"This young man knows how to read the situation."
Chen Zhao was quite surprised—he hadn't expected a disciple of Ninghai Zen to be so astute, not only calling him "Martial Uncle" but also actively visiting and inviting him for a feast.
"Could it be that someone else killed my Red Blood Qilin Horse? Who else in Black River County holds a grudge against me?!"
The meat being stewed in the large pot was close to tender perfection; the rich broth was enough to awaken the appetite.
Bai Qi served a bowl and casually handed it to Chen Zhao:
"Junior Martial Uncle Chen, why not give it a try? A large buffalo fell at the village entrance, slaughtered just last night—very fresh."
Horse meat is quite coarse, with a slightly sour taste, but through culinary craftsmanship, it was still a feast for the senses.
Xiaotou Ah Xie devoured hungrily; his body was warm, with his Qi Blood flowing tirelessly, permeating every inch of his flesh.
"This meat is rather tender."
