Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Numb

Irene and Xuan Che stared each other down, wide-eyed.

After half a minute, Little Doll finally glanced at the few things he’d pulled out. “That’s it?”

Xuan Che’s face twitched. His century-old Dao heart nearly wobbled, but he still forced himself to nod. “That really is it.”

Seeing that, Yu Sheng sighed and stepped in to smooth things over. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You did your best.”

“Ah. In the end, I’m just not learned enough. I only know how to follow a script.” Xuan Che packed up his things with a dejected look. “There should be a way, but I truly can’t think of it. When I get back, I’ll ask my master, or consult a senior in the sect. Maybe there’ll be a turning point.”

“That works.” Yu Sheng nodded, looking sincerely relieved. “Then I’ll have to trouble you.”

By the time they finished talking, it was nearly noon.

Yu Sheng naturally invited their guest to stay for lunch. He didn’t fuss over questions like whether a cultivator from Thousand Peak Spirit Mountain ate regular meals—first, Xuan Che had already downed a whole can of cola, and second, there was a cultivator in Yu Sheng’s own house who could eat enough for three people.

Xuan Che didn’t refuse. If anything, he was curious. This room was full of beings that clearly weren’t human, yet stubbornly insisted on living like humans. When he agreed, a faint, adventurous, Dao-seeking thrill even rose in his chest.

He would soon learn that staying was absolutely the right call.

Because lunch was made by Foxy.

Maybe it was because a guest from the same “field” was rare, but Foxy volunteered to cook personally, saying she wanted to show the local immortal what her hometown’s traditional food looked like.

Yu Sheng’s first instinct was to stop her. He knew what “fox stew” tended to look like—more cursed art than cuisine. One thing was scaring their guest. Another was Xuan Che panicking, deciding it was some kind of demon technique, drawing his sword, and fighting lunch to the death.

But he didn’t stop her.

Because Foxy grabbed his hand and wagged her tail.

At the table, the Irene prototype unit—complete with a painting frame strapped to her back—looked at Yu Sheng with helpless disbelief. “You really spoil her. Whatever she wants, you give her. Whatever she wants to do, you agree. You know her stew is getting more and more unholy. One day the kitchen door will open and the dish will carry her out, and you still won’t say a word.”

“No, no, it won’t be that bad.” Yu Sheng waved his hands and tried to sound serious. “She suffered too much for decades. I just want to treat her better now—and don’t I treat you well? I molded four bodies for you.”

Irene curled her lip. “If you hadn’t used materials from a ten-yuan shop back then, I’d believe you.”

Xuan Che kept watching the kitchen, fascinated. The door was shut, and his divine sense—which could once pierce mountains and ridges—hit that door and stopped dead, as if there were a wall of iron on the other side. He had no idea what was happening in there.

All he could do was listen to the constant clanging, mixed with booming bursts of flame and wave after wave of flashes. Honestly, it didn’t sound like cooking. Calling it a battlefield might be a stretch… but not by much.

After hesitating for a while, he finally looked up at Yu Sheng. “Is that… the sound of cooking?”

“Her hometown specialty. Fox stew.” Yu Sheng smiled brightly. “It’s fine. It’s just loud. Totally normal. She’s probably explaining reason to the dish right now. Once it understands reason, it can come to the table.”

Xuan Che stared. “…?”

Yu Sheng hurriedly added, like a man issuing a safety briefing. “Oh, and the presentation might be a bit intense when it comes out, so prepare yourself. But even if it doesn’t look good, it tastes pretty great. I’m guessing it should also be really beneficial for cultivators like you.”

Xuan Che grew even more curious. Just as he was wondering how ugly a dish could possibly be, the kitchen door finally opened.

Without thinking, he swept the doorway with divine sense.

In that instant, he saw a blaze of nine-tailed fire he couldn’t fully make out, like violent energy reactions raging inside it. Scorching spiritual radiance billowed upward as it moved.

Xuan Che went rigid, yanked his divine sense back, and then watched as Foxy carried a lidded soup pot to the table. Yu Sheng stood to help lift the lid. Steam rose—and with it, something else seemed to rise as well.

Xuan Che leaned forward and took one confused look into the pot.

His Dao heart trembled.

He stood there for several long seconds before he finally looked at Yu Sheng with wide eyes, speaking hesitantly, like a man sleepwalking. “It… it greeted me.”

Yu Sheng thought about it. “Then I guess this stew is pretty polite this time.”

Xuan Che: “…?”

If this “dish” kept stewing, it was about to shapeshift and ascend, wasn’t it?

Before he could process that, Foxy was already ladling the stew into bowls, portioning it out at lightning speed. As she worked, she muttered under her breath, “Benefactor gets a bowl, I get a bowl, the guest gets a bowl, I get a bowl, Irene gets a bowl, I get a whole pot…”

“Eat while it’s hot.” Yu Sheng smiled gently at the handsome young man across from him. “It really does taste good.”

The master’s order was on him.

Those words floated up in Xuan Che’s mind as he stared into his bowl. In the faintly rippling, constantly bubbling broth, he caught sight of something familiar.

His master’s copper-headed belt.

With it came his master’s earnest instructions before he left:

“Xuan Che, remember this. The expert you’re going to see this time is the one who fought dark angels and won. An expert like that will definitely have strange and miraculous things around them. When you go, be bold and be careful. If the expert rewards you with something, take it. It might be a huge opportunity…”

Steeling himself, Xuan Che scooped up a spoonful and ate.

Yu Sheng watched as the handsome young man took one bite—then froze, his expression turning strange, motionless as if he’d dropped straight into meditation.

Yu Sheng waited half a minute before he couldn’t help asking, “What’s wrong? Does it not suit your taste?”

Xuan Che jolted as if waking from a trance, but his expression only grew stranger. He held it in for a long moment, then finally forced out a sentence.

“…It’s better than what I refine.”

Yu Sheng blinked. “…What?”

Xuan Che couldn’t be bothered to explain. He took another spoonful, and in his mind flashed a hundred years of being scolded for misremembering pill recipes, punished to kneel for messing up timing, beaten for ruining the pill fire…

He looked down at the contents of his bowl with one question burning in his head.

If the pill effect was this pure, how could it look like this?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two golden-glowing shadowspawn hop out from who-knew-where.

He looked up—and realized they were two grand, radiant, gold-winged, jade-crowned… nameless divine birds. They hopped from Foxy’s shoulder onto the table and lowered their heads to peck at a small bowl of stew.

He didn’t recognize the species, but he suspected their cultivation was even higher than the two celestial cranes his master kept in the Sea of Clouds—though their eyes looked a bit… off.

They carried an aura of pristine holiness.

Yu Sheng introduced them casually. “These two are Bai Qie and Yan Ju. They’re Foxy’s pets.”

Xuan Che hesitated, then looked at Foxy—who had already started holding the pot and eating directly from it. After a long pause, he squeezed out, through clenched teeth, “The names… are very good.”

Yu Sheng gave an awkward smile, still debating whether he should explain Bai Qie and Yan Ju’s real species, when a sharp “bang” rang out from somewhere in the house.

The next second, the TV in the living room went silent. The kitchen lights cut out. The air conditioner stopped humming. Even the fridge went still.

Irene, who had been sitting cross-legged on the table, yelped, “Mom!” and sprang up—only to tumble right off the edge.

Startled, Yu Sheng lunged and caught her, then snapped his head toward the living room. Something clattered in there.

A holy-crap instinct shot from the top of his head straight down to his tailbone. Yu Sheng shoved his chair back and sprinted into the living room without even having time to speak to Xuan Che.

Little Doll lay on the floor beside the TV cabinet, smoking gently. An exploded power strip sat nearby like a crime scene exhibit.

Yu Sheng went dead still.

Then he rushed over in a panic, face twisting. “You really went and chewed the power cord, damn it?!”

Little Doll’s face was black with soot, her hair standing on end. Even so, she stubbornly raised a hand and flipped him the middle finger.

While Yu Sheng was still staring, another Irene wriggled out from between the sofa and the coffee table. She glared up at him and shouted, “You’re the one chewing power cords! Your whole family chews power cords! I’m not stupid!”

Yu Sheng pointed at the smoking doll on the floor. “Then what’s that?”

“What’s that? Ask the outlet you bought from a five-yuan shop!” Irene snapped, furious. “I was watching TV and it suddenly started smoking. I rushed over to yank the plug out, and the moment I grabbed the cord—bang! I didn’t even have time to dodge before I went numb!”

Yu Sheng’s complaints shriveled into instant embarrassment.

He remembered buying a cheap outlet for the living room. He also remembered Irene complaining about it the day before yesterday, telling him to replace it soon.

And he’d forgotten.

With a guilty wince, he scooped up the smoking doll, grabbed a tissue, and wiped the soot from her face. He was just about to say something to ease the awkwardness when the doll in his arms shifted and lifted a hand to stop him.

“Wait.”

Yu Sheng blinked. “What is it?”

Irene—Pro Max, smoky black-and-gold limited edition, 66.6 centimeters—wore a weird expression. Probably. She was so blackened it was hard to tell. She flexed her wrist, hopped down from Yu Sheng’s arms, and looked down at herself.

“…I’m charged.”

Yu Sheng stared. “…What?!”