?Reading on mobile phone Qin Feng always stayed near the grand hall, clearly hearing the sounds of drinking and clinking cups inside. E-book (txt02.com) Drink! Drink as much as you can—drink until you're dead! Other cultivators naturally headed toward the campgrounds they had prepared during their journey back from the Great Assembly of Ten Thousand Immortals, many of them muttering complaints while setting up tents. Now it truly felt like they were being treated as mere beasts of burden. If only they had known this would be the outcome, they'd have absolutely refused to come and serve the peak-level Immortals. Yet, upon reflection, if they hadn't come, they might very well have been wiped out entirely—being treated as beasts of burden was certainly better than dying. One person noticed Qin Feng lingering around the hall, spoke with disdain, saying, "What's the background of that well-dressed, always-flattering bearded man? Has anyone heard of him? He still won't give up—doesn't he dream of being invited in to join the drinking session?" "Actually, he's mistaken his calculations entirely." "Another person said, 'The Immortal Sect has no good people at all—how could they possibly invite him in? Watch and see, he's making things for himself!' 'Exactly—what a lackluster fellow!' Qin Sha ignored these objections. Since the banquet began, quite some time had passed; he was confident the medicine would take effect soon. "Yes, there's a kind of wine known as the Wine of Ecstatic Immortals—its flavor is profoundly rich and aromatic. The only problem is that the master who perfected its brewing has passed away. Yet we are certain we can help you recover it. You needn't worry!" The Immortal of Eternal Life nodded firmly: "Then it's settled. You must succeed in retrieving it—I shall personally reward you handsomely. Should you fail, however, you'll simply have to face the consequences!" Pfft—One of them collapsed to the ground. His companion looked down in disdain and said, "Look at you—scared out of your wits! We're offering a substantial reward for recovering the Wine of Ecstatic Immortals, not a penalty. What's there to fear?" The True Master at the Peak chuckled: "Hah! Truly a timid soul. Even among the XIAOYAO Sect, we rarely find someone so fearful." "Indeed. This fellow usually has a bold demeanor, but today he's clearly shaken—quite unusual. Pfft—" Before he could finish speaking, he too collapsed to the ground. "It must be that he's had too much to drink," the True Master At that moment, someone suddenly cried out, "Brother, what's wrong with you? Wake up!" The immortal, slightly annoyed, replied, "What nonsense! It's a grand day—aren't you just a little tipsy? Just carry him down and rest quietly, don't make a fuss!" A disciple mourned, "Master, my brother has passed away. He... he seems to have died..." "Nonsense!" the immortal stood up, visibly irritated, and said, "How can he have died after just a few cups of wine? He's only been drinking!" Immediately, another voice cried, "Master, my younger brother isn't right either—he seems to have passed too!" "What?" The immortal's eyes widened. How could two people simultaneously exhibit the same symptoms? That simply didn't make sense. Before he could respond, people began checking the ones who had collapsed, and the conclusion they reached was... they truly seemed to have died. Puff... puff... One after another, more people fell. Now, out of the original group of several dozen, fewer than half could still stand. "What's going on?" He leapt down from his throne, reaching out to feel the pulse at a disciple's neck—there was none. He quickly pressed his palm to the disciple's dantian, and found no trace of vital energy swirling within. Poisoning. That was the first thought that flashed into his mind. While cultivators were not afraid of ordinary poisons, they were not invulnerable to all toxins; certain special poisons could still prove fatal. Puff—more people fell to the ground, and his own heartbeat quickened. It was clearly deliberate poisoning. He grasped a disciple who had not yet shown symptoms, and with a single palm strike delivered to the disciple's crown, the disciple's pale face instantly turned blue. "Everyone! Quickly! Vomit immediately!" he shouted, his voice now frantic. Though frightened, the group remained obedient and followed instructions. Unfortunately, the poison they had contracted was not only potent but also acted slowly, and now, when they finally remembered to empty their stomachs, it was too late—the toxins had already circulated throughout their bodies via the bloodstream. He was equally afraid—since he could have poisoned the gatekeepers, surely he too would meet a similar fate. Yet he still held hope, for he had always drunk the wine offered by the younger disciples, only sipping ordinary wine once, and had promptly cleared his stomach. Surely, there should be no problem. The sounds of bodies collapsing rose and fell continuously, the poison being exceptionally potent; once symptoms appeared, recovery was impossible. Though several high-level cultivators perished, not with complete dissolution of form and spirit, they too were beyond salvation—true immortals could not save them. The peak cultivator stood with a face filled with rage. The celebration banquet had turned out this way—something he had never anticipated. "Who is it? Step forward!" he roared to the sky, "Don't hide behind your masks! To poison others is no true hero—come face me and fight me directly!" On the campgrounds, representatives from all the sects stood stunned, unsure of what had just happened. Boom… The roof of the hall was blown open, and the senior cultivator soared into the sky, pointing at the group of people who were now at a loss: "It must be one of you. Give him a chance to admit it himself—stand up right now and face your death!" Seeing him with blazing eyes and clenched teeth, as if deeply irritated, the others were puzzled as to what exactly had happened.