Chapter 1811 - Steamed Fish with Mushrooms (1/2)

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation  Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Lord Bird left.

Bu Fang’s life returned to normal. He got up at sunrise, worked until sunset every day, cooked with natural ingredients, and enjoyed the delicious food brought by nature.

Whitey’s mechanical eyes were dim, and it seemed to become much clumsier. Eighty would occasionally climb on its head and cluck or occasionally chase insects in the yard. It was a very extraordinary Eight Treasures Chicken, yet it behaved like a wild chicken that lived in the mountains.

Bu Fang lived a very comfortable life. He enjoyed the unambitious life. When he was bored, he would study new dishes. It had been his only pleasure these days.

The world outside the mountains was in turmoil. The flames of war were almost all over the land, and the fierce battles had caused countless casualties. In contrast, the days in the mountains did not change much except for the seasons.

Bu Fang had not gone down the mountain for a long time, nor had he gone to the village to exchange rice. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, falling on the ground in front of the hut and covering the earth with a thick layer of white blanket.

Whitey sat in the yard, dazed. The accumulation of snow on its body made it look like a snowman. Eighty was running through the snow with a pinch of snow on its head. Clad in a thick cotton coat, Bu Fang exhaled a puff of white breath.

The fire danced in the stove as the water was boiling and steaming in the pot. Bu Fang took a teacup and sprinkled a few brown tea leaves in it. The tea was a specialty of the mountains, but the yield was very little. He had found it by accident.

He filled the cup with hot water, and the tea leaves immediately gave off a refreshing fragrance that lingered in the air. As the tea leaves swirled in the cup, the color of the water gradually changed from transparent to light green, which was very pleasant to look at.

Holding the teacup with both hands, Bu Fang sat on a chair and looked at the snow outside the hut. Days passed, and Bu Fang did not know how long he had been in the mountains.

He took a sip of tea. A warmth dispelled the cold in him. After sitting in the chair and watching the snow for a long time, he stood up, took the hoe, left the hut, and walked up the mountain. There were fewer ingredients in the mountains in winter, but he did not care. He let fate decide if he would find anything or not.

Whitey followed quietly behind him. The mountain was covered in snow in winter, so it was hard to find good ingredients in a vast expanse of snow.

Halfway up the mountain, Bu Fang saw a rabbit in the distance. He did not move but watched it quietly. The rabbit kept hopping and soon got to its burrow. Inside, a few cute little bunnies huddled together, turning their heads as their mother returned to them.

Bu Fang smiled. After giving them one more glance, he carried the hoe and trudged away. There were many other ingredients on the snowy mountain beside rabbits. Winter mushrooms were one of them. These tiny mushrooms grew on tree trunks and looked like flowers blooming in the snow.

Bu Fang happily picked the mushrooms and put them into the basket. Every winter, he would come to the mountain to pick mushrooms. They grew best at this time of year. After bringing them back, he would dry them in the sun and store them for later use.

Of course, dishes cooked with fresh mushrooms were also very delicious.

After picking the mushrooms, Bu Fang did not leave immediately. As he continued to walk up the mountain, he was followed by a wolf. It was obviously starving because it did not hesitate for long before pouncing on him. Unfortunately, Bu Fang was also a little hungry.

Even though Whitey had become clumsier, its slap kept the wolf from getting up again. Bu Fang happily tied up the beast and threw it into the basket. Since the basket was much heavier now, he let Whitey carry it.

The harvest was good, but Bu Fang did not intend to go back yet. Instead, he went to the pond in the mountain, which was covered with a thick layer of ice. Fish had the most fat during winter, so he certainly would not let go of such a delicacy.

He cut a hole in the ice, and in a short time, a few fat fish were thrown into the basket. Satisfied at last, Bu Fang left the pond, humming a little tune as he made his way back in the snow. Although he had been humming the same song for so many years, he was still not very good at it.

Bu Fang returned to the hut. The days in winter were always short—it got dark quickly and the temperature dropped further. He built a fire, cleaned the fish, and then gently patted the flesh.

From inside the hut, he took out his collection of dried mushrooms, which he had prepared in previous years. The dried mushrooms had a unique aroma. He placed them on top of the fish and steamed them together in the wok. A plume of white smoke rose into the sky.

…

The snow was crushed under many feet. In a dense forest, sharp rays of light and terrifying knife energy kept shooting in a certain direction. Countless trees were cut down, and snow was constantly shaking off the leaves.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the air as a figure was crawling painfully through the snow. He was clad in blood-stained armor, with disheveled hair and a pale face. A gash ran from his shoulder down his back and stopped at his waist. Blood was spilling out of it, melting the snow on the ground.

The badly wounded man looked back from time to time. There were men chasing after him. Suddenly, arrows flew toward him, their tips glinting coldly in the dark night. Soon, some of them struck the ground around him, sending the snow flying.

His pupils narrowed, then he sprang to his feet, his body spinning in midair. An arrow came whistling at him the next moment and glanced off his face before flying away.

“Dugu Wushuang! You can’t run away from us! Of the top ten swordsmen of the empire, you’re considered the best, but now you’re running away like a stray dog! Aren’t you ashamed?!”

A voice rang out. After that, many black-clothed assassins rushed out of the dense forest behind the man. They all exuded true energy as they ran at great speed through the snow.