Chapter 256 - 21: The Kingdom Under the Fasting Order

The long, narrow staircase was like the maw of an Evil Dragon, devouring all who entered.

Descending the fang-like staircase and proceeding down the esophagus-like corridor, the visitor felt as though he was venturing deeper and deeper into the belly of some monster.

He, who had come here in search of fine food, had now become part of the meal himself—swallowed into the dragon’s stomach to become its sustenance.

Just as his sense of time and space, of past and present, began to blur, he smelled a fragrance.

It was the aroma of french fries.

Heat salad oil to 150 degrees. Peel potatoes and cut them into pinky-sized sticks. Soak them in milk overnight, then begin the first fry.

This first fry is for the potato’s body.

Let the fried potatoes cool. Then, raise the oil temperature to 190 degrees and fry them a second time.

This time, you fry its soul.

The freshly fried potatoes must not be placed on a plate. They can only be scooped out and quickly poured onto the table, and then you begin to eat.

Don’t be afraid of the heat, and don’t add any condiments. Just eat.

The potato’s Life Force is still there, but its soul has been transformed into a fry. The heat of the oil has given it a new form, making it crispy, delicious, and so good it could make you cry.

After the temperature drops, it’s time for ketchup.

Ketchup gives the french fry a second life. Gently dip the tip of a fry into the ketchup, put it in your mouth, and eat the whole thing.

Once the temperature drops even further, only then is it time for honey mustard.

A fry mixed with honey mustard is more like a bowl of congee—one bite fills your mouth with satisfaction.

Finally, it’s time for personal creativity.

You can add cheese, or you can add sour plum powder. As long as they’re warm, they’ll be delicious no matter what.

Thinking about how to make french fries, the visitor’s mouth began to water. His tongue, which hadn’t tasted good food in three months, started to work, making him hungrier and hungrier, more and more desperate to eat those fries as soon as possible.

In a mad dash, he charged forward like a bull in heat, ramming open the door at the end of the hall and seeing the food he had dreamed of.

French fries.

Golden, fresh-from-the-fryer french fries.

They were piled up like a mountain, their golden gleam mixed with grains of salt, like a King’s treasure.

He stumbled toward the fries, reaching out for them with the reverence of a pilgrim on a sacred journey.

But just as he was about to touch the fries, he felt a sharp pain on his forehead. Something had slammed hard into his head, making it ring.

"See? I told you. These guys, ruled by their appetites, never see us."

Clutching his head, the visitor finally realized there were other people in the room.

They wore blue uniforms with pistols at their waists, and they held rubber-coated iron batons. It was one of those batons that had just been viciously struck against him.

They were none other than the Gourmet Police.

Wherever there is good food, they appear. They use it as bait to lure people in, then shatter their dreams just as they are about to touch the delectable prize.

Realizing he’d walked into a trap, the visitor lunged directly for the fries, grabbing a handful to shove into his mouth. But a sharp pain in his arm forced him to let go.

His hands were already red from the blows of the rubber batons. The back of one hand was split open, revealing a grisly wound.

Finding he couldn’t lift his hands, the visitor immediately opened his mouth and lunged, trying to bite the fries on the table.

The nearby Gourmet Police officer, seemingly surprised by his persistence, forgot to stop him for a moment and could only watch as he bit down on the fries.

But as his teeth sank in, a burst of laughter erupted around him.

The golden fries weren’t real. They were toys coated in paint.

The real fries were still in the fryer, bubbling away.

Plunging from heaven to Hell, the light in the visitor’s eyes finally vanished, leaving only a heart-wrenching wail.

"Curse you! I Curse all you bastards!"

"Hahaha! Take him away. Lock him up, then send him to Alaska to dig coal. He’s never coming back."

"I Curse you! You who defile food will all go to Hell!"

Someone kicked him in the corner of his mouth. The violent impact smashed his lip against his teeth, and the taste of rust immediately filled his mouth.

Even so, he stared hatefully at the people around him, as if memorizing their faces for future revenge.

But everyone knew he wouldn’t get the chance.

Those who committed food crimes were exiled to the mines in Alaska. Anyone who dared to resist was shot on the spot. There was no other way.

But just as the visitor was about to be taken away, something unexpected happened.

A door in the corner was pushed open, and two people walked out. One of them looked back and asked in confusion, "Strange, where did they go?"

The taller one coolly surveyed the people in the room and said in a voice as cold as ice, "Move..."

Their arrogant attitude and unfriendly tone angered the Gourmet Police.

"Yellow people, huh? Shouldn’t you be out west building railroads? What are you doing here?"

"Such blatant discrimination. My good sir, you should be the one locked up for a couple of days," the other young man said.

"Enough crap. You’re coming with me."

One of the Gourmet Police officers reached out to grab him, but his hand was caught.

Cuihua stared coldly at the officer, then suddenly flung his hand away and drew her weapon.

The Katsuo Stick!

Made from katsuobushi, the hardest food in the world, it served as a staff that was both food and incredibly hard.

More importantly, it was alive!

This was a living weapon capable of its own Growth!

Seeing Cuihua draw the Katsuo Stick, the Gourmet Police’s radar went off.

They keenly observed that her weapon was, in fact, food—a violation of the *Fasting Order*. This realization made them surround her with vicious smiles, ready to catch this "big fish."

However, Cuihua just waved it casually. The wind from the staff swept over them, and the slightest touch sent them flying, unconscious.

After effortlessly dealing with the surrounding Gourmet Police, Cuihua stepped forward and jabbed the stick into the leader’s chest. The powerful impact knocked the wind out of him, his vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground.

Having easily taken care of everyone, Cuihua let out a long breath and then noticed the visitor on the floor.

She extended a hand, pulled him up, and asked, "Are you..."

"I’m fine! Don’t talk yet, wait a second!"

Ignoring his still-bleeding wounds, the visitor rushed to the stove, used a pair of tongs to pick out a single fry, and carefully inspected its condition.

Seeing that the fry was cooked just right, he immediately said to the two newcomers, "Don’t just stand there! Hurry, help me get the rest of the fries out."

When he saw the two of them didn’t move, he stomped his foot in frustration. "Hurry up, or they won’t be good anymore!"

Duan Fei and Cuihua exchanged a look, but they had no choice but to step forward and help him scoop out the remaining fries.

The visitor swept the fake fries onto the floor, gave the table a quick wipe with his sleeve, and then immediately had the two of them pour all the real fries onto the tabletop. Only then did he sigh in relief.

Standing by the table, he quickly pulled out various condiments from underneath and gestured with his hand. "Alright, let’s eat."