Chapter 1699: Chapter 45: Never to Be Forgotten (2)
Jiang Wang’s eye twitched, he couldn’t help but inwardly complain, does anyone really know how to cook fish? Bringing up a live fish to trick ghosts?
"This fish isn’t undercooked," the maid beside him seemed to understand the guest’s thoughts and softly explained, "It’s still moving, but that’s just its extracted instinct, not its vitality."
With that, she picked up a small jade hammer and gently tapped the fish head—
The gold-tinted fish skin surprisingly peeled off entirely, sinking to the bottom of the soup, like a beauty softly discarding her dress.
Thus, fresh and tender white fish meat was exposed to everyone’s view.
The fish skin had shed, yet this jade dragon still continued along its previous path, slowly swimming.
The maid used a jade ladle to scoop a small bowl of fish meat and placed it in front of Jiang Wang.
"Please, young master."
The other maids also served fish to the guests they attended to.
Disregarding the others, Jiang Wang scooped a spoonful for himself and put it in his mouth.
He felt it was smooth, tender, and fragrant, and couldn’t help but swallow it whole.
All the aroma seemed to have been gathered by this fish meat.
Then it exploded on the tip of the tongue, then crashed in the throat.
Even though the fish meat was swallowed, the fragrance lingered on the lips and teeth, like that jade dragon swimming in the jade bowl...
The ultimate taste of the human world!
Jiang Wang had only this thought in his mind.
No one spoke; everyone silently finished the fish meat in their bowls and waited for the maids to serve another bowl.
The jade dragon in the dragon boat jade bowl soon left behind only a fully intact fishbone skeleton, yet it still swam in the soup.
This was its extracted, swimming "instinct".
Jiang Wang glanced at the dragon boat jade bowl, he somewhat wanted to taste the fish soup, but the maid serving didn’t seem to have any intention of serving him...
While hesitating whether to do it himself, the leading maid took back the lid and covered the dragon boat jade bowl.
Seemingly unintentionally, yet as if reminding, she said, "This jade dragon can’t be used to make soup because all the impurities are within. This soup is inferior."
Jiang Wang thought, perhaps even inferior soup might taste good.
But the serving attendant had already taken the dragon boat jade bowl away and went downstairs.
Leaving a sense of desolation.
...
...
Some people live in luxurious tall buildings, some have no roof over their heads.
Some harbor fragrance with elegance, some curl up and embrace stench.
In this world, people are inherently different.
Born differently, seen differently, encountered differently, desired differently.
A lifetime of differences.
Fang Helling often recalled the scenes of those people drinking and laughing with joy.
He actually wanted very much to join them.
Wanted to be like them, bold and unrestrained.
But he was never like them.
The so-called "Maple Forest Five Heroes," placed anywhere in the world, was such a ridiculous title.
Not formidable at all, exceedingly clumsy.
Even within Fenglin City, they couldn’t reach the level of the Transcendent. No cultivator would take a second glance.
Yet among the outer sect disciples of the Maple Forest City Daoist Academy, it was remarkably resounding.
In the eyes of someone like him who eagerly wanted to enter the City Taoist Institute, it was simply legendary.
Five of the most outstanding outer sect disciples, who shared common aspirations, formed a brotherhood of life and death. Together, they braved mountains and rivers, acted chivalrously. Perhaps in the future, they would also wield their swords in Qing Ming together.
He desperately wanted to be a part of it.
He also imagined himself, with one promise, drawing his sword, traveling miles away, slaying the enemy’s head only to return with grandeur. He wanted to drink fine wine and sing boldly with his brothers.
But in this life, it was no longer possible.
All those who completely changed later on, initially never really wanted to change!
Blood.
Blood is such a vivid, yet painful color.
Not sure when it started. Everything seen in the eyes was covered in the color of blood.
No, something’s wrong.
This world was inherently blood-colored.
No, that’s not right...
You clearly remember when it started...
So why blur it?
Why forget?
Why be so cowardly?
Why, despite trying so hard, still be! So! Weak!
A wave of excruciating pain came from the location of his heart. Like ants crawling, knives cutting, or flames burning.
The ceaseless pain made Fang Helling want to fall down, curl up on the ground, hugging himself.
But he just stood there silently, expressionless.
In front of him was a high cliff, and on the cliff was a stout pine tree rooted deep.
Hanging from the pine tree was a person.
The person’s hands were tied together, suspended over his head.
The rope was blood-colored, and the other end of the rope was embedded into the tree branch, as if co-existing with it.
The person’s feet were also tied together, wrapped several turns in blood-colored rope, converging behind him, like two blood snakes, suddenly taut, nailed into the cliff.
This person was thus fixed mid-air. His teeth clenched, eyes wide open, eyeballs bulged out, veins popped on his forehead.
In this place and at this time, it was actually very silent, with only the wind blowing.
And Fang Helling, who stood silently, extended his right hand, reaching into the chest of the person in front, gripping his heart.
Hatred from divine skills, to convey hatred through hatred, to question the heart with the heart.
Using pain to amplify pain.
The person in front, who was tormented and in pain, did not know that the torturer was even more pained than he was.
Of course, even if he knew, it would be of no help to alleviate anything.
Fang Helling had long been accustomed to this degree of pain, silently chewing on the information conveyed by that heart.
The vast majority of it was useless, only a rare few clues could be gleaned, like searching for crickets in the grass as a child—this was simpler than making the other party speak.
"The Church of Lifeless’s Moon Rabbit, is it the Rabbit Mask of the Twelve Bone Masks from before..."
Fang Helling murmured to himself.
His hand slowly tightened, and the heart was thus gradually crushed.
The person hanging, his eyes remained wide, but the light in them had already dissipated.
