Chapter 588 - Reaching the Pinnacle Half a Day after Debut
Chapter 588 of "Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God" opens introducing the plot: And so he kept amassing, kept infusing.This meant that Mr. Gaven didnât just mix up... Continue exploring!
And so he kept amassing, kept infusing.This meant that Mr. Gaven didnât just mix up a batch of Flame Fury and call it a day like Master Krewen, but rather he was able to continuously add ingredients, continuously mix drinks, just like an assembly line.
It all started with just one cup.
Then it became five cups.
Ten cups!
Twenty cups!
Finally, he reached the limit of thirty cups.
In the end, what limited Mr. Gavenâs performance wasnât his control of emotions, but the size of the cocktail shaker.
The whole thing was a drink-mixing assembly line, and even so, the supply still couldnât meet the demand.
The news that Master Krewen himself was mixing drinks spread like wildfire throughout Anfield Village.
There was no need for wings.
Anfield Village was small enough that if you stood at the entrance of the Deer Horn Pot Tavern and hollered, half the village could hear you.
By the time they gathered, they realized it wasnât Master Krewen himself mixing the drinks but a strange young man, which initially caused some disappointment.
But then they heard this young man was Master Krewenâs newly accepted disciple.
The owner of the unique Ghost Vineyard.
A rare bartending prodigy who, after just one viewing, learned Master Krewenâs unique techniques and created a unique Magic Wine.
These Magic Wines included the unique Ghost Grape Wine.
And most importantly, they were free to taste.
Many were sharp-eyed old drinkers who, just by the ingredients used, guessed that in the City of Brilliance, each would cost at least ten Gold Coins.
Who doesnât love free stuff?
Not to mention something worth at least ten Gold Coins; many people would never have the chance to taste such an expensive cocktail in their lifetime, as its cost was equivalent to half a monthâs salary for an adult laborer.
"Line up, everyone line up, no skipping, one by one."
"Those who want to go Berserk after drinking, head to Malande crossroad, those who arenât satisfied, get back in line. Father Krewen said, as long as Mr. Gaven keeps mixing drinks, our free giveaway wonât stop."
"You little rascal, what are you stirring up? You arenât even as tall as my thigh, yet you want to drink. Scram! Go play on the side. This adult beverage isnât for you; go home to your mom and drink milk."
Donât be fooled by the six waitresses of the Deer Horn Pot Tavern, who previously stood in front of Mr. Gaven, each one with a charming smile, acting demure and gentle.
When things really got busy, especially in the face of chaos, they turned into little wildcats, hand on hip, loudly directing at the tavernâs entrance, their voices sharp and rapid, just like their hand movements.
The doors of the Deer Horn Pot Tavern by Longroad were wide open, turning the bar into a semi-open space, and Mr. Gavenâs juggling-like, flowing bartending process was displayed in front of everyone.
This design was, of course, meant to draw in customers; local residents accounted for only a third of the clientele. The remaining two-thirds mainly came from merchants and travelers passing through Longroad. Some who were in a hurry didnât have time to linger in the tavern, but they could squeeze a few minutes to quickly grab a drink, and also to refill their flasks for their journey.
Master Krewen didnât care about the tavernâs profits, but the servers working there certainly did, and so they naturally thought of ways to increase their revenue.
In the countryside, everyone had their tricks, even the small children whose buttocks were still exposed; they werenât afraid of the waitresses and argued with reason: "You just said if we lined up, weâd get some. Now youâre discriminating against us kids because weâre little. Thatâs not fair. We lined up, so you must give us some too."
"Did your parents let you drink?"
"Heh, it was my dad who told me to line up, Iâm not drinking, I can get it for him to drink."
"Hereâs an apple and a cup of drink; choose one, your pick."
"Do I even need to say it? Of course, Iâll choose the apple. I canât drink the alcohol, but I can eat the apple myself."
The kids certainly had their own calculations; compared to their fatherâs words of praise, a big, round apple was far more tempting.
The crowd chuckled good-naturedly, not giving the kids a hard time.
As sunset approached, more and more people who were out and about returned, and Malande crossroad became bustling, transforming the place not just into a queue for tasting wine but into a site for a bonfire party.
The excited men began what they were best atâwrestling and fighting contests.
The Flame Fury fully ignited their emotions, making them especially eager for a bout of strength and bravery. á´ĘÉŞs á´Ęá´á´á´á´Ę ÉŞs á´á´á´ á´á´á´ ĘĘ No(á´ )á´lFire.ná´t
Making herself the center of attention, a woman with dark skin, standing over two meters and forty centimeters tallâeven among the Golia she would be considered tallâwith long arms and legs, and agility that didnât quite match her build.
This woman, named Delara, quickly became the reigning champion of the ring; many people were tossed out with just one hand. Especially after downing a cup of Flame Fury, she became overjoyed and called for a two-on-one challenge.
The men who cared about face couldnât stand being provoked, each eagerly stepping into the ring.
They went in quickly, but flew out even faster.
Thankfully, she was just in high spirits, not Berserk, and did not lose her senses. When throwing people out, she used just the right amount of force.
Everyone appeared to be thrown out quite pitifully, but in fact, they landed on the tough parts of their bodies, not getting hurt in sensitive spots.
The ruckus in Anfield Village continued on into the night until Mr. Gavenâs twenty-kilogram barrel of Ghost Grape Wine, used as a mixing ingredient, was depleted.