Wine God

The clear white liquor was poured into the wine mixing pot, the Beggar Kid's hand slightly trembling and unsteady. Fortunately, none of the liquor spilled out from the pot. Elder Yang, Boss Zhao, and the bartenders all recognized that the bottle of liquor that the Beggar Kid chose was called Viboro, a powerful pure liquor. Pure liquor lacks aroma and possesses a distinctive sweetness, making it a common base in cocktail making.

Looking through the transparent crystal pot, one could see that the Viboro the Beggar Kid poured in occupied about one third of the pot. He then added in six tenths of tomato juice, one tenth of freshly squeezed lemon juice, and finally, according to a certain ratio, he added the desired Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco chili oil, salt, and pepper.

After adding these seasonings, the Beggar Kid picked up the strainer, a faint look of helplessness crossing his face. Still, he placed it in the pot, silently sighing within his heart. It had been a long time since he last used this tool, but now he had no choice.

Securing the lid, the Beggar Kid took the pot in his hands. His small hands could hardly compete with an adult's, holding the pot was an exhausting task. A fact that only made more people scoff at him.

As we all know, when mixing cocktails, the most important thing is the cocktail formula, followed by the technique. The ingredients that the Beggar Kid had just put in the pot were truly perplexing, and as for his technique, his unsteady and pitifully small hands hardly seemed capable of any skill. Despite the doubts circulating, the Beggar Kid's hands began to move.

He simply weighed the pot in his hand, retreated half a step backwards, and in this instant, his eyes ignited like two bright stars. His left hand was placed behind him, his right hand hoisted up the crystal pot, and suddenly his fingers flung open, his palm tightly pressing against the pot. The crystal pot suddenly began to spin in his palm like a gyro.

The Beggar Kid's right hand gently rose, yet the pot continued to spin rapidly on his palm, as if his palm had some sort of suction force. The liquor inside had already been completely dyed red due to the large amount of tomato juice, and the pot, spinning at high speed, looked like a red disk spinning in his palm.

Murmurs of surprise echoed about. Evidently, this Beggar Kid was far from as simple as many people believed.

Heretofore, the kid's hand supporting the spinning pot now gradually rose, resulting in the constantly spinning pot standing upright in his palm, without any signs of falling. He slowly lifted his right arm from his side, palm facing forward. Moving the high-speed spinning pot from right to left, from down to up and back down again like the sun's path from dawn to noon and then to dusk. Throughout the entire process, the pot remained upright, spinning in his palm. Not a single bartender present could do this; they hadn't even seen it before. The young bartender, who had previously scoffed at the kid, stared, his eyes wide-open as he watched the sun-like red disk. However, he couldn't figure out how the Beggar Kid had done it.

The only person who could discern how the Beggar Kid was able to do it was Elder Yang. By virtue of his sharp eyes, he discovered that the kid's palm, in fact, was not only being moved by his arm, it was also moving on its own. Although the range of movement was small, his palm constantly adjusted, making retracting and lifting actions. His five fingers trembling rhythmically like waves, light touches with the spinning crystal pot always accurately timed. This was the secret to how he was able to keep the pot spinning while also tightly fixed to his palm.

However, it was easier said than done. Even the slightest disruption in rhythm would knock the pot from his hand. The Beggar Kid's movements were slightly raw but for a child of about eleven or twelve years old to be able to do these things, it was already quite remarkable.

Just as everyone believed that the Beggar Kid's cocktail making would end in this flashy manner, suddenly, the left hand that had been retracted behind him also stretched out. The bottle in his right hand soared into the air, spinning at high speed. Just like the sun falling from the sky, it immediately elicited gasps from the spectators.

Yet, the Beggar Kid's face didn't change. Both his hands seemed to suddenly disappear, only faint shadows remained. Even Elder Yang couldn't see clearly what happened. Everyone felt a blur before their eyes, and the setting sun was rising again. And for a moment, they were shocked to see three suns. Yes, three.

Just when everyone thought their eyes were playing tricks on them, the pot was already back on the table with a light "bang".

The Beggar Kid didn't rush to open the pot, his eyes sweeping across the faces of the crowd. Seeing their stunned expressions at his Three Suns Reflecting the Moon technique, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, the pride in his eyes seemingly more intense. Only the sweat that trickled down his forehead indicated the difficulty of his performance.

He didn't wipe away his sweat, for he couldn't dirty his hands. Taking the top off the pot naturally and gracefully, he poured the somewhat viscous blood red liquor into a martini glass. Not a drop more, not a drop less, this left one edge of the glass empty.

With his right thumb vertically attached to the inside of the glass, and the index finger wrapped around the outside of it, he presented the cocktail to Elder Yang, in a flawless standard posture.

Appearance-wise, this cocktail was not as magnificent and translucent as the Burning Passion mixed by the previous bartender, nor was it decorated with a flame. But the blood red liquor could give people a sense of restrained charm.

Elder Yang instinctively took the drink, hearing the Beggar Kid's voice, "A true flame should ignite from within, not merely skim the surface. For it is your mood it aims to set alight, not your eyes. This is the real Burning Passion."

Elder Yang brought the glass to his eyes, sniffed lightly, and was surprised to smell a faint bloody scent. That was the smell, like blood, which was transformed from the tomato juice mixed with lemon juice and alcohol. The Beggar Kid didn't say that this version of the Burning Passion he made had another name: Bloody Mary.

Elder Yang's gaze began to heat up, he took a light sip of the drink. The customers and bartenders all focused on his face, waiting for his judgement. Needless to say, the final criteria for judging a cocktail is taste, not technique. However fancy the technique, without a good taste, it would be pointless.