Chapter 57: First-Rate Culinary Skills

“How could you two let Young Master Xiao cook for himself?” she reproached with some exasperation.

However, the Hao brothers could only shake their heads helplessly.
“City Lord, we tried to stop him, but Master Xiao insisted on cooking himself. There was nothing we could do.”

“Uh!”
Judging by their expressions, it was clear they weren’t lying.
Jin Buhuan walked into the Fortune Hall, suspicion written on his face.

Almost at once, an intoxicating aroma wafted toward him, making his body tremble despite himself.
Though Jin Buhuan was used to the finest delicacies every day, he couldn’t help but swallow hard, uncontrollably.

“What is this heavenly scent?” he muttered in disbelief.

He ventured further inside, and with every step, the aroma intensified.
He had already swallowed several times, feeling embarrassed by his own inability to resist.
But it was simply too fragrant.

At that moment, Xiao Yang was ladling out soup.
The mouthwatering aroma emanated from the pot before him.

Gulp.
Jin Buhuan stared eagerly at the rich broth, unable to suppress another swallow.
But he soon regained his composure, his face flushing with shame.

He, the dignified City Lord of North Desert City, was salivating over another man’s soup!
Utterly disgraceful!
He could hardly bear to linger any longer.

“Young Master Xiao, do you have any free time later?” he asked, trying to mask his embarrassment.

“What is it?”
Xiao Yang finally looked up at him.

“The Ten Thousand Treasures House is holding an auction later. I’d like to invite you to attend with me.”
Even as he spoke, Jin Buhuan couldn’t help but swallow again. The fragrance was simply overwhelming.

“I have time,” Xiao Yang nodded slightly. At the moment, he was nothing but idle.
Training fighting cocks? That would take less than five minutes to complete.

“Then I’ll send someone to escort you shortly,” Jin Buhuan said, delighted at this chance to deepen their acquaintance.
If he could forge a rapport with Xiao Yang, then after the Ten Nations Tournament, his own reputation would surely soar.

“No need. I’ll go myself,” Xiao Yang refused directly.

“I’m used to keeping a low profile and don’t care for ostentatious outings.”

Hearing this, Jin Buhuan nodded repeatedly.
“As you wish, Young Master Xiao.”

Since Xiao Yang said nothing more, Jin Buhuan broke the silence again.
“Then, Young Master Xiao, I’ll take my leave—there are matters I must attend to.”

The aroma was simply too much to bear; if he didn’t leave now, he felt he might lose his mind.

“Business first, then. I won’t see you out,” Xiao Yang replied, not even glancing his way, making Jin Buhuan wonder if he was truly the City Lord here.

Gulp.
Just before departing, Jin Buhuan couldn’t help but steal another glance at the rich soup.

After a moment’s hesitation, he asked,
“Young Master Xiao, may I ask what kind of soup this is?”

Xiao Yang answered without much thought,
“Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.”

Hearing the name, Jin Buhuan lowered his head and muttered softly,
“Buddha Jumps Over the Wall—so delicious even a Buddha would leap over a wall to taste it. What a fine name.”

Now that he knew the dish, he resolved to have his own chef prepare it as soon as possible.

“Young Master Xiao, I’ll see you later then.”

“Very well.”

Jin Buhuan hurried away.
Once outside the Fortune Hall, he instinctively wiped his mouth, worried there might be a trace of drool at the corner.

If so, his image as City Lord would be utterly ruined.

“Thank goodness, I didn’t drool,” he thought with relief, catching sight of his four sons and motioning for them to come along.

Crash!
Zhang Long smashed his teacup to pieces, leaping up in a fury.

“How much?”

“Hundred thousand!”

“Those lunatics! Fifty thousand for a useless wretch was outrageous enough, and now they’re demanding a hundred thousand? Do they take me for a fool?”
He panted heavily, his anger barely contained.

He had planned to spend only ten or twenty thousand to eliminate Xiao Yang.
But the first time they’d asked for fifty thousand, and Zhang Long had gritted his teeth and accepted.

Yet a whole day had passed with no good news—only a demand for even more money!

“Assassins, they call themselves! They can’t even handle a useless wretch!”
A cold gleam flashed in Zhang Long’s eyes.
He would never forgive Xiao Yang for beating his brother twice.

“Tell them—the hundred thousand is theirs. I just want to hear of that wretch’s death today.”

“Understood, Senior Brother Zhang,” replied the disciple of the Giant Spirit Sect, hurrying out the door.

“Sword Spirit Peak! Before long, it will belong to me, Zhang Long,” he muttered, his killing intent flaring and then quickly suppressed.

“Senior Brother Zhang, the Beidou Royal Family has sent an invitation for you to participate in the Ten Nations Tournament next year!”
A disciple rushed in, speaking respectfully.

Zhang Long’s eyes immediately lit up at the news.

The Ten Nations Tournament—
It surpassed all competitions in the Beidou Kingdom.
To shine there was the dream of countless geniuses.

A good result would mean not only becoming a royal guest, but also access to countless precious resources.

“With enough resources, attaining a lordly title—or even kingship—is no longer a dream.”

Everyone assumed Zhang Long’s ambition was to become Sect Leader of the Giant Spirit Sect.

But in Zhang Long’s eyes,
that position was a joke.
No matter how powerful a force within the kingdom, it could never surpass the royal family.

He aspired to become a true king among the royals—an invincible lord who could carve out his own domain.

“Where are they? Take me to them at once,” Zhang Long said, a trace of eagerness breaking through his composure.

This would be his first step.
With a high enough rank at the Ten Nations Tournament, his future would be limitless.

“They’re speaking with the Grand Elder.”

At this, Zhang Long hurried over without delay.

In the front courtyard,
two elders were sharing drinks.

One was Gongsun Miao, Grand Elder of the Giant Spirit Sect.
The other, with a flowing mane of white hair and a commanding presence, was clearly a man of high rank.

“Brother Jin, it’s been thirty years since we last met.”

“Yes, the last time was when we participated in the Ten Nations Tournament together,” Jin Bulang replied, a note of nostalgia in his voice.

Who would have imagined that thirty years ago, they were both contestants representing the Beidou Kingdom?

Yet that year, they’d encountered a monster—
A single individual who wiped out their entire Beidou team.

“Thirty years...”
Gongsun Miao gazed at Jin Bulang’s snow-white hair, knowing well its origin.

To win a single match, Jin Bulang had burned his own life force.
Though only just past fifty, and a Marquis by rank, his hair was already as white as snow.

“Let’s not speak of the past,” Jin Bulang said with a gentle smile, clearly unwilling to revisit old wounds.

“I hear you’ve taken on a gifted disciple, old friend. Let me have a look at him.”

At this, Gongsun Miao’s features relaxed; just thinking of his disciple filled him with pride.

Not yet twenty, already at the peak of Martial Mastery—one step from breaking through to Marquis.

Such talent was a rarity, even among the Ten Kingdoms—one in a hundred years, with a slim hope of becoming a Martial King.

“Master!”
At that moment, Zhang Long arrived, clad in black robes and exuding boundless confidence.

“Come, Long’er, greet your Uncle Jin,” Gongsun Miao called, eyes shining.

From the moment Zhang Long entered, he’d sensed the extraordinary presence of Jin Bulang.
At his master’s words, he didn’t dare delay even a moment and bowed deeply.

“Uncle Jin!”

A glint of gold flashed in Jin Bulang’s eyes.
In his youth, he too had been a prodigy, and he could sense the unique aura about Zhang Long—a temperament born only in those who had long stood over their peers.