"The second jar of wine is Baodaozi liquor, brewed in the 230th year of Da Li, buried deep in the granary for seventy years. The liquor is pure, burning the heart and scorching the throat." Again came the Wine Sword Immortal’s maniacal musings, though this time, the Flesh Monster was spared from being poured upon. The green porcelain wine bottle still hung high in the sky, its fragrance growing ever pungent, as the Wine Sword Immortal incessantly chanted the name of his beloved Baodaozi liquor. Apart from the bottom layer continually teeming with grotesque entities, everything seemed as calm as it used to be. Tian Changwen’s expression was subtle; the oppressive terror emitted by the Wine Sword Immortal made him visibly uneasy, prompting him to consider notifying all layers of the port for adequate defense. Yet, upon receiving Li Mo’s transmitted thoughts, he absorbed himself in commanding the siege against the monstrous entities. The atmosphere in the port was profoundly peculiar. High-rank cultivators could hear the whispers of Wine Sword Immortal, yet none reacted. Low-rank cultivators, however, were too engrossed collecting resources to concern themselves with the outside threats. To understand their plight—for them, every moment in the port was a race against time. On one hand, the port itself was an unprecedented opportunity. The Creation Sect distributed countless resources while offering lucrative Spirit Stone tasks for defending against the monstrous entities. Childhood cultivators pursued Foundation Establishment, while Weak Crown cultivators sought Core Formation; never before had resources so rare come within their reach. On the other hand, all cultivators envisioned the ripple effects of the Creation Sect’s future departure from the port. Once gone, a flood of Loose Cultivators would inevitably vie for a chance to learn the Immortal Creation Technique, causing inevitable upheaval. With such distractions, who cared about the Wine Sword Immortal? After Three Mountains was reforged, his cultivation remained stagnated at Weak Crown Stage Perfection, unable to progress a step further into the Core Formation Stage. Still, he lamented not, as it was better than his earlier tribulations trapped within Dome Mountain. Three Mountains hurried across the streets, intending to head to the Four Seas Commerce. He had received an entrusted request for crafting a Magic Artifact—something within his capabilities. "Three Mountains, do you not recognize me?" Three Mountains turned his head, scanning the crowd—which showed no sign of a stationary figure. He continued walking. As he stepped into a narrow alley, the voice echoed once more beside his ear, "Three Mountains, do you not recognize me? It is I." The voice grew more familiar, as if heard in a distant memory. Three Mountains furrowed his brows, surveying the surroundings, only to glimpse faint shadowy motion near the corner of a wall. In the corner stood a tall man, his Magic Robe soaked through, with piercing eyes fixated upon him. Stepping forward a few paces, Three Mountains saw the man unresponsive, his stiff posture unchanged. Soon, a peculiar stench of alcohol wafted toward Three Mountains, the odor sharp, reminiscent of the pungency from a drunken revel gone awry. "Heh, it’s rare to find such debauched cultivators in the port nowadays." Three Mountains ceased hesitating, quickening his pace. Yet the man’s eerie figure lingered in his mind, his uncanny expression difficult to forget. "Three Mountains, do you not recognize me? It is I, Ah Gui." The voice rang in his ears for the third time, sowing a fleeting daze in Three Mountains’ eyes. Unable to resist pondering the words "Ah Gui," a faint burn arose inexplicably from his stomach, as if he had swallowed a fiery liquor. "Three Mountains, do you not recognize me? It is I, Ah Gui, your junior brother." Returning to his senses, Three Mountains lightly patted the man’s shoulder and said, "Ah... Ah Gui, so it’s you. How did you make it up to the second layer of the port?" The man said not a word. "Well then, if you don’t mind, you can stay at the Four Seas Commerce’s guest room—the Spirit Gathering Array there is slightly inferior to the inn’s, though." Three Mountains seemed to interpret silence as engagement, chatting to himself casually as they walked. Fading together into the distance. Yet as an increasing number of cultivators noticed the man, they unexpectedly conjured memories of knowing Ah Gui, even fabricating relationships that had never existed. The Wine Sword Immortal’s laughter echoed ceaselessly, and the scent of Baodaozi liquor permeated the port. Unnoticed, across the port’s layers, an abundance of drenched and distorted figures emerged—some men, some women, young and old alike—wandering endlessly through the city districts. "What an impeccable Baodaozi; its power truly impossible to guard against." Li Mo opened his eyes thoughtfully, though his visage bore no trace of panic. He did not halt his cultivation, quietly calling Da Ai Mi Tian to send cancer cells into the sudden flood of ’alcoholics.’ By virtue of the Creation Book’s divine protection, Li Mo alone remained unaffected in the entire port. Even the Conversion by Karma Seal Mother fell short against Artifact Cultivators, yet Baodaozi liquor had breached the defenses on the sly, reducing the Artifact Cultivators into thralls, unnoticed. Although Li Mo manipulated the Mother Furnace, implanting contrary memories into their minds... Once Artifact Cultivators recalled the alcoholics, their memories inexplicably twisted, reimagining alcoholics as their acquaintances. "Cognitive distortion? No, the Wine Sword Immortal merely alters memory." Li Mo suddenly grasped that the Three Pure Heavens still fixated on Outer Heaven Meteorite Crater; otherwise, such tempered methods wouldn’t be employed. Li Mo’s lips curled in disdain. He spotted twenty-three familiar figures among the alcoholics. The twenty-three belonged to the Great Sun Sword Tomb, with Jiang Xi leading the group, Daoist Bai Shuo and Ye Zhuo intermingled among them. Now devoid of sentience, they were fully enslaved puppets of the Wine Sword Immortal. "Damn it, just another headache, isn’t it?" Li Mo sighed bitterly. His cancer cells could neutralize alcoholic anomalies immediately, but the twenty-three—his comrades from Heavenly Sword Sect—were now entangled in this web. Ensuring their survival trumped all concerns about their injuries. Nevertheless, sacred priorities such as confronting the Wine Sword Immortal took precedence. Li Mo touched his chin. "The Three Pure Heavens wouldn’t antagonize Heavenly Sword Sect outright; their presence must have been erased discreetly after aiding Sub-Device Sect." "Unclaimed warriors, indeed. Twenty-three Divine Split cultivators are more than sufficient to replace Creation Sect’s deficits." With realization dawning, Li Mo risked the Wine Sword Immortal detecting him, covertly deploying Spirit Root Worms to envelop the port in an intangible Illusion Realm. He abstained from confrontation, instead maneuvering the twenty-three Sword Cultivators to converge. "Though you lot are a disgrace, honestly. Silently succumbing to the Wine Sword Immortal like that." Li Mo swept his gaze across the Sword Cultivators, spotting two Sword Scrolls tucked in Daoist Bai Shuo’s Storage Bag. They belonged to Mountain Sword Tomb and Water Heavy Sword Tomb. Examining the sword scroll adorned with lightning sparks, Li Mo discerned the handiwork of Sister Yu Xiao—she evidently remained immune to cognitive distortion. "Integrating both sword types into Ten Thousand Sword Immortal Bone brings me to eleven segments of Immortal Bone." Li Mo immersed himself in studying the scrolls while channeling his energies to condense Immortal Bone. His body cracked noisily amidst fierce Earth-Water energies swirling around. The birth of Sword Bone unfolded seamlessly, with Ten Thousand Sword Immortal Bone suppressing other bones effortlessly. At this rate, with forty segments of Sword Bone, the Ten Thousand Transformation Immortal Bone might begin transcending mortality, evolving into its second form as an Immortal Body. As Li Mo practiced Sword Bone amidst Divine Separation, the Wine Sword Immortal grew restless. His tone rose dramatically, buoyed by the belief that Li Mo had fallen prey. Meanwhile, the number of alcoholics surged to nearly ten thousand within the port. "The third jar of wine is Bamboo Leaf Green, brewed in the 576th year of Da Li, buried for one hundred and twenty years beneath bamboo groves. The liquor glows green, its lingering essence smooth and gentle." White porcelain shattered and reformed into a green porcelain bottle. The Wine Sword Immortal’s utterance concluded, and immediately, the sound of earth splitting resonated across the port. Shoots of green bamboo emerged, shimmering like jade, their leaves dripping with liquor. A faint alcoholic mist spread, its aroma intoxicating to the soul. Li Mo’s muscles tensed in an instant. If Bamboo Leaf Green posed irreversible harm, he was poised to strike without hesitation, even if it meant failing to capture the Wine Sword Immortal’s true form. "Heh. Do you fancy yourself turning the port into a wine vat?" Li Mo squinted, sensing how Bamboo Leaf Green’s essence merged intimately with Spiritual Power. Instead of deterioration, Spiritual Power grew more refined; however, the alcohol essence accumulated inside, fermenting ceaselessly, growing richer by the moment. "Is the Wine Sword Immortal truly a deceitful entity? If cultivation techniques do exist, this might actually work well as a foundation for brewing Corpse Wine." The Wine Sword Immortal’s schemes—a sinister endeavor to distill liquor using two million cultivators. A philosophy disturbingly resonant with the concept of Corpse Wine. "The fourth jar is Rice Wine, brewed in the 893rd year of Da Li, buried for three days within Qinghe City, cloudy liquor bearing Innate Essence." The suspended wine bottle morphed into a wine vat, from whose brim a gargantuan face emerged, its eyes brimming with unconcealed greed. The monstrous tide triggered by Flesh Monsters abruptly ceased. Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝔫𝔢𝔱 Two million cultivators simultaneously collapsed to the ground. Their blood, flesh, and bones began melting away, resembling the residue of medicinal substances after brewing. Their dissolution fueled the intensifying alcoholic fumes throughout the port. Fortunately, the fermentation process proved slow, disrupted recurrently by the meddling of cancer cells, delaying Rice Wine’s completion indefinitely. Li Mo concealed his rising fury, thick smoke billowing forth from the Cave God Dharma Eye. "A thirty percent chance of a kill. Guaranteed critical injury... Tenfold." The Wine Sword Immortal clearly feared confronting Li Mo outright, stubbornly retreating inside the wine vat. "Aren’t the scums of Three Pure Heavens the epitome of procrastination? Be done with your deliberations already." Li Mo deployed Divine Skills, crafting the Jiedan Stage-tier Corpse Wine Recipe dubbed **Aroma-Enhancing Wine**—its purpose to amplify the fragrance of other alcohols. Its vapor blended seamlessly into Rice Wine’s fumes without altering aroma, inflating concentration a hundredfold, compelling the Wine Sword Immortal to laugh bizarrely. "Shall we, my friend?" "I won’t waste too much of my time messing with you." Li Mo recognized the enormous gamble he had undertaken enticing the Wine Sword Immortal—failure meant only crippling him for decades before reconsidering the final strike at a later chance. The True Dragon Flying Sword’s tail coiled, its scales glimmering with countless Sword Intents. Were it not for the absence of Symbiotic Dharma Body at Void Refining Stage, the True Dragon Flying Sword might directly end the match. While Li Mo set his sights upon the gargantuan face protruding from the vat, the Wine Sword Immortal abruptly accelerated his descent into the depths of the port. "Wine... wine... wine..." The Wine Sword Immortal reached the port. The giant head emerging hollow like a liquor jug eagerly inhaled the aromas. A voice rang out behind him: "Li Congding, care for a drink together?" Li Mo’s visage twisted in fury, his palms converging. The **Purgatory Pure Land** unfurled.