Chapter Fifty-Four: Dissecting the Monster

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The old street at three in the morning was deserted, not a single shadow in sight. When Li Can arrived, the small car that had sped through was long gone, and there was no sign of any injured person on the road.

“Perhaps it crashed into a privately owned vehicle parked by the roadside,” he mused.

Such things happened often in narrow streets; nothing to be surprised about. Tomorrow, some car owner would surely regret saving a few hundred yuan by not paying for proper parking.

He returned to his restaurant and pulled down the rolling shutter. Li Can’s gaze settled on the large bundle of “ingredients” in the front hall.

The tentacle creature was three times the size of “Liu Huadong,” far too big for the kitchen table. He untied the rope securing the colorful cloth; as soon as it loosened, the tentacles spilled out.

“One, two, three, four, five…” Li Can counted carefully. Apart from the two thickest tentacles, the other twenty-two were relatively small.

“Maybe after the creature’s death, all its tentacles contracted.”

The two thickest tentacles had originally measured over two meters long, as thick as a thigh, and could extend to more than five meters when attacking. Now, they were only about a meter, roughly the thickness of a normal adult’s arm.

The other twenty-two tentacles were generally only fifty to sixty centimeters each.

Li Can took the butcher’s knife and chopped off one tentacle. The cross-section was smooth as a mirror, revealing a slender black bone at the center.

He squeezed the bone with his right hand—it was very soft, elastic, reminiscent of beef tendon.

“It seems this bone is what controls the tentacle. Only with such properties can it stretch and contract freely.”

He carried the tentacle to the kitchen, washed it clean in the sink, then blotted off the moisture with kitchen paper.

Examining the cross-section, he found the tentacle had four layers: skin, membrane, flesh, and black cartilage.

The structure wasn’t complex—certainly less so than “Liu Huadong.” Of course, this was only the tentacle; the torso of the creature remained a mystery.

The skin was black, just like the bone. Its texture was fine, without wrinkles, smooth to the touch, even a bit slippery.

Li Can tried scraping it with the knife’s tip and extracted a lot of clear mucus.

These substances were hidden within the skin, making them troublesome to clean. However, Li Can intended to discard the skin entirely, as it was covered in countless sharp spikes, making it look like a studded leather jacket at first glance.

“This stuff could probably fetch a high price at a garment factory, but its origins are too strange to be sold openly.”

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Li Can sighed slightly, then made a long incision along the tentacle with the butcher’s knife, separating the skin along the seam between it and the membrane.

The spikes on the skin were very sharp; they might have some use if cleaned out individually, but there were far too many, and Li Can couldn’t be bothered—he still had plenty of scales at hand.

“These spikes and scales must belong to the ‘alien armor’—the hardest or most distinctive tissue on a monster’s body.”

He tossed the skin aside and scraped off the membrane, collecting about a small bowl’s worth.

This membrane was slightly thicker than the one found in “Liu Huadong,” pale yellow in color. When squeezed gently, matching oils seeped out, free of impurities.

It gave off a faint, pleasant fragrance—not at all unpleasant.

“Maybe I can collect these membranes and render them into oil, like making lard. The results should be pretty good.”

Li Can considered it carefully and found the idea feasible.

After removing both skin and membrane, the tentacle shrank further. Including the central black bone, now about the thickness of chopsticks, the diameter was roughly six centimeters, tapering towards the tip.

What pleased Li Can most was that the flesh was not blackish-brown, but a translucent gel, free of any impurities, like jelly—elastic and springy.

He sliced off a small piece with the butcher’s knife, rinsed it in water, and popped it into his mouth.

Chew, chew—

“It’s very resilient; if you chew forcefully, it springs back. It’s sweet and tender—wait…”

Li Can’s eyes widened abruptly as the translucent flesh, which wouldn’t break down, suddenly began to dissolve, rapidly and inexplicably.

Cool liquid filled his mouth, the sweetness everywhere.

With a thoughtful look, he quickly heated a pot and tossed in a slice. The translucent flesh liquefied and vaporized before his eyes, leaving no trace.

“Just as expected—this stuff can’t withstand high temperatures. The higher the heat, the faster it changes. It’s perfect for sashimi.”

The notion barely surfaced before he shook his head.

Sashimi was indeed a great method, but its flaw was that it exposed the ingredient completely to the diner.

If he tried to conceal the ingredient, it would make the sashimi dish feel odd and out of place.

More importantly, sashimi celebrated the raw flavor of the ingredient, but Li Can found the tentacle meat too bland—eating too much would bore the palate, no matter how many sauces were prepared.

“Forget it, I’ll think again.”

He sliced open the tentacle meat, exposing the black cartilage inside. A gentle twist separated bone from flesh with ease.

The black cartilage was nearly forty centimeters long, and there were plenty more yet to be processed—a considerable quantity. As usual, he planned to use it for soup.

The only difference was that these bones would yield a pure black broth. He’d have to find a way to enrich its color and stimulate appetite.

Gastronomy was a deep art, encompassing not only flavor, but also plating, color coordination, knife skills, processing steps, and so much more—each crucial in its own way.

With his first experience dissecting a tentacle, Li Can handled the rest with ease. In just twenty minutes, all that remained of the tentacle monster in the front hall was half a shattered head and a bare torso.

Apart from its two sturdy thighs, the body was shriveled—no wonder the so-called “dark core” grew in the head, as the body simply couldn’t hold it.

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Li Can chopped off the head and tossed it onto the pile of discarded skins, saving it for burning later.

He was about to start dissecting the thighs when he suddenly heard something scratching at the rolling shutter.

The sound was faint, but unmistakable.

Li Can’s brow furrowed. He gripped the butcher’s knife and approached the shutter, asking coldly, “Who’s there?”

No answer.

Sss, sss—

The scratching grew urgent, and faintly, he thought he heard a low, mournful whine.

Li Can tightened his grip, ready to summon the white flame at any moment, then abruptly yanked the shutter up.

Clatter—

The night breeze swept in; there was no one outside.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a trail of crimson blood on the sidewalk, stretching from the curb all the way to the restaurant’s door.

Looking down,

There lay a wild cat, its fur stained red with blood.

Blood dripped from its mouth and nose; it raised a paw toward Li Can, then slowly let it fall, its pupils dilating—it had died.

“Could that crash earlier have hit this cat? That driver is truly heartless—not even a hint of rescue.”

Li Can shook his head, cradled the wild cat’s body, and prepared to bury it in the wasteland behind the restaurant.

Since the cat had sought him out in its final moments, it must have been conscious, seeking help—whether drawn by the light leaking through the shutter’s gap or guided by fate.

“Ah…”

Li Can hadn’t finished sighing when his left hand sensed something, and his eyes widened in shock.

The cat… was pregnant…

And there was movement inside its belly!

The string hidden deep in Li Can’s heart, one he dared not touch, was suddenly plucked—

A single tear slid from the corner of his eye.

(To be continued…)