James Bolton was unconvinced, but he had always been afraid of his mother since childhood. Maybe it was because he was mischievous as a kid and got punished by her too many times, so he had gotten used to being timid and submissive in front of his mother, not daring to talk back.

He thought the matter was over and that being scolded a few times by his mom was the end of it, but unexpectedly, Mrs. Bolton suddenly had a bright idea and wanted him to learn knitting from Little Tom, saying that having a skillful son at home was just wonderful.

What kind of logic is that?

James Bolton was miserable, and his mom would urge him about it every week, to the point where he started questioning his own existence... Maybe he wasn’t even their biological child.

Parents are supposed to encourage their kids to study hard, not force them to knit sweaters.

James Bolton was very depressed. He couldn’t go against his parents, so he took out his anger on Tom Harris, hating him to the core... If it weren’t for his inexplicable hobby, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Tom Harris said, “How is this my fault?”

In short, the two of them had become enemies. At this moment, as rivals met, their eyes blazed with hostility. James Bolton’s face was full of a cold sneer, and he made up his mind: if he didn’t drink Tom Harris into a psychological shadow today, he’d write his own name backwards.

Seeing the malicious look on the other’s face, Tom Harris felt a bit nervous too. Who else would know his own alcohol tolerance better than himself?

But with everyone watching, how could he admit defeat?

Guys are all about saving face.

Don’t chicken out, just go for it!

The chubby guy gritted his teeth, already prepared to throw up three times if necessary.

He even set his phone to play his favorite song—as a man with his own BGM, he couldn’t lose in terms of momentum.

Isn’t this atmosphere just tragic and heroic?

But just then, Henry Clark reached out and patted his shoulder: “Little Tom, let me go first. If I can’t do it, then you’re up.”

Fatty’s eyes instantly grew moist. Now that’s a real brother—thinking of him even when he’s in trouble himself... He’d already decided to knit a friendship sweater for Henry Clark when he got home.

Actually, Henry Clark just wanted to experiment again.

Although the effect just now was very clear, cultivation is no joke, and Henry Clark was still half in doubt, not quite daring to believe that something like this could happen around him.

So, he wanted to keep testing it.

Chapter 7: A Stunning Performance

A trace of stubbornness flashed across James Bolton’s face. He was just about to teach that annoying guy a lesson, but unexpectedly, someone else jumped in halfway.

This guy could barely protect himself but still wanted to show off.

Fine, if you don’t know your limits, I’ll just get you drunk first.

James Bolton was already prepared to take on both of them at once. He was confident in his own drinking ability—he could handle two Henry Clarks and four fatties without a problem.

At this point, it was hardly a fair fight, but as long as he could see them make fools of themselves, he didn’t care about anything else.

The grudge over knitting sweaters had bothered him for a year; this time, he was determined to vent properly.

Classmate James Bolton was full of confidence, but to his surprise, he was quickly defeated.

As it turned out, trying to outdrink a cultivator was sheer folly, even if it was just a rookie like Henry Clark who had only just touched the threshold of cultivation.

Although it was just an experiment, the incantation was the real deal—it could turn intoxicating beer into strength, and even had a body-tempering effect...

Not much, but the feeling was even better than soaking in a hot spring, so the more Henry Clark drank, the more energized he felt. He downed seven or eight bottles of beer in a row, but felt no drunkenness at all. It was as if he wasn’t drinking beer, but just plain water.

“You...”

James Bolton’s eyes widened, and he could barely stand. His stomach was churning, and he couldn’t understand it at all—just a moment ago, Henry Clark had seemed so silly and harmless, so how did his alcohol tolerance suddenly become bottomless?

“Ugh...”

In the end, he couldn’t take it and threw up everywhere. In the end, he only hurt himself. James Bolton, full of endless resentment, passed out in a drunken sleep.

“Are you kidding me? When did Henry Clark become such a heavy drinker?”

The rest of the classmates were in an uproar. Although they enjoyed seeing anyone make a fool of themselves after drinking, Henry Clark’s dazzling comeback was still a bit hard for them to accept.

Their first thought was that he was pretending to be weak, but after a year together as classmates, and with dozens of big and small gatherings, everyone knew each other’s drinking capacity very well.

How did Henry Clark become so formidable after just one semester?

What did he go through during the break?

Some classmates already had thoughtful looks on their faces.

Of course, no matter what, no one would connect his sudden increase in alcohol tolerance to cultivation. Everything needs logic, and that connection would require way too much imagination.

Still, some people were unconvinced.

They really didn’t believe Henry Clark’s drinking capacity was bottomless.

So new challengers appeared, but they were quickly knocked out as well.

Having just set foot on the path of cultivation, the key to this incantation was to turn mundane food—whether meals or drinks—into strength, and temper the body.

But the path of cultivation must also conform to the laws of nature. Specifically, in layman’s terms, it has to follow the law of conservation of energy.