The Poet of Great Love's Life Is a Life Too

The Poet of Great Love glanced back at Antanas and Sinora. He was considering whether to call for outside help. Logically speaking, these two Tier 8 demons ought to be far better drinkers than any human. However, if they got drunk, the violent rampages those two sisters might unleash would be entirely unstoppable. Furthermore, if the last Domination priest passed out from drinking, he wouldn't be able to swap identities with Pranay; he needed to maintain a certain degree of clear consciousness. That left only two candidates: either he drank, or Hyperion drank. "Hyperion, how is your alcohol tolerance?" the Poet of Great Love asked. "I haven't tried much. It's probably neither good nor bad," Hyperion answered uncertainly. Hearing that, a troubled look appeared on the Poet of Great Love's face. "Uh..." Seeing this rare expression on the Poet of Great Love, Hyperion hesitated as she realized that, in her memory, Lanqi never touched a drop of alcohol. Back at the Banquet of Sanctuary Villains, when Lanqi saw the extremely low-proof sweet white grape wine and Frey urged him to drink, he had merely smiled and shaken his head. Could it be that Lanqi had no tolerance at all? Was he terrified of drinking? Surely not. Hyperion found it difficult to imagine Lanqi collapsed drunk. Regardless, she made a mental note never to let Lanqi accidentally consume any food containing alcohol in the future. "How about I do it?" Hyperion leaned in a little closer and offered. She could sense that Lanqi truly did not want to drink, and it was the first time she had ever seen him be inept at something. While the two hesitated, Warden Daria let out a sigh. "Perhaps next time I should prepare some fruit juice? I feel that would suit you two delicate little princesses much better." Warden Daria raised an eyebrow contemptuously, her tone laced with unvarnished sarcasm. If they didn't even dare drink alcohol, once they stepped out of the safe zone and entered the barrier of the Inverted Path of Rebirth, they would be cowards destined to die swiftly anyway. "I'll handle it," the Poet of Great Love told Hyperion with a shake of his head, stepping forward to take the glass. He stared at the liquor inside, hesitated for an instant, and finally raised the glass, tilted his head back, and drained it in a single gulp. First, his lips and tongue were struck by the fierce assault of alcohol, like liquid fire washing across his mouth. The sensation spread rapidly from the tip of his tongue to his throat with a searing heat, as though an invisible thermal wave enveloped his throat. As the liquor slid down, the burning sensation traced down his esophagus straight into his stomach, where a source of heat slowly unleashed itself. At that moment, the inside of the body began to feel the liquor's potency. Scorching heat radiated from the stomach, gradually spreading throughout every limb and bone. Soon, the Poet of Great Love's body began exhibiting rejection reactions to this abnormally terrifying liquor, including but not limited to nausea, headache, and dizziness. However, the confused state could not affect his true body. He took a deep breath, and without batting an eye, set the empty glass down on the desk with a crisp clatter. Opposite him, Warden Daria froze in sheer disbelief. Downing it like that—aren't you afraid of the pain at all? Could she be a master? "Good... good..." Warden Daria murmured in a daze. "It seems you are an opponent worthy of my full effort." In an instant, her grin grew bolder and more brazen, the curl of her lips failing to hide her excitement. The warden's desk in the grand hall seemed to transform into a bar counter, bathed in the surrounding pale-golden light. Warden Daria's movements were steady yet swift. Sliding a glass across the desk, she poured herself a drink as well, and imitating the Poet of Great Love from just moments ago, drained the cup in one breath. Immediately after, enduring both pain and exhilaration, she fixed a provocative gleam upon the Poet of Great Love, as if to say: Keep up. The Poet of Great Love picked up the bottle, poured a full glass, and effortlessly raised it to drink, emerald eyes locked steadily onto Warden Daria the entire time. There was no competitive fire in those eyes; the poet simply swallowed the alcohol down as if sipping tea. "..." Daria's hand trembled slightly. She had never seen anyone dare drink with her like this. It made it look like she was drinking hard liquor while the other party was casually having tea. Unacceptable! She absolutely could not lose today! She was agitated with fury, yet equally thrilled with excitement! As time passed, the buzz going to Warden Daria's head caused the atmosphere to grow increasingly heated. She gradually began to display mild drunkenness, her words turning bolder and more blunt, even pulling exaggerated faces when gulping down drinks in an attempt to provoke her opponent. "Looks like you can hold out pretty well, but this is only the beginning." After each round, Warden Daria's face flushed redder, yet her eyes remained fierce and her smile dazzling. And so it continued. Until finally, the Poet of Great Love gripped the glass, yet failed to lift it. "Oh? You're already done for?" Warden Daria panted, asking the Poet of Great Love. "Milian, help me," the Poet of Great Love merely said to Hyperion in a hoarse voice. "Coming, coming." However, what Hyperion didn't expect was that when she took hold of the glass in the Poet of Great Love's hand, the Poet showed no intention of stepping aside from the seat. Hyperion's pupils contracted sharply. If she wasn't mistaken, the Poet of Great Love's slightly parted lips and gaze meant that she wanted Hyperion to feed her the liquor—to take the glass and pour it straight down her throat. Because the Poet of Great Love's arms no longer had the strength to lift the glass. "This..." Hyperion's head began to buzz. "Are you clearheaded? Do you really want to do this?" She could hardly bring herself to do it. She honestly couldn't tell right now whether Lanqi was doing this to protect her, or if he held a genuine grudge against Lanfu. Yet Lanqi's characteristically gentle gaze seemed to tell her with unwavering conviction: Just trust me. If I promised to handle this for you, I won't let you suffer. Tears welled up in Hyperion's eyes from being so moved. Wiping them with her sleeve, she gritted her teeth and picked up the glass. If Lanqi said it was fine, then it was definitely fine. And so, before Warden Daria's astonished gaze, she saw Hyperion looking as though she were abusing the black-haired, green-eyed girl, cradling the back of the girl's head with one hand while pouring the liquor straight into her mouth. Behind the Poet of Great Love, Antanas whispered softly to Sinora, "I'm a little worried that the King will look calm and composed on the outside, but when we tap her on the shoulder, we'll discover she's already passed away." "Don't say such things. How could our King possibly lose to mere alcohol?" Sinora chided Antanas with a hint of displeasure. "Could you handle this liquor if it were you?" Antanas leaned in a bit closer to Sinora and asked. "...I probably would have collapsed a minute ago." Sinora had to admit that the King's drinking was utterly insane. It was as if she didn't treat her own life like a life at all—as long as it didn't kill her, she would drink herself to death. At this display, even Warden Daria across the desk was dumbfounded. I'm no drunkard at all. You, my friend—you are the true Saint of Alcohol!