I Am Your Natural Enemy

The Water Monarch actually felt a little embarrassed this time.

In his eyes, Wen Yan didn’t even have any land—he figured Wen Yan was so poor he could barely survive.

No land, but still able to buy such fancy liquor—that had to be tough.

He’d heard Thirteen say before: those without land were all drifters, tenant farmers, poor peasants.

Either working as hired help for others—in any case, just folks scraping by at the bottom.

Thinking back, it seemed Wen Yan really was risking his neck doing some kind of dangerous jobs.

In his memory, there was plenty of land on Fuyu Mountain.

Back in the day, rounding up tenants to farm the land so people could get a bite to eat—that counted as doing good deeds.

Never thought that after over a thousand years, even Wen Yan, this Scorching Sun of the present day, had ended up so pitiful—not even a patch of land of his own.

The Imperial Court now must be way tougher than back then, to be able to crush Fuyu Mountain like this.

Just now, he almost said, ”Pour some more—who’s that little bit enough for, anyway?”

But recalling what Thirteen had said about people with no land and what life must be like for them, he really couldn’t bring himself to ask.

To squeeze the poor, he actually just couldn’t sink that low.

Come to think of it, Wen Yan’s so broke he doesn’t even have land, yet he hasn’t relied on his abilities to do shady things, nor made a killing for himself—that’s honestly impressive.

He’d heard of plenty of cases where someone with a bit of ability immediately went off-track.

He also remembered: back before he’d been suppressed, anyone with real power was snatching up territory—whoever was strongest, owned the most.

Like Thirteen said, having power but staying restrained—that’s a rare trait.

The Water Monarch didn’t entirely agree, but he also reckoned: someone who can control themselves, that’s a true strong one.

”That Water Ghost I sent out before, have him come over for a bit—I’ve got something here for you.”

”Hm?” Wen Yan was momentarily stunned. Giving me something?

Well, only an idiot would turn down free stuff.

Now that the Water Monarch was appeased and didn’t seem suspicious of the wine being poisoned, he wasn’t insisting on getting any more, either.

Wen Yan let out a quiet sigh of relief. If it were just ordinary wine, a couple tons at a time would be no big deal.

But wanting more of this special batch? Now that was really pushing it.

”Hurry up and go, then.”

With that, the Water Monarch simply waved his hand, and Wen Yan went ”bang!”—blown right out.

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling—honestly at a loss for words this time.

He could’ve gotten home on his own—really no need to blast him back to the city so fast!

Whatever, since the Water Monarch was going to give him something, he’d just let it slide.

He had no idea what got into the Water Monarch—dude suddenly had this change of heart and even wanted to do him a favor in return.

Woke up in the morning, shot Feng Yao a message, told him to get in touch and send that Water Ghost from last time back.

Just say the Water Monarch asked for it—don’t ask me anything else; I don’t know the details.

After breakfast, Wen Yan held his phone and looked up the distillery files, but didn’t find anything useful.

He drove over to the distillery himself, brought some food, and climbed over the wall to get in.

Inside, Wen Yan went over to the vats, knocked on the edge, and the old man floated out from within.

”Hey old man, not resting yet? Eat something before you go on.”

Seeing Wen Yan pull out incense, the old man’s eyes immediately widened.

”Are you stupid, lighting something in a distillery?”

”Ha, right, my bad. So how about coming outside for a walk, old man? Let’s sit and chat outside?”

Wen Yan grabbed the breakfast and walked outside; the old man hesitated, glanced at the sky, then finally drifted out of the vat.

His feet never touched the ground, always hanging three inches above, as if air-walking with every step.

Once outside, Wen Yan shut the door, set the breakfast on the ground, used his Yang Energy to light an incense stick, and planted it in the food.

”Old man, I’m guessing you’ve never had incense offerings before, right? Hurry up and eat it while it’s hot.”

The old man held his enamel mug, lips smacking—Wen Yan had guessed right.

People did pay their respects, but after he died, he honestly hadn’t tasted anything besides liquor.

The distillery had strict rules—absolutely no open flames inside, and everyone wore pure cotton clothes that didn’t build up static. With the humidity in there, static electricity was practically impossible anyway.

The old man inhaled deeply, and the three incense sticks burned down in a flash, taking the breakfast with them—vanished to ash.

After a long draw, he swigged from his liquor mug—fed and watered, the old man drifted alongside Wen Yan, almost like floating in water.

”Old man, let me ask you something—do you know if there was something wrong with the wine I bought yesterday?”

”Hm?” The old man looked a bit surprised, then quickly shook his head. ”Impossible—those vats, nothing should be wrong with them, the methanol’s already been removed.”

”It’s not methanol—it’s fusel oils, just a little over the limit. Drink too much and you might get poisoned.”

The old man fell silent for a moment, then spoke.

”No one got hurt, right?”

”Nobody was hurt.”

”Then it was my fault for not getting the process right. Bring the wine back, I’ll go with you.”

Wen Yan didn’t respond but lit up two cigarettes, handed one to the old man—stuck it in front of him.

”If I were here to catch someone, it wouldn’t be me who came.”

The old man stayed silent.

”I know you’re a brewer, old man—you wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake.

I just want to say, if it was an accident, then fine.

If it wasn’t, and you’re trying to cover for someone, then you’re actually hurting them.

I’ve read the case files—I bet a few things got left out before they handed them over to the Scorching Sun Department.

I just need to know two things, old man—be straight with me.

Was your death an accident, or not?

The second question: the problem with the wine—was it an accident?”