The sun had reached its peak over the Azure Sword Sect, but inside the master courtyard, time had completely stopped.
The air no longer smelled of blooming peach blossoms. It did not smell of calming sandalwood or bitter medicinal herbs.
It smelled of soy sauce. It smelled of caramelized sugar, star anise, and the rich, intoxicating, utterly divine aroma of slow-rendered, supreme-grade spirit-pork fat.
Sitting on his heated jade cushion, Yan Shuo's dark eyes were locked entirely on the closed kitchen door.
His posture was perfectly straight. He wasn't leaning lazily against the tree. He was rigidly focused. He looked like an ancient, bloodthirsty warlord preparing to receive a divine weapon from the heavens.
In reality, the Demon Lord was just waiting for lunch.
"Is it ready yet, Zhi'er?" Yan Shuo called out, keeping his voice smooth, though a microscopic tremor of sheer, unadulterated anticipation leaked into his tone.
