Chapter 500 The Garcia Family's Formula
"Level-eight tea formula?"
A stunned silence fell over the hall before erupting into mocking laughter. No one believed James capable of such a feat.
Level-five tea had dominated the market for thirty years, making the Garcia family wealthy beyond measure.
A level-eight formula—if it even existed—would revolutionize the entire beverage industry, potentially challenging giants like Coca-Cola.
"Level eight? Who do you think you are?" Githa's voice dripped with contempt. "You're nothing but a country bumpkin. What could you possibly know about fine tea?"
Beckett's lips curled into a cold smile. "If you can produce level-eight tea, I'll admit to stealing your formula and kowtow to you and your mother in apology."
The Garcia women exchanged glances, their whispers carrying through the hall:
"What a fool! He couldn't even manage level three."
"Look at his stupid face. All he does is stare at women's legs."
"He stared at my chest too. Disgusting man—clearly never seen real beauty before."
Michelle clutched James's sleeve, her eyes wide with concern. "James..." she whispered urgently.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly before facing the assembly with unwavering confidence.
"If I produce level-eight tea, would that prove my mother didn't steal your formula?
"And if this level-eight formula shares lineage with the 'upgraded' Grandma's Black Tea, would that prove Beckett is the true thief?"
James stepped forward, his gaze challenging the matriarch directly. "When Beckett is exposed as a fraud, Mrs. Garcia, will you deliver justice?"
The old woman straightened in her chair, eyes flashing with cold fire. "If you wish to humiliate yourself, I'll gladly oblige."
She tapped her cane against the floor. "Brew your supposed level-eight tea before everyone. If you succeed, I'll declare Michelle innocent and Beckett the thief. I'll even break his leg with my cane myself."
Her voice hardened. "But if you fail, you're both thieves. Not only will I have the police deal with you harshly, but before sending you to the station, I'll have your limbs broken. Do you dare accept these terms?"
Being a tea expert herself, she didn't believe James could create level-eight tea at all.
"Agreed. Everyone here bears witness." James wrote down a list of ingredients and tossed it to an elder. "Find these herbs and equipment. I'll brew it right here, right now."
The list contained only ingredient names, not quantities—he wasn't concerned about revealing the formula.
Mrs. Garcia waved to the family members. "Do as he says!"
Within minutes, the materials were gathered and professional brewing equipment wheeled into the hall.
Without wasting words, James began processing the ingredients with remarkable speed, Michelle assisting him.
The onlookers started their mockery:
"Look at that technique—clearly a novice."
"When it's finished, everyone will spit it out. I can't wait to see his face then!"
"I won't drink it. Tea made by a country bumpkin doesn't deserve to touch my lips."
Several tea appraisers entered and sat beside Mrs. Garcia, watching with obvious skepticism as James worked through the complex process with ease.
James ignored their taunts completely, focusing entirely on his brewing.
Though creating level-eight tea required dozens of diverse ingredients, to James, it was still a piece of cake.
In less than two hours, a large pot of black tea sat steaming before them.
James distributed it into dozens of exquisite cups, ensuring every family member and appraiser received one.
The liquid resembled honey water, exuding a fragrance that instantly stimulated everyone's appetite—though no one dared drink first.
Githa wrinkled her nose. "What is this? Is it even drinkable?"
"How is this different from roadside honey water?" Beckett scoffed. "Completely lacking in sophistication."
James said coolly, "Just taste it and you will know."
Mrs. Garcia waved dismissively toward the appraisers. "You try it first."
The four experts lifted their cups with obvious reluctance. They had prepared to immediately spit out what they assumed would be a disastrous brew.
But as the tea's fragrance reached them, something unexpected happened. Their eyes closed involuntarily in pleasure.
With one sip, their expressions transformed.
A profound sensation of joyful freedom spread through them—like birds soaring through open skies, like fish leaping carefree from the sea. Waves of exhilaration washed away all tension and discontent.
The appraisers' eyes widened. Their bodies trembled. Then, as one, they leapt to their feet.
"MAGNIFICENT!" they shouted. "What extraordinary tea! A once-in-a-century creation!"
Mrs. Garcia, Beckett, and Githa watched in horror as the Garcia family members grabbed cups and gulped down the tea, their expressions shifting from skepticism to wonder.
"God, what is this? I feel instantly refreshed!"
"The ulcer in my mouth—it's stopped hurting. It's healing!"
"My stomach pain has vanished. This tea is miraculous!"
"Truly worthy of level-eight status!"
Mrs. Garcia's hand trembled as she reluctantly took a sip. A moment later, her wrist jerked, and the teacup shattered on the floor.
The senior appraiser composed himself enough to deliver the verdict, "Mrs. Garcia, this tea is indeed level eight!"
"Level eight!" the others confirmed in unison.
All eyes turned to James—the supposed novice who had suddenly revealed himself as a master. The hall fell silent.
"Beckett," James's voice cut through the stillness, "what do you have to say for yourself now?"
He stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. "The level-six tea was my mother's gift to the Garcia family—compensation for accidentally leaking a formula twenty years ago. You tricked her, claimed it as your own, then accused her of theft to erase her contribution."
His voice rose with righteous anger, "Now, with this level-eight tea before you, what excuse remains?"
Beckett and Githa's faces darkened with humiliation as Michelle exhaled deeply, finally vindicated.
"Mrs. Garcia," James turned to the matriarch, "you promised to break Beckett's leg. As head of this family, deliver the justice you promised."
He was giving the Garcia family one final chance.
"Mrs. Garcia!" Beckett cried out desperately.
The old woman rose slowly, regarding James with a calculating smile that never reached her eyes.
"James, I admit that your ability to improve upon Beckett's level-six tea and create this once-in-a-century level-eight tea shows remarkable talent."
Her voice hardened. "Write down the Garcia family's level-eight tea formula for us, and we'll overlook your mother's theft and your assault. We'll even give her the opportunity to return to the family."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "Otherwise, I'll call the police and have you both arrested!"
Michelle's face turned ashen as her faith in family crumbled in an instant.
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