Song Zi’an watched Yu He’s movements, his eyes dazzled by the display.
His master’s hands moved as fast as the wind. Every spiritual herb passed through his fingers, its medicinal properties refined to their purest state by heart-fire before being precisely tossed into various bowls and dishes.
“Done peeling the garlic?” Yu He glanced at him. “If you’re finished, go check how the flat peaches in the cauldron are stewing.”
Song Zi’an hurried to the back of the kitchen and lifted the lid of the large cauldron.
A rich, heady scent of peaches rushed out to meet him.
Inside the cauldron, several shriveled old flat peaches had been stewed until they were soft and tender. The golden-yellow peach flesh quivered slightly in the broth, a layer of pale gold oil shimmering on the surface.
The broth was as thick as honey, bubbling and gurgling with a low boil.
“Master! The peaches are ready!” Song Zi’an shouted.
Yu He walked over, looked down at the peaches in the cauldron, and nodded.
“The timing is just right.”
He reached out, and a cluster of heart-fire ignited in his palm. The fire leaped into the cauldron, swirled through the broth, and then flew back to his palm, carrying a wisp of golden aura with it.
Yu He closed his eyes to sense it for a moment. When he opened them, a rare look of satisfaction appeared on his face.
“Alright, serve the food.”
Meanwhile, in the courtyard outside the Gathering Fortune Pavilion, over a dozen large tables had been set up.
The tables were covered with plain white cloths and set with the skull-patterned tableware of the Bone Temple. A wine cup sat before every seat, already filled with sophora wine. The fragrance of the wine, mixed with the sweet scent of sophora flowers, drifted through the courtyard.
The people of the City of the Wrongfully Dead knew that today was the day the Lord was hosting a banquet for the heroes. They had gathered spontaneously around the perimeter of the courtyard, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the festivities.
Children sat on their parents’ shoulders, chirping as they discussed which demon looked the most “pleasing.”
Wu Hai had specially changed into a brand-new monk’s robe today. The gray-white fabric was embroidered with bone patterns, and he had even polished his skull with a layer of oil, making it glisten under the lantern light.
As soon as he entered, he began looking around. Seeing that Chen Zhou had not yet arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and found a prominent seat to sit down.
“The Zen Master is in high spirits today,” Poison-Wing remarked sarcastically.
Poison-Wing followed behind him, still wearing his black feather cloak, his face practically screaming that he was not to be trifled with.
Wu Hai glanced at him. “As a direct descendant of the Ancestor, I must naturally pay attention to my appearance.”
Not long after, Duke Martial arrived. The scars on his face were flushed with a red glow. Shitou followed behind him, the Goat’s Blade hanging at his waist, walking with a vigorous, powerful stride.
Jing Hui arrived together with Duke Wu. As they walked, they were still discussing the reconstruction of the Tianchi Royal Capital. The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't even notice the bustle around them.
“The spiritual rhythm circulation mechanism of the Royal Capital needs to be redesigned. I’ve already found the old formation diagrams, but several key formation eyes were severely damaged during the great war back then,” Duke Wu said, stroking his beard.
Jing Hui nodded. “I’ve already calculated it. If we use Jianmu as the new formation hub, we can compensate for the damaged parts. In fact, it might even be more efficient than before.”
“Jianmu?” Duke Wu frowned in thought. “That is a solution, but will Jianmu’s roots be able to cover the entire Royal Capital—”
Before he could finish, he was interrupted by Duke Martial’s booming voice.
“You two old geezers! The Lord is hosting a banquet today. Who told you to discuss official business here?”
Duke Martial strode over and grabbed them both, dragging them to the table.
“Drink! Today, if you don’t finish three jars each, no one is leaving!”
Jing Hui and Duke Wu sighed helplessly, but they picked up their wine cups nonetheless.
While they were making a scene, Su Xue and Piao arrived.
Su Xue was still dressed in her emerald-green dress, carrying a medicine basket, looking gentle and soft.
Piao followed behind her. Her heterochromatic eyes—one black, one gold—were particularly striking under the lights. It was a bit eerie to look at, but those who knew her knew the child was simply eyeing the dishes on the table.
The Ugly Hag walked at the very back, leaning on her cane. Watching Piao’s back, her face was filled with a loving smile.
As soon as Piao sat down, she stared intently at the cold appetizers on the table.
Su Xue smiled and rubbed her head. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Wait until the Lord arrives before we eat.”
Piao nodded, but her eyes never left the plate of Blood Bodhi mixed with Green Heart Grass.
Next, Tuoba Feng arrived.
He was still carrying the stone coffin on his back. A small head poked out from inside. Xiaoyun was now a paper-man, and her eyes finally had some spirit in them as she gripped the edge of the coffin, curiously surveying her surroundings.
Behind Tuoba Feng, Lian wore a plain white dress and carried a small flower basket containing several freshly picked spiritual herbs.
“Brother Tuoba, sit here!” the Plague Rat greeted them warmly. Tuoba Feng nodded and sat down next to him, then gently placed the stone coffin behind him. Xiaoyun peeked over his shoulder, looking curiously at the wine cup on the table.
“Father, what is this?”
“Wine.”
“Is it good?”
“No.”
“Then why is everyone drinking it?”
Tuoba Feng went silent for a moment. “Because they are happy.”
Xiaoyun nodded, though she only half-understood.
Lian sat down quietly beside them, placed her flower basket at her feet, and began peeling grapes for Xiaoyun.
While they were talking, the sea race from the Eastern Region arrived.
Cang Yu had returned to his human form, wearing a water-blue robe. His face was handsome, and his hair draped over his shoulders, bringing a faint mist of water as he walked.
Cangming immediately began looking around the moment he arrived, as if searching for someone.
“Has the Dragon Ancestor not arrived yet?” he couldn't help but ask.
Cang Yu pulled him. “What’s the rush? Sit down.”
Cangming was pulled into his seat, while Cang Che’s eyes nearby kept darting through the crowd.
Although he had been assigned back to Tianchi Province, luckily there was Jianmu, allowing him to return at any time.
He knew the Dragon Ancestor didn't like him constantly paying respects, so he had grown smarter. When he teleported back, he didn't rush over to pay his respects but waited patiently, planning to find the right moment to offer a toast.
As everyone chatted, the courtyard suddenly fell silent for a brief moment.
Everyone’s gaze turned in the same direction.
Chen Zhou stepped down from the direction of the altar, treading upon thousands of bone hands as if lotuses were blooming with every step.
Everyone rose in unison to salute.
Chen Zhou waved his hand, signaling for them to sit.
“Today is a victory banquet. There is no need for such formality.”
He walked to the head of the table and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the faces of everyone present.
Cang Che was quietly shuffling toward him.
Duke Martial was already drinking, clinking his cup with Jing Hui. The Plague Rat was hunched over the table, fighting with Poison-Wing over a plate of cold appetizers.
Piao had already started eating, her cheeks bulging as Su Xue wiped her mouth beside her.
The Ugly Hag watched Piao with a beaming smile, a handkerchief in her hand.
Yu He emerged from Dingnai Hall, carrying a massive jade platter. On it were the sophora dishes he had meticulously prepared. Song Zi’an followed behind him, carrying a clay pot that emitted clouds of steam.
“The food is served,” Yu He said calmly, but everyone could hear the gravity in his voice.
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