After days of turbulent waves, Fang Senyan quietly arrived in Hong Kong.() While the others might have been suffering from the fatigue or sickness of seasickness after their voyage, he, who had lived on ships his entire life, was bursting with energy. He knew the ropes well, quickly exchanged some Hong Kong dollars on the black market, and first visited The Landmark, the hub for top luxury goods in Hong Kong, followed by the high-end shopping street of Pacific Place. There, based on an address he had previously researched, he managed to procure a bottle of Spanish Cava sparkling wine.

As for the last remaining type of liquor, the Salkanyek Brandy, it was quite peculiar because this brandy was exceptionally rare and simply could not be bought off the shelf with money. Why was this the case? It was because this liquor was a blend of Salka Brandy and Nesk Honey Wine, and its shelf life was only two hours; after that time, the flavor would spoil, and it could no longer be called Salkanyek Brandy.

Therefore, if Fang Senyan wanted to drink this liquor, he had to go to a place capable of mixing the Salkanyek Brandy on the spot. In truth, the difficulty in preparing Salkanyek Brandy was neither simple nor overly complex; the key lay in the fact that the consumer base for this drink was small, meaning the bartender needed a wealth of background and experience to mix a truly high-quality glass of Salkanyek Brandy.

Fang Senyan had no specific idea which bar in Hong Kong might serve this final required drink. However, Hong Kong was steeped in history, whether it was the atmospheric Lan Kwai Fong, the hedonistic Lockhart Road in Wan Chai, or the dazzling Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon, all were dotted with countless bars. Fang Senyan wasn't in a hurry; if he lacked money, he had plenty now, and if he lacked time, he also had that. Thus, he simply went from bar to bar, directly questioning the bartenders.

Indeed, effort pays off. After searching for a full day, Fang Senyan finally managed to pry information from a veteran bartender in exchange for a hundred US dollars. He didn't know the person who could mix the Salkanyek Brandy, but in a nearby bar called "The Scottish Bagpipe," the owner, Peter, would occasionally mix drinks himself. This owner’s bartending skills were extremely practiced, and he specialized in several extremely rare mixing techniques. However, the owner had an eccentric personality; not only did he only mix drinks once a month, but he would mix a maximum of three glasses for auction each time—absolutely no more—and more importantly, this owner seemed well-connected, capable of operating in both legitimate and illicit circles. If he didn't wish to serve, no one could force him.

Fang Senyan heard this without changing expression, merely smiling:

“My only worry now is that he might not know how to mix it.”

Around 10 PM, Fang Senyan arrived at the bar named "The Scottish Bagpipe." The place was tucked away in an alley, with dense ivy crawling up the walls; there were no neon lights, no slow grooves, and no deafening rock music. The exterior décor resembled the prow of a sailing ship, and upon pushing the door open, the mellow sound of a saxophone drifted in.

Fang Senyan walked in and looked around, noticing the walls were decorated with rough, natural wood. Hung upon them, fastened by thick, large-headed nails, were square frames about a foot wide. The photos mostly featured a single person against a landscape, suggesting the owner was showcasing his experiences traveling the world. Worth noting was a bearskin rug displayed on the front wall—a genuine bearskin. It looked like a trophy from one of the owner’s past adventures.

Fang Senyan casually found a seat, snapped his fingers, and ordered a simple beer. When the bill came, it was indeed steep—more than three times the price of similar establishments. For the same amount, he could have bought a whole pitcher of beer at a nightclub two streets over and enjoyed a sizzling, sexy show. Fang Senyan sat quietly, absorbing the serene and elegant atmosphere, allowing his mind to gradually calm.

There were many patrons like him, so Fang Senyan blended into the crowd without drawing any attention. Around eleven o’clock, a round of cheers and applause erupted from the bar counter. Fang Senyan looked up to see a middle-aged European man standing by the counter. This man had long, golden, curly hair and deep-set eyes, revealing an ancient scar that ran from his neck down into his chest. Perhaps due to the alcohol, the scar was reddish and slightly swollen, resembling a mysterious centipede.

The man casually picked up his mixing tools. His movements possessed a fluid elegance; with a flick of his wrist, the shimmering shaker spun rapidly in the air, refracting beams of dreamlike light. He raised three fingers high, presumably indicating he was making only three drinks. Then, following a dazzling flurry of motion, three distinctively shaped glasses were placed on the counter, filled with shimmering, multi-colored liquids that looked like three colorful, illusory dreams.

The bartender stepped forward with a smile, bowing slightly:

“The usual rules, everyone, please place your bids. First drink: Crimson Lips, starting bid 500.”

The patrons below began bidding, and eventually, the drink was sold to someone for 1,000 Hong Kong dollars.

When the name of the second drink was announced, Fang Senyan’s heart skipped a beat, as the name that had troubled him for days—"Salkanyek Brandy"—was clearly spoken by the bartender:

“Second drink, Salkanyek Brandy, price 1,500 Hong Kong dollars.”

Upon hearing the name of this drink, it seemed it should have been highly sought after, and someone immediately interjected:

“2,000 Hong Kong dollars.”

Others followed suit, quickly driving the price up to 3,000 Hong Kong dollars.

For a cocktail priced this high, it was practically the ceiling. The first bidder hesitantly offered a strained 3,500 Hong Kong dollars, likely assuming others would give up if he raised the price one more time. Just then, a violent screech of braking and drifting tires suddenly echoed from outside the bar, followed by the door being flung open. A young woman in fiery, tight leather attire rushed in, cleavage deep, yet possessing a delicate and charmingly beautiful face—likely a mixed-race girl from a wealthy background. She laughed loudly as she entered:

“Wow, I made it just in time! 5,000!”

This price seemed poised to conquer the room, and the girl moved to claim the glass. However, at that moment, a calm voice drifted from a corner of the bar:

“Ten thousand US dollars.”

Undoubtedly, the person who uttered those words instantly became the center of attention. But Fang Senyan was now observing this society from a detached perspective. He rested his hands crossed on the table and took a sip of his beer, saying casually:

“If no one bids higher, please bring the drink over to me, waiter.”

The girl was clearly astonished that someone dared to compete with her for something. Snapping back to reality, she sneered:

“Ten thousand US dollars to compete with me? Fifty thousand!”

“One hundred thousand US dollars,” Fang Senyan replied, still placidly.

The girl hesitated immediately. Despite her wealthy origins, she had been raised well; arguing out of spite over a single drink for over a hundred thousand US dollars would certainly earn her a severe scolding from her father! Whether out of pique or fury, her full chest rose and fell slightly, exhibiting the beautiful tautness of a green fruit ripened too soon. But her dark eyes flicked, and a sudden cunning smile appeared:

“Who knows if you actually have a hundred thousand dollars? The Scottish Bagpipe has never accepted credit cards.”

Fang Senyan bent down, retrieved a silver combination lock suitcase from under the table, and tossed it onto the tabletop nonchalantly, opening it. Stacks of banded green bills slid out.

“Feel free to verify the contents at any time... Give me ten seconds to produce one hundred thousand and one dollar, or more, or please bring the drink over to me. Thank you.”

This young woman had clearly trapped herself; even if she could afford a higher price, she certainly couldn't carry a suitcase full of US dollars around with her! Her face flushed and paled in turn, leaving her frozen in place. The bartender, after glancing at the owner’s expressionless face, gritted his teeth, picked up the drink, and walked toward Fang Senyan.

But just then, the girl sneered and waved her hand! With a sharp slap, she knocked the glass of Salkanyek Brandy out of the bartender’s grasp, sending it flying! Fang Senyan’s pupils constricted instantly; he hadn't anticipated the girl would be so reckless as to do such a thing. In a surge of rage, he slammed his hand on the table and stood up, the glass he held crushed instantly by his grip. The remaining shards mixed with the liquid sprayed everywhere! At that moment, every eye in the bar fixed upon him!

Fang Senyan rose, his face shadowed in darkness, and he walked toward the girl, who stood with her arms crossed, smirking coldly, and said calmly:

“Well done.”

The girl responded with utter disdain:

“This fool, what does he think he can do? What can he possibly do? Try touching me.”

Two other patrons stood up nearby, both young and robust men, clearly intending to play the role of chivalrous protectors. They stepped forward and mocked:

“If I were you, I’d scram out of here immediately.”

Fang Senyan moved with startling speed, grabbing the hair of one of the men next to him, violently bending his knee, and smashing the man’s face into it! Simultaneously, the other man roared and swung a beer bottle down onto Fang Senyan’s head! The bottle shattered instantly, fragments flying, and a stream of blood snaked down like a red serpent. Fang Senyan released his grip as if nothing had happened, letting the clump of messy hair and bloody scalp fall into his palm. The heavily assaulted man slumped softly to the floor, clearly unconscious.