong, mixed with the scent of oak barrels and various fruits, which was quite intoxicating.

Dansha took several empty bottles from the shelf and placed them on the worktable, then took a few measuring cups and a thin stirring rod.

His movements were very skilled, clearly indicating that he did this job often; every movement was smooth and without any unnecessary actions.

"Uncle, there's something I have to say... Although you have a great business sense and are very good at doing business, you're definitely not as good at bartending as I am. I grew up in bars, surrounded by the smell of alcohol. I can't say for sure about anything else, but I inherited my father's bartending skills. My father said that my nose is more sensitive than a dog's; I can tell what's missing in a drink just by smelling it."

Richard nodded: "Okay, you take charge, I'll assist you."

Dansha smiled and took a large bottle from the shelf, filled with an amber liquid: "This is the base spirit, our tavern's own brewed rum, made from sugarcane. People who work on ships love to drink this."

He glanced at it at Richard, then poured some into the measuring cup, pouring it precisely to the mark on the cup: "This is the core of Flame Rum; everything else is just an add-on. My father said that rum should be aged for at least three years. Rum that's too young doesn't have enough flavor, and rum that's too old is too strong. Three years is just right."

He took another bottle from the shelf, filled with a clear liquid that looked like water but smelled strongly of alcohol; you could feel its potency just by getting close: "This is a high-proof distilled spirit, much stronger than regular liquor. It's specially made to increase the alcohol content, and it's an essential base spirit for 'Fire Spirit.' That's why drinking 'Fire Spirit' will instantly make you feel hot!"

He then took down several small bottles from the shelf, filled with liquids of various colors... He lined up the bottles and slowly introduced them to Richard: "This is cherry juice, made entirely from fresh cherries..."

He paused, then picked up another bottle containing a dark red liquid. This bottle was smaller than the others, and its color was much darker...

"This liquid looks a bit like a potion ingredient...it seems to contain extraordinary properties..." Richard muttered.

He stared at the bottle of deep red liquid, a sudden thought striking him. He asked Dansha, "What is this liquid?"

Dansha clicked his tongue: "My father collected these, but I don't know what they are."

Upon hearing this, Richard didn't ask any further questions and silently noted down the ingredients for this bottle of wine...

A few minutes later… Dansha began mixing the cocktail. He first poured rum into a large glass, his movements steady, the liquid flowing down the side of the glass without spilling a drop. Then he added a little high-proof spirit, followed by several fruit juices and honey, each added just right, not too much, not too little. He picked up a stirring rod and stirred the liquid in the glass, his movements light and quick, the liquid swirling with his movements, the color slowly becoming even.

"Uncle, could you bring that bottle over here for me?" he said, pointing to a bottle of ginger juice on the shelf without looking up.

Richard reached out and took the bottle from him, handing it to him.

Dansha took it, added a few drops to the glass, and stirred it. Then he put down the stirring rod, picked up the bottle of deep red flame grass extract, and his expression became very focused. He carefully opened the stopper, tilted the bottle, and a drop of deep red liquid dripped into the glass.

He counted: "One drop, two drops, three drops."

After three drops, he immediately put the stopper back in and put the bottle back on the shelf.

"This can't be too much," he said seriously. "Too much will cause problems. My dad said that someone tried adding just one extra drop, and after drinking it, he was bedridden for three days with a burning fever and almost didn't make it back."

He continued stirring, and the color of the liquid in the cup slowly changed, from the initial amber to a deeper color with a faint reddish glow, like the color of the setting sun on the sea, or like flames dancing in the cup.

"That's about right," Dansha said, picking up a small spoon, scooping a little from the cup, and gently tasting it. He squinted, smacked his lips, and frowned slightly, as if he were savoring something.

Richard looked at him without saying a word.

A few seconds later, Dansha's brows relaxed and he nodded.

"That's it, that's the taste. The ginger flavor is a little too strong, but the bartender looks young, he should be able to handle it." He put down the spoon, poured the mixed drink into a tall, narrow bottle, and carefully poured it without spilling a drop. Then he picked up the cork, tightened it, looked at Richard, and grinned.

"Uncle, let's go upstairs, saving lives is the priority."

Richard nodded and followed him upstairs.

When I returned to the lobby, the clerk was still sitting next to the bartender, staring intently at him without blinking, as if he were completing some important task. The bartender was still lying on the bench, his face frighteningly pale, his lips purple, his whole body curled up in a ball, trembling every now and then.

Dansha strode over, squatted down, and tilted the bartender's head up slightly. He opened the bottle of freshly mixed flaming liquor, brought it to the bartender's lips, and carefully poured a small sip into his mouth.

The bartender's throat moved, and he swallowed instinctively.

Dansha waited a few seconds, stared at the bartender's face, and then poured another small sip into his mouth.

They fed him spoonful by spoonful, pausing for a few seconds between each spoonful, as if observing the bartender's reaction. After about five or six spoonfuls, the bottle was almost half empty.

Dansha stopped, put the bottle aside, and stared at the bartender's face.

The hall was quiet, with only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace and the sound of waves lapping against the pier in the distance.

A few seconds later, the bartender's expression changed.

It didn't get better; it became even whiter, as white as paper, frighteningly white. It wasn't a normal white; it was a white devoid of any color, like a dead person.

Richard's heart tightened, and he was about to ask when the bartender's face began to flush again. It went from pale to an unnatural flush, like someone drunk, or like someone with a high fever. The red started on his cheeks and quickly spread across his entire face, even his ears turned red.

"This is..." Richard couldn't help but ask.

Dansha waved his hand, signaling him to be quiet, his eyes fixed intently on the bartender's face.

Just then, the bartender suddenly opened his eyes, opened his mouth, and gasped for breath.

Whoosh whoosh!

"I...I..."

Dansha helped him sit up, let him lean against the back of the chair, and then picked up the bottle of Flame Liquor and poured a mouthful into his mouth.

The bartender swallowed instinctively. After finishing the sip, his complexion slowly returned to normal, and his breathing became steady. "What... just happened?"

Dansha said, "You fainted outside last night and almost froze to death."

The bartender stared at his clothes, momentarily stunned. "But it's summer..."

"Who knows?" Dansha shrugged, placing the half-empty bottle of Flame Liquor on the table beside him. "Anyway, you're alright now, thanks to my uncle's help."

He pointed at Richard.

The bartender looked at Richard, his eyes filled with gratitude: "...Uncle? Thank you..."

Richard shook his head, walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "It's okay, get some rest..."