The Journey of Immortal Cultivation Chapter 314 - 189: Minced Soup

At that mont, the two of them delved back into business discussions. Along her journey, Ning Xiaoxian had oppressed the Qiongqi in the Pill Furnace to refine quite a few elixirs, and with Deng Hao in need, she naturally offered them generously. Beyond the standard redies, she also gifted him a few Spirit Pills that only cultivators could refine.

Such things were not necessarily for sale, but they were excellent gifts. After all, for mortals, Immortal Elixirs are treasures that money can hardly buy.

After leaving Deng Hao’s place, Tu Jin sneered coldly: "Mortals are always scrabbling for every bit, even a small profit warrants their ticulous calculation." Although he did not enter Deng Hao’s main hall, his keen hearing allowed him to listen clearly from outside.

Ning Xiaoxian glanced at him and said with a smile: "If mortals weren’t so greedy, that avatar of yours would have vanished long ago in the Sealed Land." She was referring to mortals lured by treasures, venturing into the "Heavenly Ladder" secret realm to offer up their Essence, Qi, Blood, and soul.

Tu Jin was lost for words for a mont.

Ning Xiaoxian intended to linger in Anping City for a few days. This was not only her thought but also the intention of everyone in Anping City. By then, even commoners knew that when Emperor’s Fluid was in ample supply, it was the ti for a group of demons to dance. Unless there was an earth-shattering disaster, no one would leave the safety of the city at this ti and make trouble for themselves.

Therefore, Anping City had attracted so many people.

That afternoon, He Xiaojiu volunteered to act as her tour guide. As a qualified foodie, wherever he arrived, he could always find local specialties with his keen sense of sll. Besides, he had arrived in Anping City three days earlier than Ning Xiaoxian.

Gourts all know that the finest food is always hidden deep in the alleys.

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It’s like the chefs of five-star hotels and the masters of roadside food stalls; the sa dish prepared by both might differ in flavor. The chef’s skill is undeniably exquisite, but there will inevitably be custors who prefer the holy taste of the food stalls.

Ning Xiaoxian, who had once aspired to beco a seasoned food connoisseur, followed He Xiaojiu through twists and turns, only to find a small eatery with a shabby appearance in the end.

The restaurant seed to have been around for decades, with its dilapidated signboard barely retaining any color. On it was painted a colossal bull in full sprint, sketched in just a few strokes but very lifelike. Inside, the space was quite large, furnished with only the simplest square tables and long benches. Fortunately, the tabletops and the floor were relatively clean.

The restaurant was full, yet it was oddly quiet with not many people talking. After the food was served, everyone tucked in voraciously; the entire hall was filled with the sound of slurping soup. A few minutes later, the patrons cleaned their plates, wiped their mouths, stood up, and left. With more than a dozen tables in the restaurant, the staff moved endlessly between them, delivering food, clearing bowls, and bustling about till they were sweating profusely.

While waiting outside, she had already noticed that the eatery only offered two kinds of dishes: offal soup and Naan bread. When she and He Xiaojiu finally sat down, the waiter slamd down two huge bowls in front of them and then turned and walked away.

In Anping City, offal soup can be enjoyed on every street; it is one of the locals’ favorite als. But for He Xiaojiu to specifically bring her here, it must an that this place’s soup has the most authentic taste. This dish is made by simring the offal (aning the internal organs) of cattle and sheep. First, you must wash the stomach, tongue, heart, and intestines, blanch them to remove the blood and any off-flavors, slice them thin, and then add them to beef broth that has already been seasoned, simring everything gently for three hours until all the ingredients beco tender but not mushy, retaining chewiness while still being delicious.

She gently sipped a mouthful, and a rich, robust scent unique to beef and lamb wafted across her taste buds. The inherent gay sll of the ats had disappeared without a trace. Hot steam rose from the searing broth; with a light stir of the spoon, white tripe floated up and down in the bowl. Each swallow felt almost magical, compelling diners to indulge in big gulps. Ning Xiaoxian barely restrained herself from grabbing the bowl and slurping the soup greedily; looking around, she saw other male patrons eagerly lifting their bowls and guzzling with relish.

After taking a few sips, she finally understood why offal soup was so popular here. The essence of this soup lies in its devotion to the original flavors of the at, reminiscent of traditional Chinese soups, simple yet delicious.

It was almost November by this ti. In the mornings, frost flowers could be seen clinging to the withering yellow grass and trees outside. Coming in from the chilly outdoors and drinking down such a bowl of hot soup instantly ward both heart and stomach, truly one of humanity’s most humble pleasures.