"Luck is also part of strength," Mr. Burn said jovially with a soft "Gulu~" as he took a slow sip from the wine gourd.
Ethan, amused, took back the gourd and hung it by his waist. "Eh... you’re such a cheapskate."
"If Mr. Burn wants more, I’ve got a big tank full at my place. I can fill a few jars after I finish fishing. If you can’t wait, just give me your address and I’ll send some tomorrow."
Mr. Burn’s eyes twinkled with delight. "A big tank? So much, huh?"
"You go ahead and fish. I have nothing pressing today, so I’ll just wait here," Mr. Burn replied.
Shaking his head, Ethan thought the old man was simply a lover of good wine—an authentic enthusiast, perhaps no more, no less.
No ill intent clouded Mr. Burn’s presence, just simple appreciation.
After a while, Ethan caught three more Azurefin Carp, still five short of completing his task.
"I see you only keep carp and release all other fish. Is there a reason?" Mr. Burn inquired, curiosity softening his voice.
"No particular reason; I just want carp today," Ethan answered simply, eyes focused on the shimmering lure.
Mr. Burn sighed, shaking his head.
"Young people today... can be so hard to understand."
As dusk deepened and the sky fell into a soft, dark gloom, snowflakes began to drift once more.
The lake and forest grew quiet under the gentle blanket.
Ethan finally caught twenty Azurefin Carp, completing the day’s mission.
[Congratulations on completing today’s mission and receiving the reward: Mystic Marrow Tempering Lotion!]
[Congratulations to the host for being so lucky and winning the mysterious grand prize: Divine Flame Body Building Technique!]
A faint smile crossed Ethan’s lips as he blessed the rewards into his inventory.
Mr. Burn sat quietly beside him, and Ethan decided to wait until the elder left before delving into the newly acquired treasures.
He carefully placed all the carp in a wooden basin, releasing the smaller fish and the carps. He kept two snakeheaded fish and a mackerel—the boneless, tender flesh was perfect for cooking.
"Hey... why release all the fish you caught after a full day’s effort?" Mr. Burn asked, puzzled.
"Carp isn’t so tasty. I kept these three because I want you to try my cooking," Ethan replied, amusement tinting his voice.
"Forget cooking—give me more wine! After a day , that’s more important," Mr. Burn chuckled with a yawn.
"Alright," Ethan said with a mimic grin, "let’s head back. You must be getting tired."
As they strolled back side by side, Mr. Burn suddenly looked to the heavy snowfall blanketing the world ahead and his brow furrowed slightly.
"Commander Lilith again," Ethan said, nodding toward a movement in the distance. "She’s at it every morning, like clocking in for work. But this time, she ran away after just one look."
Ethan suspected it was because of Mr. Burn’s presence beside him—somehow the elder’s aura deterred even Lilith’s relentless curiosity.
"What’s wrong, Mr. Burn?" Ethan asked, watching the elder’s expression carefully.
"Nothing. Just stay inside tonight. I’ll warm myself up with a few jars of peach blossom wine," came the calm reply.
Back at his modest home, Ethan moved leisurely toward the kitchen. Three large tanks of wine stood in the corner—full, inviting.
"Mr. Burn," Ethan said, "there’s plenty in those tanks. Feel free to fill your jars yourself. I’ll start preparing food."
Mr. Burn approached, uncorked a tank, and took in the rich, intoxicating aroma as if he had found treasure.
He summoned ten empty jars from the air, and methodically filled them with the velvety liquid. Sitting down, he savored the first cup with the appreciation of a sommelier.
Meanwhile, Ethan began heating the fish—grilling one with pungent garlic and black bean paste, another with spicy chili, and the last seasoned simply, highlighting its subtle sweetness.
The fragrant aroma quickly embraced the kitchen, stirring even Mr. Burn’s long-dull appetite. His gaze lingered lovingly on the sizzling food, marveling as if tasting delight for the first time in years.
"Mr. Burn," Ethan said with a smile as the dishes came to the table, "your wine is ready too, and after all this effort, I think it’s time for some rest."
"Cough, cough," Mr. Burn replied in a raspy tone, "It’s snowing outside, and your food smells too good to leave. I was quite a gourmet in my youth. Tonight, I’ll stay and offer you advice on your craft."
Ethan snickered inwardly, amused by the old man’s doggedness, but nodded, sharing the humble meal.
"Remember," Mr. Burn advised between sips, "drink the wine with raw fish, not cooked. It’s the best way to let the wine’s flavor bloom. Avoid forcing yourself to quell the alcohol’s scent—it’s a waste of skill."
"I got it, Mr. Burn. I’ll follow your orders," Ethan said playfully.
"Let me toast you, senior," Ethan said, lifting his cup with genuine warmth and drinking it in one smooth motion.
Half an hour passed. Both men were serene, lightly intoxicated, voices low yet vivid as they shared stories of fantasy worlds—of strange lands and legendary figures in Ethan’s dreams.
"In the land of my dreams," Ethan shared between laughter and hiccups,
"there’s something called Douyin. It’s a place full of beauty—thousands of kilometers away dancers perform just for you."
"And in these dreams," he added with dreamy awe, "there’s a peerless man named Anthony Null. After 18 years of his birth, he’s reached understanding beyond measure. He’s unmatched."
Mr. Burn laughed heartily, allowing himself the warmth of companionship, his eyes glittering with enjoyment.
"You are special, Ethan, even your dreams are extraordinary."
As the wine flowed and the stories deepened, plates and cups clustered in their wake, the kitchen alive with the scent of a feast and the warmth of shared company.
Ethan finally declared, "Mr. Burn, I’ve had ten jars already. The disciple is ready to rest."
"You’re so young—it’s too soon to pass out!" Mr. Burn exclaimed with a grin despite himself. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ⓝovelFire.net
"I’ve enjoyed today immensely. Take care."
Ethan walked the older man to his door. "Spirit and body must be balanced. Come again."
But Mr. Burn waved off the escort. "I’m not drunk, just content," he said before drifting away on the falling snow.
As the door closed behind him, Ethan’s eyes narrowed fiercely. He felt the blood surge through his veins, flushing out the remnants of alcohol, clearing his mind. Then slowly exhaled, his form settling back into quiet readiness.
That old man was a character, puffing and boasting like a true force of nature. Ethan smiled slightly to himself and resumed his work.
Returning to the kitchen, he noticed two large wine tanks were gone—emptied during their meal. His brow twitched in mild frustration.
"Damn it, old man," Ethan muttered. "No martial ethics at all, taking my wine without a word."
But some things were better left unchallenged. He shrugged and set about cleaning up, resolved to simply brew more when he could.
Then his sharp eyes caught two unfamiliar objects resting on the wooden table—a scroll tightly rolled and a purple-gold jade pendant glinting faintly in the candlelight.
Ethan reached out, fingers closing thoughtfully around the items. The night was far from over.