The man looked at the bowl of noodles before him but didn't pick up his chopsticks. In a slow, measured tone, he asked, "How much of your grandfather's skill did you inherit?"
Le Zhengling was taken aback by the question; he'd never expected someone to ask that. He quickly replied, "About seventy or eighty percent, I'd say."
Though that's what he said, he felt he was being modest. In his own estimation, he had mastered over ninety percent of his grandfather's abilities.
Despite being on his second life, he felt he was much smarter this time around. He could learn things with ease. Even for techniques his grandfather hadn't explicitly taught him, he had picked up most of them after years of assisting him.
And after eating his grandfather's cooking for so many years, he had gradually figured out the last two or three tenths on his own.
Watching the man finally pick up his chopsticks, lift a strand of noodles, and slurp it into his mouth to chew, Le Zhengling felt the tension in his chest finally ease.
As long as he eats it, it's fine. The saying goes, "a man's mouth is softened by what he eats, his hands are shortened by what he takes." Once he ate it, there would be room for negotiation.
But just as he was thinking this, the man put down his chopsticks after only a single bite. In a flat tone, he said, "This isn't it!"
Hearing those words, the hair on Le Zhengling's body stood on end.
"It's delicious, but this isn't what I want to eat!"
The man placed the bowl in front of the Borzoi. Then, to Le Zhengling's horror, the hound devoured the entire thing—noodles, bowl, and all.
In that instant, he was certain he had encountered something truly terrifying.
The man stood up, looking down at Le Zhengling with an icy gaze. "How disappointing," he said coldly.
His legs weak with fear, Le Zhengling leaned against the stove, trembling.
Having finished the noodles, the giant hound stretched its powerful body and stared at Le Zhengling with ill intent. Saliva dripped from its mouth as if to say the noodles were just an appetizer; it was now ready for the main course.
Like a predator toying with its prey, the Borzoi slowly advanced into the kitchen, a menacing growl rumbling in its throat. When it was three meters away, it lunged, opening its maw to reveal a mouthful of sharp teeth.
Faced with this, Le Zhengling surprisingly calmed down. This situation was far beyond his ability to handle. He knew himself well enough to understand that his small, young body was no match for it.
His life flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern. But his current life was so short that the playback ended quickly. From those memories, he noticed something unusual about his grandfather, but before he could dwell on it, his memories from his past life—less than twenty-five years' worth—resurfaced. Those dusty fragments shone brightly once more, and in an instant, he recognized who this man was.
He found it utterly absurd. To think he had been reincarnated into such an extraordinary world, yet he had remained completely oblivious for thirteen years. If he hadn't been so indifferent to everything around him, would he have discovered the world's strangeness sooner? Would he have had a different ending?
Just as he was about to die under the Borzoi's fangs, the man pressed his stomach again, his brow furrowing in annoyance. The giant hound froze as if on command, its jaws less than three centimeters from Le Zhengling's neck.
The foul, beastly stench almost made him vomit.
"I'll give you one more chance," the man said, sitting back down. "If you fail, I trust you are prepared for the consequences."
Hearing this, Le Zhengling felt as if he had been granted a pardon. His back drenched in sweat, he slumped against the stove and sat on the floor, taking deep breaths to calm himself. But he was trembling uncontrollably, and tears streamed down his face. If there were a mirror, he would surely mock his own pathetic, blubbering appearance.
"When you're done crying, get to work. Neither of us has much time," the man said, his cold gaze fixed on Le Zhengling's tear-streaked face. "I was seen on my way here. Although I am no longer a magus, the principle of seclusion must still be observed. I have already dealt with the witness. If you don't want to die, make something that satisfies me. In that case, I might just spare your life."
He paused, a flicker of memory in his eyes. "After all, your grandfather and I have some history. If you prove yourself useful, I will not kill you."
Hearing this, Le Zhengling mustered the courage to stand up. "What kind of noodles did my grandfather make for you back then?"
The man thought for a moment. "It was a dish where a single noodle filled the entire bowl. There were no other ingredients, just that one noodle. But after eating it, I felt a sense of peace I had never experienced before."
Le Zhengling's mind went blank. That familiar description... could it be from a story he had made up and told his grandfather when he was six or seven?
The thought made his stomach churn. He looked cautiously at the man whose identity he now knew, an existence that was truly not to be trifled with. He asked tentatively, "Was that bowl of noodles called... 'Soul-Calming Noodles'?"
"Yes, that's the name." Although he had prepared himself for it, hearing the man's confirmation still felt unbelievable to Le Zhengling. Could his grandfather have actually created that dish based on his fabricated story? It was completely unscientific!
But then he remembered the identity of the person before him and figured that science in this world was probably dead anyway. Having accepted the true nature of this world, he reluctantly accepted the fact that his grandfather had indeed made Soul-Calming Noodles.
"How much time do I have?" Taking a deep breath, Le Zhengling pressed a hand against his racing heart and tried to regulate his breathing.
"I'll give you another hour and a half. If you can't make it by then, you die." The man glanced at the old grandfather clock on the wall and delivered his final, merciless verdict.
Le Zhengling looked up at the clock. It was just past 10:30 PM, which meant midnight was the deadline.
"I need to prepare," he said. He knew his grandfather had a secret recipe book, one he had never bothered to read because he didn't think he needed it. But now, he had to. If the recipe for the Soul-Calming Noodles wasn't in there, he would have to improvise based on his memory.
"I don't care what you do. I must have those noodles within the time limit," the man's emotionless voice echoed in the shop.
Knowing time was short, Le Zhengling ignored him and rushed to the back of the shop. As he crossed the courtyard, he saw several crows perched on the wall, their blood-red eyes watching him. He couldn't help but shiver.
At the same time, he once again confirmed the man's identity—
The 10th of the Twenty-seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, the vampire who holds the Reality Marble, Lair of the Beast King, within him: Nrvnqsr Chaos!
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