Chapter 186 The Mud Seal is Opened! Is This the Nuclear Weapon Lost for 8 Years?

As Song Wan exerted a little force with her wrist, the thick layer of red clay, dried by the wind over the years, emitted a dry, crisp sound.

The seal shattered.

A few small pieces of yellow clay rolled down the rough edge of the earthenware jar and landed silently on the rosewood table.

In this supreme banquet hall, where you could hear a pin drop, the sound was actually negligible.

But what happened next was like a depth charge being detonated in a calm deep sea.

There was no blinding light, nor deafening roar.

There was only one smell.

A scent that seemed to have a tangible weight.

It was no longer that faint, barely perceptible wisp that had struggled to squeeze out from the cracks in the mud seal.

Instead, it was like a flood bursting its banks, surging outwards from the main table with a roar!

The first to be affected were the group of collateral relatives standing at the very front of the table.

My aunt, who had just been yelling at the top of her lungs to call security, was the first to be hit.

Just a second ago, she was tightly covering her mouth and nose with that expensive silk handkerchief.

His face was filled with disgust, as if the jar contained some deadly poison.

But the moment that smell truly hits you.

My aunt's body suddenly stiffened.

Those eyes, thickly coated with mascara and filled with meanness and sarcasm, suddenly widened in size.

Her hand, which had been covering her nose, seemed to have suddenly lost all its strength and fell limply to her side.

The priceless silk handkerchief slipped lightly from her fingertips and landed on the expensive Persian carpet.

She didn't even glance at it.

Because all her senses were now completely captivated by the scent.

This is not the pungent smell produced by mixing alcohol and flavorings on a modern industrial assembly line.

It is an extremely complex yet perfectly natural fragrance.

At first glance, it's like the first white plum blossom blooming in the misty rain of Jiangnan in early spring, carrying a chilly and aloof air.

The scent, once again, makes one feel as if they are in a garden in the height of summer.

The peony's elegance, the jasmine's tranquility, the osmanthus's fragrance—countless top-tier flowers, at the moment of their most splendid bloom, have their souls forcibly stripped away.

Finally, these flower spirits were locked in place by an extremely rich and mellow grain wine that seemed to melt into one's very bones.

My aunt's face, which had been twisted with jealousy just moments before, now strangely relaxed.

Her nostrils flared rapidly, and the corners of her mouth, which were originally sharp and sarcastic, involuntarily turned upwards.

She even closed her eyes, as if she were completely immersed in a beautiful dream she didn't want to wake up from.

His chest heaved violently as he greedily inhaled the aroma of the wine, which was mixed with the fragrance of a hundred flowers.

It wasn't just her.

The uncle next to me, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who had just been yelling about being afraid of getting the carpet dirty.

His mouth was wide open, and his Adam's apple was bobbing up and down wildly.

He was swallowing.

The clearly audible "thump" sound would be considered extremely inappropriate at such an elegant gathering of celebrities.

But he simply couldn't control himself.

He felt as if an invisible hand was reaching out from his stomach, clamoring and craving for something.

The buzzing laughter that had been echoing throughout the banquet hall had vanished without a trace.

Instead, there was a strange, synchronized sound of deep breathing.

This scene is utterly absurd.

A group of Beijing celebrities dressed in haute couture gowns worth hundreds of thousands of yuan and adorned with jewelry worth tens of millions of yuan.

At this moment, they were all like a pack of wolves that hadn't eaten for three days and three nights, staring intently at the broken mud jar that was spewing dirt, frantically inhaling through their noses.

On the other side of the hall, ten meters away from the main table, were the VIP seats.

The situation is completely out of control.

Chen Ping, the national liquor connoisseur who was invited by Song Wan at a high price and who usually only drinks 50-year-old Moutai original liquor.

He had completely descended into a state of frenzy.

The moment the mud seal completely shattered and the aroma of the wine was fully released.

Chen Ping's face turned deathly pale instantly, followed by an unusual flush.

On the table in front of him was a bottle of Romanée-Conti that the hotel manager had just carefully opened.

That was a top-quality red wine worth hundreds of thousands of dollars a bottle, which was quietly decanting at the moment.

Chen Ping suddenly stood up.

Because the movement was too large and too violent, his knee slammed heavily against the solid wood table leg.

The intense pain made him gasp, but he didn't even flinch.

He didn't even bother to take his sandalwood cane, which he always carried with him.

This is a titan who is usually aloof and respected even by the richest man.

At this moment, he was like a martial arts fanatic who had seen an unparalleled divine weapon.

Stumbling and staggering, like a madman, he pushed aside the chair blocking his way and lunged toward the main table.

"Get out of the way! All of you, get out of the way!"

Chen Ping's voice was extremely hoarse, with a cracking quality caused by extreme longing.

Several business tycoons in suits were knocked off balance by his collision and were about to retaliate.

Upon turning around and recognizing the national treasure-level master, everyone froze in place and instinctively made way for him.

Chen Ping stumbled and crawled all the way, completely losing his composure.

His once meticulously combed gray hair was now disheveled and hanging loosely over his forehead.

He walked a short distance, but it felt like a pilgrimage.

Finally, he rushed to the sandalwood table piled high with rare treasures.

He completely ignored the dazzling pure gold peach next to him, and didn't even glance at the limited edition watches.

His hands gripped the edge of the table tightly, his upper body almost completely leaning out.

Those old, bloodshot eyes were fixed intently on the mud jar in Song Wan's hand.

With the mud seal no longer obstructing the mouth of the jar, the liquid inside was finally revealed.

Song Wan tilted the jar slightly.

Illuminated by the huge crystal chandelier overhead.

The liquid inside does not have the crystal-clear transparency of modern industrial distilled spirits.

Instead, it appears slightly cloudy.

It was an extremely rich amber color, as viscous as molten gold.

And within that golden liquid, there seemed to be countless tiny petal fragments, too small to be seen with the naked eye, suspended.

They floated slowly in the wine, refracting a mesmerizing halo.

Lin Mo stood to the side.

He simply had one hand in his suit trouser pocket, his posture as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in his own backyard.

Jiang Ruoyun clung tightly to him.

The girl was initially furious because of her relatives' mockery.

Seeing this scene, as intelligent as she was, she immediately understood what had happened.

She slightly raised her delicate chin, like a proud white swan.

She hugged Lin Mo's arm even tighter with both hands, and even snuggled closer to Lin Mo with a hint of showing off.

Those beautiful peach blossom eyes sparkled, full of adoration and dependence.

This is the man she has her eye on.

Normally, he's too lazy to even say a word, but once he makes a move, it's a one-dimensional attack that completely crushes everyone present.

"This color..."

Master Chen Ping's voice trembled like a leaf falling in the wind.

He swallowed hard, his eyes already brimming with murky tears.

"This fragrance is wonderful!"

He suddenly raised his voice, his hoarse voice echoing in the huge banquet hall.

"The fragrance of flowers permeates the essence of the wine, but the wine's aroma cannot mask the soul of the flowers!"

He slammed his fist on the rosewood tabletop, making a dull thud, as if he felt no pain in his hand.

"My God! In my lifetime, I can actually smell this scent!"

Chen Ping wept uncontrollably, crying like a child who had lost his beloved toy.

He cried as he pointed at the dusty mud jar, his fingers trembling as if electrified.

"What is this? Could it be recorded in the Southern Song Dynasty book 'Menglianglu'?"

"This is the 'Ancient Hundred Flowers Wine,' a recipe lost for a full eight hundred years!!!"

This roar, like a final thunderclap from a clear sky, exploded directly on the top of everyone's head.

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Absolute uproar.

Those distant relatives who had just been looking down on them and waiting to see them make a fool of themselves were now completely dumbfounded, as if struck by lightning.

The aunt's ecstasy instantly turned into horror.

She looked at the tattered, broken jar, then at the national treasure-level master who was crying his eyes out.

I felt my worldview completely collapse at that moment.

Lost for eight hundred years?

Ancient method of brewing with a hundred flowers?

Which of these words doesn't represent a historical heritage and priceless treasure that cannot be measured in money?

And just now, they actually shouted that they wanted to throw this divine object into the kitchen?

Is it really going to be used as cooking wine?!

A strong sense of shame and lingering fear instantly overwhelmed these relatives, making them wish they could disappear into the ground on the spot.

Jiang Jianguo, sitting in the main seat, was also in a state of extreme shock.

But he was, after all, the richest man in Beijing who had been through countless battles.

Although my heart was already churning with excitement, I was so excited that I wanted to immediately grab the jar and drink it all up.

But on the surface, he still maintained that unfathomable majesty.

He simply took two deep breaths quietly and greedily.

The aroma of the Hundred Flowers Wine slid down his throat and into his lungs, making him feel instantly lighter from years of hard work.

Jiang Jianguo roared inwardly.

Good lad! I knew what you brought out was no ordinary item!

This isn't just pickled cabbage, it's practically an elixir that can prolong life!

But he didn't show it on his face at all; he just straightened his back slightly.

He even glanced coldly at the relatives who had been jumping the loudest earlier, out of the corner of his eye.

The meaning in his eyes was very clear:

See this? This was a gift from my son-in-law! You bunch of ignorant fools, you'll never be worthy of smelling this!

Just as the entire venue fell into a deathly silence, with only heavy breathing echoing throughout,

Master Chen Ping suddenly turned his head.

His bloodshot eyes, swollen with extreme excitement, were fixed on Lin Mo, who stood calmly to the side.

This titan who had dominated the wine industry his entire life had completely abandoned all pretense and dignity at this moment.

His body leaned slightly forward, his expression a mixture of frantic longing and near-devout reverence.

He suddenly opened his mouth and uttered a sentence that made everyone in the room question their existence.

(But it's a scene familiar to all readers!)

"Young friend! No, master!"

Chen Ping's voice was teetering on the edge of cracking.

"This jar of 'Hundred Flowers Wine' is worth more than those few limited-edition beat-up sports cars outside!"

"Even if you offered me a courtyard house within Beijing's Second Ring Road right now, I, this old man, would absolutely not trade it!!"

"Please, just let me smell it, just a sniff, okay?!"