He was so cold that frost appeared on his skin; it almost seemed like the alcohol in the cup could turn him into a statue of ice.
This alcohol would most certainly kill any ordinary Spirit Severing Cultivator who drank it. However, Meng Hao’s fleshly body was far too powerful for that. Although his Cultivation base and Divine Sense had been frozen over, his fleshly body only vibrated slightly. In a short moment, thousands of these vibrations occurred. The frequency of the vibrations seemed to accord with some great Dao, and within the space of about ten breaths, white steam began to rise up from the top of his head. It filled the entire top level of the tower, and even caused the walls to make cracking sounds as they frosted over.
A serious expression appeared in the eyes of the elegant woman, and although Saint Sun Soul’s face was expressionless, his eyes were cold as he stared at Meng Hao.
“Your alcohol isn’t very strong, at least, not as strong as mine.” Meng Hao slapped his bag of holding to produce, not another gourd bottle, but Han Shan’s bronze alcohol flagon. He also pulled out a glass which he then filled with alcohol and slid across to Saint Sun Soul.
“Please, be my guest,” he said coolly.
Saint Sun Soul’s face twitched as he looked down at the glass. He hesitated, which was something he rarely did.