Just as those sharp fangs were about to pierce Mi Milo's fair neck—whoosh!—an iron rod whistled through the air with considerable force and stabbed hard into the carrion rat's body!
Rip— The iron rod's pointed tip punched through the rat's coarse hide, pinning it firmly to the garbage mound.
"Huff… huff…" Lan Grace panted slightly. That throw had been an explosive burst of power, using up almost all of her meagre strength.
Fortunately, it was effective—she had saved Mi Milo's life at a critical moment.
Right then, she felt profoundly grateful for the strength she could still muster—thanks to the decent base fitness of this body.
After all, the original owner had been the descendant of generals in the Mecha Battle Corps—her basic physical metrics were certainly above average.
It was only that she had refused to do anything proper and had devoted herself to making trouble, wasting such good aptitude.
Not far away, having narrowly escaped death, Mi Milo sat down limply on the garbage, his face pale with fright.
Stiffly twisting his neck, he glanced back at the carrion rat that had been pierced through, blood gushing as it struggled and tried to burrow back into the trash to escape. On the spot, his goodwill towards Lan Grace shot through the roof!
From childhood to now, he had never lacked for anything—except friendship.
In just the month since he had come to Waste Star, Lan Grace had already saved him twice.
The first time had been when he was on the verge of starving; Lan Grace gave him a piece of bread she had scraped the mould off.
And this time, a life‑saving favour—hit him even harder! In an instant, he nearly decided to treat Lan Grace as his best friend from now on.
Lan Grace caught her breath and then walked over to the carrion rat, whose life signs had weakened from blood loss.
Carefully avoiding its fangs, she gripped one end of the iron rod and pulled it free.
Then she lifted the rat and smashed it hard against a few rocks to the side.
Splat— Blood sprayed along with brain matter.
The carrion rat's smashed head lolled to one side, its life signs fully gone.
This series of actions left Mi Milo gaping!
He truly had not expected such a seemingly delicate girl to be this ruthless.
Lan Grace's thinking was simple.
In circumstances where the future was uncertain and her life was in constant danger, who cared about "bloody or not"?
Besides, although carrion rats looked disgusting, in Lan Grace's eyes—looking past the surface to the essence—this one might be the first thing on Waste Star that could count as actual food.
Dangling the iron rod with the rat's corpse skewered on it, Lan Grace strode over to Mi Milo and hauled him up in one go.
"Move. The carrion rats have already caught the scent. Once the horde arrives, we won't be able to leave."
Mi Milo shuddered and hurried after Lan Grace.
Behind them, the natives and exiles who had been searching the garbage mountain for food also broke into a run, retreating the way they had come.
A few carrion rats had already appeared; more would soon sweep the remaining food from this garbage mountain clean.
…
Back at the settlement, it was comparatively much safer than on the garbage mountain.
Because there was an Alliance detachment stationed here to administer Waste Star, the dangerous creatures on Waste Star generally did not dare intrude.
As Lan Grace walked through the settlement with the iron rod skewering the carrion rat, she drew the attention of many natives and patrolling soldiers of the stationed battle group.
Plenty of people cast looks of disgust at the rat in her hand—and at Lan Grace, who was bringing such a revolting thing into the settlement.
Following behind her, Mi Milo also could not understand why she had brought it in.
He had asked along the way and received an answer that made his spine go cold.
Expression relaxed, Lan Grace had replied naturally, "To eat."
Even when they reached the door of the house they had been temporarily assigned after being exiled here, he still could not believe she truly meant to eat a carrion rat!
Lan Grace set the rat's corpse down in the open space in front of the door, then went into her room and brought out a few things.
Under the curious gazes of nearby soldiers and a few natives, she took a slightly worn fruit knife and eviscerated the carrion rat on the spot!
Her hands moved neatly; in no time she had the carcass cleaned. It was easy to guess what that meant, and onlookers among the natives immediately spoke up.
"Heavens! She can't seriously be planning to eat that filthy, disgusting carrion rat, can she?"
"Judging by her actions, that's exactly what she's going to do."
"I'd rather pick dirty scraps off the garbage mountain to eat. As for a carrion rat, there's no way I can bring myself to put that in my mouth…"
Listening to the murmurs, Lan Grace's face remained indifferent, and her heart was calm.
—For people of the Celestial Empire, what would we ever not dare eat? What can't be eaten?
Just then, a few soldiers from the garrison patrol stopped as they passed, quite interested in what Lan Grace was doing.
One of them, an older soldier who looked past forty, kindly offered a reminder.
"There've been people trying to fill up on carrion rat before, but the meat has an overpowering sour bitterness—truly inedible."
Lan Grace looked up at the veteran and then gently shook her head.
"It's all right. I have a way to keep it from being so sour and bitter."
Though Lan Grace had once been a rich young lady, she was not what people usually imagined a rich young lady to be.
Her parents were so busy with their careers that she might not see them a few times in a year, so they hardly supervised her at all.
She had an elder brother as well, and, as the heirship did not fall to her, Lan Grace had grown up "on her own," running wild.
She was adept at painting and music; one might call her multi‑talented.
Beyond those arts, her greatest hobby was food.
So, when other rich second‑generation kids went abroad to study at famous universities, she enrolled at an Eastern culinary school and studied diligently for three whole years.
In her view, to be a qualified foodie, you first needed skill in the kitchen—only then could you, in any circumstances, maximise your satisfaction of your appetites.
She had planned to live her whole life for her hobbies and pleasures. Who knew that after graduating from culinary school and enjoying only a few years of freewheeling days, she would suddenly transmigrate—and end up here.
To get rid of the sour bitterness in carrion rat, in fact, was not difficult. With her culinary skills, given the right seasonings, she could transform this meat from dross into delicacy.
Unfortunately, resources were limited on Waste Star. She lacked food as it was, never mind expensive seasonings used only in upper‑crust households.
Luckily, this past month on Waste Star, she had not been idle. In her daily garbage picking, while others focused on food, she also paid attention to other things.
For instance, a fruit knife. Some tools that could barely be used for cooking. Half a small bag of leftover salt. And, among the wild grasses growing rampant near the garbage mountain, a few plants that resembled facing‑sky chillies.
She had picked a whole string of these giant chillies, each about the size of a palm, and hung them on the wall by her door to sun‑dry.
On this scorching Waste Star, a single day was enough to dry them completely.
Then she rubbed the dried chillies into powder and stored it carefully.
And now, it had its use.