The guesthouse remained lively and bustling, rounds of drinks and dishes creating an air of celebration. Chopsticks descended like rain on soft, tender pieces of stewed human flesh glistening with rich fat.
Chen Yi gently stirred the soup bowl before him. The clear broth reflected the faces of the guesthouse's patrons—a black dog, a sheep demon, and a towering figure with a narrow, sinister bull's head that occasionally glanced down at the scene from above.
By sheer coincidence, as Chen Yi and Lu Ying journeyed from Taihua Mountain, they stumbled upon this grand feast celebrating the bull demon's birthday.
Ordinary folk feast on beef; in contrast, this Lord Bull stews human flesh.
As Chen Yi looked closer into his bowl, he noticed how Lord Bull's gaze often drifted toward a group of scholars—ten or so budding intellectuals—all unmistakably human and without a trace of supernatural origins.
Blissfully unaware of the true nature of the feast, they raised their cups in jovial toasts and indulged in rrint.
Seeing Chen Yi and Lu Ying sitting quietly without joining the revelry, Lord Bull tempered the glint in his eyes. He fiddled with the gold bracelet on his wrist, gauging whether the pair were formidable over-the-river dragons or re helpless lambs. Casting another glance at Lu Ying's robes, their distinct design appeared to be from Yin Sword Mountain—a mark of status. Best not to ddle, he thought prudently.
Besides…
The at was already sufficient.
Lord Bull glanced at the scholars at the table, smacking his lips. These delicate-skinned, unworldly human lambs, whose flesh surely surpassed the taste of ordinary folk. Who knows—perhaps their at would carry a rich, scholarly fragrance, not unlike how the finest roasted beef exudes a fruity aroma.
By now, most of the scholars at the table had drunk themselves into a stupor. Many leaned lazily against the tables and chairs, their faces flush from the alcohol. Only three or four were half-drunk, including one particularly handso young man. His favorite dish was the sashimi, and upon finding the platters empty, he loudly summoned the servant for more.
Soon, another dish of fresh sashimi was brought to the table.
White fish at contrasted against the red of beef, their colors mingling—adding an air of festive cheer. Just as the young man was about to pick up his chopsticks, an elder scholar sitting nearby, the group's leader and highly respected, tugged at his sleeve and admonished him, "The host has yet to act, and you, the guest, would act first!"
This elder scholar, Zhao Deshan, was revered among the group of scholars. As soon as he spoke, the younger man dared not move his chopsticks. Lord Bull quickly placed his hand on the table and pushed forward a cup of wine, saying, "Sir Deshan, you jest—we're but humble folk here, and notions of host and guest don't matter. Let's enjoy ourselves!"
At this, Zhao Deshan eased his grip. The handso young man hurriedly picked up his chopsticks. He slid a slice of sashimi into his mouth—the flavor sweet and fresh, without a trace of fishiness. He reached for another slice, dipping it in shredded ginger and soy sauce to find the salty tang accentuating its sweetness. Pairing it with yellow wine, he couldn't help knocking his chopsticks against the bowl in delight.
Observing this, Lord Bull muttered wistfully, "Young Master Li truly loves sashimi."
The handso young man wiped his lips and quickly replied, "It's not so much that I love eating it—the fish is simply remarkably sweet."
"How does it taste sweet?"
"As Master Lao said, 'In the northern depths lies a fish.' And he also proclaid that, 'Rather than support each other in hardship, better to forget each other in the wilds of Jianghu.' Fish, you see, are born for carefree destinies. Their mories flash by in fleeting monts, their lives epheral as mayflies amidst vast waters. Naturally, they embody sweetness in their essence—how could they not taste sweet?"
This young scholar, with his fine words and scholarly allusions, delivered his reply despite his drunken, rosy cheeks. His eloquence stirred Lord Bull, who stroked his beard and laughed, praising him profusely.
As host and guests reveled in their rrint, a sudden discordant voice broke the atmosphere.
The newcor who had entered earlier plucked a piece of beef with his chopsticks and remarked leisurely, "Slaughtering plow oxen privately—that's against the law."
The voice, neither loud nor soft, was audible across the front hall, and the entire space fell into abrupt silence.
A governnt officer's token was placed on the table. Monts later, the glint of a blade shimred at the man's waist. Seeing this, Hu San's legs trembled, almost giving way. Never could he have imagined that this man was a governnt officer!
"You jest, sir—this isn't private slaughter…"
"Not private slaughter? Then how can the at be so fresh?" Chen Yi spread the piece of beef flat under sunlight, its fibers gleaming faintly.
He glanced at the scholars seated at the table, then slowly shifted his gaze toward Lord Bull, and said, "You are the master of this guesthouse. Care to have a proper discussion with us?"
Lord Bull's white brows twitched slightly.
This ti, he had encountered a true over-the-river dragon.
A malice blood in his eyes. Niu Zhonggao, the bull demon who had road Yaojin Mountain unchecked for decades, had seen all manner of dragons cross his path. A little extra bribery often avoided trouble, but did they truly think he was weak? Looking again at the pair, a man from Yin Sword Mountain traveling with a Taoist woman, perhaps they were only bluffing—donning tiger skins to appear fierce.
Lord Bull slowly spoke, "It's the first I've heard that at being too fresh could turn into a cri."
"Failing to report private slaughter to governnt authorities—light punishnt warrants thirty strokes of the cane; severe cases an branding and exile. It's clearly written in this dynasty's laws," Chen Yi drawled with a subtle air of extortion. "Irrelevant persons should take their leave."
The guesthouse plunged into a heavy silence, with a myriad of hidden monsters and demons cloaked in human guise all turning to stare—an eerie tension thickening the air.
A sudden voice broke through decisively.
"For any large or small office to enforce the law and arrest soone, a formal warrant is required. Since you claim to be an officer, where is your warrant for us to examine?"
It was Zhao Deshan, the elder scholar, who spoke.
Their group had endured a grueling journey—battered by the elents, surviving on sparse coin. Lord Bull had not only welcod them with good food and drink but also prepared to fund their future travels. If he remained silent now, how could he face himself as a man of principle?
Under the collective gaze, Chen Yi spoke slowly, "I do not have a warrant. However, given the offense has occurred under my direct observation, I cannot rely stand idly by."
Zhao Deshan responded with a cold laugh. "No warrant, and yet you dare undertake enforcent of the law? Surely this dynasty's statutes reckon arbitrary abuse of power a cri as well?"
Chen Yi arched an eyebrow slightly.
Against a roomful of demons already feasting on human flesh, he could have struck down indiscriminately by now. Yet seeing the scholars present, his priority lay in rescuing them first—lest they fall prey to the sinister creatures around them.
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