I love drama. It’s great. Life’s boring if there’s no drama to be had! As long as the drama doesn’t involve me, of course. That’d be bad. I can’t enjoy a good meal if I’m in the middle of a drama, but I can enjoy one if I’m just a spectator.
“Lucia? What are you doing?” Softie was sitting on my couch, munching on the cookie I gave her. It seems like she’s fallen victim to the charm of pastries. As for what I’m doing….
“I’m setting up the grill.” Naturally, barbequed meat and acorn ale are necessary to watch a war break out in comfort! What’s acorn ale? It’s exactly what it sounds like. And it tastes like acorn stew but bitterer but better too. On my way back to the cultural exchange from the impurity-cleansing pool, I passed by those fields of animals again. And once I passed by the field, there were no more animals left. I wonder why. Hmm. Maybe if the sect offered more than one grain of rice per month to their chosens, the animals wouldn’t have disappeared. That’s just my hunch. Anyways, what was I grilling? These unique beasts that I picked up from somewhere! A single one of these aurochs, as Softie called them, seems like it can fully fill me up for a whole meal. They look like skinny cows, which is why I’m going to barbeque them.
“Do you really intend on killing these Great Poison Sect members today if they don’t cripple their cultivation?” That person wearing white reminded me of that selfless senior who exploded for my tribulation. I wonder why. Mm, must be my imagination. Anyway, a quick cut to this aurochs’ belly and a few tugs to its organs and … it’s ready! Onto the grill it goes.
“My words have more weight than gold! I mean everything I say!” The sect leader’s really overbearing. But he’s a really good guy. He supported me right away! I just don’t understand why he abuses Softie so much if he’s so partial to chosen. After all, Softie lives in a hole in the ground and is fed rice and water without any condiments. Maybe there’s a reason he’s willing to cripple a bunch of people for the chosens but not feed the chosens properly. Is food that expensive here? I wouldn’t know since Grandpa Bear paid for my restaurant bill. But there were so many aurochsen around; that can’t be it. Not to mention that wouldn’t explain the horrible living conditions. “The question is, do you dare declare war for the sake of a single sect!?”
Whew, I love this grill. Ilya made it for me. It has a seventh-circle heating spell that cooks meat evenly even if only a single part of the meat is touching the top. Ilya tried to explain how it worked to me, but it was too complicated and unimportant. After all, the most important thing was that it did its job. And if it breaks, Ilya can fix it for me, so it’s not like I need to know. Mm, let’s add some salt and pepper. One can never go wrong with salt and pepper when cooking cow-like creatures. I bet acorn paste with garlic would be great on it too.
“Before I answer that question, may I ask what your chosen is doing?”
Hmm? What the chosen was doing? Softie was eating a cookie will sitting down, nothing special about that. Anyways, let’s add the stuffing to the aurochs. A benefit of reaching the legendary realm is that all my wounds recover really fast, so I can touch this really hot piece of meat directly and not care about getting burned since it’ll heal in a few seconds. Is the drama about to start? The food’s about ready.
“Chosen Lucia. What are you doing?”
I looked around the grill. The sect leader was staring at me. Couldn’t he tell? “Making a light snack.”
The sect leader stared even harder. “Is that one of the sect’s battle mounts…?”
“…No.” There’s no way cows are battle mounts, right? They were only a little bit stronger than Mrs. Wuffletush, which meant they still died in one hit. And their beast cores didn’t even improve anything of mine, which means they’re weaker than dragons. Right. Even Snow had a dragon as a battle mount and the plant possessing him was from a pocket realm like mine. There’s no way my snack is combat worthy in any way, shape, or form.
“S-Sister Lucia killed all the aurochsen.” Softie swallowed the last bits of her cookie and nodded at her grandfather. “She, um, said they’d sate her hunger for at least a year.”
“She killed all hundred thousand aurochsen?” The sect leader was looking a bit scary…. And my tail was getting uncomfortably fluffier. Is it going to stiffen? I’ll grab onto Softie to make sure I have a hostage. Just in case. “What do you mean sate your hunger for a year?”
I didn’t say they’d sate my hunger for a year. “At least a year.” I’m sure it was more, but the math to figure out how much more was too annoying to figure out, so I didn’t bother. Who has time to sit down and crunch numbers during casual conversations? Besides, I was too busy killing the aurochsen to think. Sheesh.
“Didn’t Little Moon offer you immortal rice?”
“Ah, I’m a foxkin, yeah? Yup. Totally a foxkin. Foxes don’t eat rice, sorry.” Since I’m pretending to be a foxkin, I have to fully commit to that role. Mhm. And this sect leader’s already let me get away with touching his granddaughter in front of him, so I didn’t think he’d be so mad about a few cows. I knew Softie was being abused. How can this man care more about cows than his granddaughter? I’m not a hero, but seeing Softie being so blatantly bullied leaves a foul taste in my mouth. At the very least, I have to show her the good parts of the world like food and slaughter and s**. …Maybe not s**. I’m not sharing Durandal. But food and slaughter are necessities in life! Without food, people die. Without slaughter…, where else are you supposed to get p****es to sell for money?
“Is now really the time to eat…? There’s going to be a battle unless the Great Poison Sect members choose to cripple themselves.”
No, it’s not the time to eat right now. I have to wait for the fighting to start so I can watch! Then it’ll be the right time to eat.
“Hmm? Durandal? What’s up?”
Durandal cleared his throat and leaned closer. His breath tickled my ears. “Since there’s bound to be a fight breaking out, can you drag those people wearing the silver robes into it? It seems like they’re cultivators who live and die by the sword.”
What!? What kind of person does Durandal think I am? I can’t just implicate people for no reason! Those people in silver robes look so righteous and dependable. But one of them’s looking at me funny. Right. That’s a good enough reason to implicate someone.