The situation of Xiao Clan was ever so slowly improving. Their new source of income had provided them with much needed relief, however small. They had started to make different types of soaps with different shapes and scents, which of course came with different prices. Baseline white soap with the floral scent was the same price, then there was a rose scented pink version marketed to noble ladies and another green sandalwood scented one with a sword carving on it, marketed to the ‘scholarly gentlemen’.

  The Xiao clan’s income was further improved but it was still far from enough. With their current assets they could afford to make some superficial repairs to the mansion, but fixing the defensive arrays or repaying their debts would cost a fortune, the kind of fortune they didn’t have. Which meant they needed additional sources of taels.

  For the past few days, Xiao Yun had stopped going to the library and instead he was sitting in an empty courtyard by himself, trying to digest all the new information he’d accumulated from the library so far. All their old allies had slowly abandoned them and most of their connections were gone. Xiao Yun racked his brains to try and find another avenue. They didn’t have anyone skilled in the clan for making pills or artifacts, the Third Elder had dabbled a little, but it turned out he had no talent for it, and the remining clan members didn’t really have the chance as learning to refine pills was as difficult as it was expensive, same went for artifact refining.

  As for Xiao Yun himself, he barely had any spiritual energy and very little control over it, and both artifact and pill making required controlling the ingredients as well as the special earth fire needed with his spiritual energy. Lower grade pills were already common and weren’t very profitable and if he wanted to make higher grade pills, he’d have to use spiritual sense, which would require him to break through into the Foundation Building realm. Considering he couldn’t even break into the fourth circle of the Qi Gathering realm, it was a pipe dream.

  Additionally, artifact and pill crafting required decades of study to master, decades he didn’t have. They were also dependent on his own talent in the said fields, which he also didn’t have. Not to mention something convenient like a “system”, which he also didn’t – well, you get the gist. What was left for him was his earthly knowledge…

  He started to review his few months’ worth of experience in this world in the hopes it could give him an idea. He remembered his first few weeks of confusion, his encounter with the blood cult spy, Xiao Lian’s ‘heart demon’, his misadventures with Wang Jun, and his eating and drinking habits...

  ‘Wait a minute…drinking?’ he pondered.

  From his first experience with alcohol in this world, Xiao Yun felt disappointed. The so called Peach Blossom Wine and the Dragon’s Breath Nectar felt really mild for being such expensive products.

  ‘Has this world not discovered distillation yet?’

  It couldn’t be, could it? With their magical pills and artifacts, they hadn’t bothered to purify and concentrate alcohol…?

  He quickly sprang into action and went to find a servant and asked them to bring him some of the strongest alcohol they had in their cellars. After having a taste and finding it not too different than the ones he’d consumed so far, he decided to ask someone who was a native resident of this world, someone who had a wealth of experience with alcohol.

  He quickly went to find Chunhua, the servant girl and questioned her. Assuming that she would have heard some gossip, which could be of help to him.

  "Young Master?"

  "Who in our clan is the biggest drunkard?" he asked, attempting a tone of casual, debauched curiosity. "Not just a heavy drinker mind you. I mean a true connoisseur. Someone who has tasted every rotgut and divine nectar this side of the Heavenly Flame Mountains."

  The girl blinked, her mind clearly struggling to process the Young Master's bizarre inquiry. She gave him a weird look, as if to say ‘Who do I think is the biggest drunkard in the clan? Why, you of course.’ But she refrained from voicing that thought out loud. After a few short moments of pondering, she answered with some hesitation.

  "That... that would be guard Xu, Young Master. Head Guard Xu Ming. They say he can tell the name of a wine just by the smell of it on another man's breath."

  "Perfect." Xiao Yun grinned, a genuine smile that had nothing to do with lechery and everything to do with profit. "Fetch me a sealed jar of wine from the cellar. The common stuff."

  A few minutes later, with a heavy clay jar swinging from his hand on a string, Xiao Yun strode towards the guards' training yard. The rhythmic thud of wooden dummies being struck and the sharp grunts of exertion filled the air. There in the center of the yard was Xu Ming.

  He was a man carved from granite and grievances. A network of old scars decorated his exposed, muscular arms. His face was stern, his eyes holding the weary weight of a warrior who had reached his peak long ago and found it wanting. At the apex of the Qi Gathering realm, he was the clan’s strongest protector aside from the Elders but an old injury he’d received in battle had damaged his meridians, barring his path to the Foundation Building Realm forever. His only solace, it was rumored, was the bottom of a wine jar.

  He was overseeing the drills, his voice a low growl of correction. "Sloppy! A three-year-old could dodge that! Swing properly, use your wrist to guide the sword!"

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The other guards straightened up when they saw Xiao Yun approach. Whispers rippled through their ranks. The wastrel young master was in their territory. This was unusual and therefore alarming.

  Xu Ming turned towards him with an expressionless face. He gave a stiff formal bow. "Young Master. What brings you to this humble yard?" His tone was respectful as required by his station but held no warmth. He likely expected a complaint about the noise or a demand for guards to help with some frivolous task. He had heard rumors of him changing for the better, but he didn’t have high hopes.

  Xiao Yun offered a disarming smile, the one he’d perfected for difficult clients. "Head Guard Xu, I have a matter of great importance to discuss, and I was told you were the only man with the necessary knowledge."

  He raised the jar of wine. Xu Ming's eyebrow twitched, the first sign of interest he’d shown.

  "I have a scholarly debate of sorts, you see." Xiao Yun began weaving a plausible lie. "About the limits of winemaking. I wish to know from a man of your vast experience, what is the strongest, most potent alcohol you have ever had the pleasure of tasting?"

  Xu Ming's stony expression softened by a fraction. Alcohol was a language he understood far better than the politics of a declining clan. He grunted, gesturing for Xiao Yun to follow him to a stone bench under a shady willow tree.

  "Strongest?" Xu Ming mused, taking a seat. The scent of sweat, steel and old leather clung to him. "That's a difficult question Young Master. 'Strong' can mean many things."

  "I mean potent." Xiao Yun clarified, placing the jar between them. "The kind that hits you like a fist. The kind that sets a fire in your belly. The kind a single cup of which can make a lesser man see double."

  Thinking for a short few seconds, Xu Ming's eyes took on a distant, nostalgic gleam. "There was a brew once. Up in the northern wastes, made by the barbarians. They called it 'Mammoth's Blood'. It was not wine but a mead made from wild honey and a type of fiery mountain grass. It was thick, red and burned all the way down. Half a horn was enough to make a seasoned warrior sing his clan's death song."

  "Fire in your belly you say?" Xiao Yun leaned in; his voice laced with excitement. "How did it burn? Like a pepper, or like a warmth that spreads through your limbs?"

  "Like a fire." Xu Ming said simply. "A true hot fire. Not a spice. They fermented it in sealed leather skins buried in the permafrost for three years. The cold they said, concentrated its essence."

  Xiao Yun's internal monologue was screaming with joy. ‘Fermented! Not distilled! The cold would slow fermentation, maybe allowing for a higher sugar-to-alcohol conversion before the yeast died, but it was still just fermentation!’

  To test his theory, he unsealed the jar of wine he'd brought. It was a cheap unremarkable rice wine, the kind laborers drank after a long day. He poured a cup for Xu Ming.

  The head guard took it, sniffed it once and downed it in a single gulp. He swirled the liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

  "Fermented for around six months. The rice isn't high quality, and the water has a mineral taste. From the Sunken Fields region, I'd wager." he said, his assessment as sharp and precise as a sword strike. "A passable drink for a hot day. Weak as a snow kitten's roar of course."

  "Exactly." Xiao Yun said, his eyes gleaming. "Weak. Now, this Mammoth's Blood... was it clear? Like water?"

  Xu Ming scoffed. "Clear? Young Master, it was as red and murky as its namesake. A good, strong drink has body. It has color. Clarity is for weak teas and fancy court drinks."

  ‘Bingo!’

  Xiao Yun felt an almost uncontrollable urge to cackle. Distilled spirits, especially purer ones, were clear. The entire concept of a potent, colorless liquor was alien to this world's foremost alcoholic expert. Well, at least it something uncommon enough that a lover of alcohol like Xu Ming hadn’t even heard about it. They thought strength meant flavor, color and a burn from spices or unique ingredients, not the concentrated fire of pure ethanol.

  He had to be sure.

  "Head Guard." he said, lowering his voice. "I have read in an ancient, almost forgotten text about a peculiar method of... enhancing wine. It spoke of concentrating the potency of the drink by heating it. The text claimed this liquid was the very 'spirit' of the wine, a drink of pure fire, clear as a mountain spring but more potent than anything imaginable. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

  Xu Ming stared at Xiao Yun as if he had just sprouted a second head. His brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

  "Heating wine? Young Master that would ruin it. The breath of the wine would simply escape. And collecting it? What nonsense is that? You would be left with boiled, flavorless dregs. It sounds like the ramblings of a mad alchemist. A fool's errand."

  The confirmation was so absolute, so wonderfully and beautifully ignorant that Xiao Yun had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It shouldn't be that surprising though, as it was assumed by historians that the knowledge for distilling alcohol was discovered in 8th or 9th century on earth, and the method only gained popularity by 12th or 13th centuries. In this cultivation focused world, where almost all research and development was focused on things that could improve cultivation. Be it trying to invent new pill recipes, new artifacts, formations, talismans or cultivation techniques, all of it had to do with raising one's power. Few people had the time for such frivolous inventions like 'making stronger alcohol'. They were either focused on survival or something else that directly supplemented their power or status. At least that's what Xiao Yun assumed, as this was the world inside a novel and he didn't know for sure.

  He stood up, clapping his hands together in a gesture of finality. "Ah, I see. The text must have been fraudulent then. Thank you for your wisdom Head Guard. You have settled a great debate for me."

  He left the half-full jar of wine on the bench. "A small token for your time."

  Xu Ming grunted, already pouring himself another cup of the weak wine, his mind dismissing the Young Master's bizarre theories as yet another flight of fancy from the bored and useless heir.

  As Xiao Yun walked back towards his own courtyard, his mind was filled with schematics. A large copper pot, tightly sealed. A lid with a hole. A long, coiled tube. A massive basin of cold water for the condensation coil, constantly replenished. It was simple and crude but it would work.

  The materials were cheap. The smiths in the city could fabricate the parts without asking too many questions. The raw ingredients were just the cheapest, lowest-grade rice wine they could produce. The end product, however... the end product would be a revolution in a bottle.

  He would sell it to the nouveau riche merchants who wanted to show off. He would sell it to the powerful clans who needed something stronger for their banquets. He would sell it to the grizzled mercenaries in every tavern who would pay a fortune for a drink that could finally give them the kick they craved. It would be a luxury, a status symbol, a legend. A repeat of the Mystic Cleansing Jade.