Chapter 5

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Surui clicked his tongue again. With a puzzled look from Cen An, he tossed the little puppy into his arms and stretched out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Cen An, confused, had his sword snatched away and watched as this man casually picked up a sharp-toothed mouse and, within ten seconds, skinned it flawlessly.

Cen An thought to himself: …So I was being mocked just now, wasn’t I!

He petted the little puppy a few times, then suddenly noticed something was off. Looking down in shock, he exclaimed, “What happened to your tail?”

He had trimmed the puppy’s tail before, but only the burnt part, using scissors. Although trimmed close to the skin, there was still a fine layer of fuzz left—bald but still quite cute.

But now, the puppy’s tail was completely bare, not a single hair left! Pale and hanging behind its rump, Cen An took a double take and almost mistook it for a pig’s tail…

The puppy whimpered pitifully and burrowed into his arms, then realizing something, turned around and tucked its tail in, caring more for its head than its rear.

Cen An’s heart ached. “What’s going on? Why did the hair suddenly fall out?”

Silver Xiang grumbled inwardly—what else could it be? Of course, it was his ruthless older brother’s doing! To punish him for wandering around, his brother had used his powers to pluck all the hair from his tail!

He had never known that wind-based powers could be used like this!

Now, in the short term, he wouldn’t be able to transform back to his original form.

After all, a bald tail on a young pup might barely stir pity, but on a sub-adult Silver Moon Wolf… damn, just imagining it was painful to the eyes!

Surui continued skinning the mice with practiced ease, as if he had been doing this for eighty years. Cold-hearted like a sword, in no time he had stripped seventeen mice clean without a scrap of flesh or blood left on their pelts.

Seeing the skins spotless, Surui’s eyes narrowed slightly in satisfaction.

Cen An cleared his throat. “Are you here to eat? Where are the ingredients?”

Surui raised a hand, and a pile of items materialized out of thin air.

Cen An’s pupils contracted—space-type power!

Earlier that day, while chatting with Qu Yue, he had indirectly asked about power users.

Qu Yue explained that common powers were divided into five elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, each ranked from level 1 to 10. She and Zhao Wu were both level 3, experts in Yongning Village, but mediocre outside.

Besides these, there were rare powers like spatial, psychic, and lightning types, which were few in number but often more formidable in combat.

Qu Yue, nearly thirty years old, had met only a handful of rare power users.

Cen An hadn’t expected that the owner of the casually picked-up pup was such a rare spatial power user.

He quietly raised the danger level of this newcomer to the maximum and calmly inspected the food brought along.

Most eye-catching were two live wild pheasants. The mountains had wild pheasant eggs, so naturally wild pheasants too. But under the pressure of strange beasts, ordinary mountain animals became increasingly rare. For ordinary people, a single bite of meat was an extravagant luxury.

Nearby was a sack of rice, about five pounds. Cen An lifted it and frowned. “I thought no grain could grow now?”

Qu Yue had told him before that although the mountain land was fertile with wild grass, attempts to cultivate grain failed mysteriously.

Surui raised an eyebrow. “In the deep mountains, there are still some places where crops grow, just fewer.”

Cen An nodded. The way this man spoke of the deep mountains was as if the mountains belonged to his family.

That reassured him further. Since there were still arable lands, he wouldn’t stand out too much.

Finally, there was a bundle of, well, weeds?

He carefully examined the large clump of plants—edible and inedible mixed together, with some dead branches and leaves tossed in, obviously grabbed and crumpled at random.

Cen An sighed, holding the weed bundle, and consoled himself: well, at least he paid.

Surui, sensitive to moods, leaned in. “What’s wrong? I smelled it, no poison.”

Cen An bit back a laugh. “No poison doesn’t mean it’s edible. Please leave it for the mountain rabbits and sheep.”

“Hmm…” Surui pondered, then flipped his hand, revealing five crystal cores. “Here.”

Cen An instantly felt there was nothing to be upset about. It was just some weeds; if the guest was willing to eat them, he could stew them.

He took the crystals, lifted the wild pheasants, and prepared to process the birds first.

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He held the iron sword, recalling how chickens were slaughtered in the market—cutting the neck to bleed?

“Are the toes for me too?” Surui hesitated.

Cen An: ?

Surui pointed at the sword. “If you cut at this angle, the pheasant’s head and your toes will fall off together.”

Cen An inhaled sharply, smiling.

How is your tongue still alive with such sharpness?

Surui sighed and reached out.

Cen An: ?

The tall, muscular dog owner said bluntly, “Give me one crystal core back; I’ll handle the chicken.”

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It must be said, the dog owner really knew how to prepare the chicken—plucking the feathers cleanly, chopping the pieces evenly.

Whether it was worth a crystal core was another matter.

While this was happening, Cen An tidied up the weeds, discarding the inedible parts and finding some good ingredients.

Wild scallions, wild garlic, a handful of water celery, and a small sprig of green Sichuan pepper—all perfect for a simple stir-fried chicken dish.

In the small shack, they lit the campfire again and hung a large iron pot.

Cen An scooped out some yellow chicken fat from the meat and slowly rendered it at the bottom of the pot. Soon, bubbling oil was forced out, gathering into a shiny pool.

Fresh chicken pieces were dumped in with a sizzle—

The aroma in the small shack was so inviting it was hard to stay away.

Silver Xiang, hiding his tail obediently, couldn’t resist anymore and poked his head out of the hay pile, whining softly.

Cen An instinctively responded, “Almost done. Soon you can eat. I’ll make you a cold water celery salad, okay?”

Silver Xiang howled happily.

Surui grabbed him by the scruff and tossed him on the ground, clearly puzzled why this man treated his brother so much better than him.

That pup, fat and bloated like a float bladder, was hardly cute.

Cen An quickly stir-fried the chicken, drying off the moisture, then added wild scallions, wild garlic, green Sichuan pepper, salt, and fermented bean paste, frying briefly once more.

He poured in boiling water and tossed in the pepper leaves, starting the stew.

The chicken would need at least half an hour to stew, and the rice was not yet steamed. He opened his wooden box, took out a few iron chunks, and smiled. “I’ll go get a different iron pot.”

Then he left.

Of course, he had nowhere to exchange pots; he simply walked to a secluded spot and used his recipe to craft an iron pot himself.

This time it was a combined steaming and boiling pot, something Cen An could use.

He steamed the rice, and while waiting, arranged the skinned mouse pelts.

He wouldn’t tan them himself; that would have to wait until tomorrow’s market trip. Mouse meat couldn’t be eaten but could be used as bait. If he made a trap, he could catch chickens and rabbits himself…

The campfire crackled. Even with the lid on, the iron pot emitted an undeniable delicious aroma.

Silver Xiang was so tempted he forgot his bare tail, circling the pot eagerly.

Surui held out, but his tapping fingers on his knee betrayed his anxiety.

Under their silent urging, Cen An lifted the lid and looked inside. “It’s ready. Time to eat.”

Surui’s eyes brightened. With a flick, two wooden rice basins, larger than washbasins, clattered down.

Cen An: …

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Well, he originally planned for them to eat directly from the pot, but with the basins, it was much easier. Otherwise, he would have had to wait until they finished to eat his own meal.

The heavy iron pot and two chickens’ weight was considerable, so Surui took the lead and poured a large basin of stewed chicken.

Cen An helped pour the rice into the other basin.

The rice was only husked, so in the previous world it would have been brown rice. Cen An added plenty of water, steamed it well, and since it was new rice, the fragrance was strong.

Oh, and there was water celery too.

He blanched the tender water celery in hot water, sprinkled a little soy sauce, and mixed in some leftover wild scallion and garlic for a fresh, crisp salad.

One meat dish, one vegetable—ready. Cen An clapped his hands. “Please enjoy.”

The man and the wolf pup seemed to follow an unspoken order, heads down, eating voraciously.

The chicken pieces were fully flavored, coated in glossy sauce—salty, savory, rich, with the tingling numbness of Sichuan pepper and the spicy bite of wild scallions…

Cooked perfectly, the meat fell off the bone with each bite.

Surui polished off nearly half the basin in one go, making Silver Xiang fret and whimper, afraid his brother would eat it all and leave none for him.

Cen An began preparing his own dinner.

He saved some chicken fat and, after asking Surui, used it to coat the pot bottom. He washed and shredded fresh and wood mushrooms, tossed them in, and stir-fried a mixed mushroom dish.

The mushrooms offered a different kind of umami. The two meat-obsessed brothers glanced back simultaneously, embarrassed to ask for some.

The mountain root fruit rolled into the ash pile as usual, and Cen An made a mint egg-drop soup.

He had wanted to make mint mushroom soup, but now that there were wild pheasant eggs, egg-drop soup was naturally more fragrant.

The egg ribbons unfolded layer upon layer in boiling water. He crushed some washed fresh mint leaves and tossed them in, releasing a refreshing aroma.

He filled a wooden bowl to the brim and placed it on the brothers’ table. “This is on me. Thanks for helping with the mouse pelts.”

Surui pondered, took a sip, and brightened. “This…”

Cen An cut him off. “Mint grows everywhere in the mountains. If you want more, go find it yourself. Not every plant is edible.”

Surui’s expression immediately became serious. “Oh.”

Cen An calmly returned to his own meal.

Though meatless, the stir-fried mushrooms were delicious, especially the fresh mushrooms, whose rich umami lived up to their name. Though simply stir-fried, they had a thick, savory flavor.

The mint egg soup was a favorite from his previous life. Mint neutralized the egg’s gamey taste, leaving only the aroma of egg and mint’s freshness—a sip filled with pure refreshment.

The meal satisfied all three. The brothers poured the rice into the chicken basin and licked up every last drop of broth.

When they left, the two large wooden basins were as clean as new.

That wasn’t surprising, but Cen An wondered why not a single chicken bone remained. Surely they hadn’t eaten those too? Or did they also put them into their spatial pocket?

Well, they were quite frugal.

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The small hut grew quiet without the man and dog.

They agreed that Surui would hire Cen An for only one meal a day, coming only at night, since Cen An might not be home during the day.

The campfire gradually died down, moonlight streaming through the roof’s hole.

Cen An tidied the wood ash and sorted the remaining supplies, then climbed onto the rickety bamboo bed.

The second day in this world had come to an end.