Chapter 1812 - In the Depths of Clouds (2/2)

‘If even such a fearsome chicken listens to him, there must be something extraordinary about him!’

Dugu stood up. However, before he could stand up straight, Eighty leaped at him again, spread its claws, and kicked him in the face. Once again, he was knocked flying away and fell to the snow.

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He was fuming now. As the number one Sword God of the Empire, how could he be kicked in the face by a chicken? He would rather die in battle than being defeated by a chicken!

“Cluck!”

The snow exploded and danced in the air as Dugu Wushuang was kicked again and thrown into the distance.

…

Bu Fang did not return so quickly from his trip. He went to the top of the mountain and spent the night there. Then, with the hoe, he dug up a jar of wine under a boulder.

“It’s been brewing for three years, and it’s finally ready…”

Bu Fang smiled. After being buried on top of the mountain for three years, baptized by the essence of heaven and earth as well as seasoned by the aura of the mountain, the wine was absolutely extraordinary. He lifted the lid slightly, and a strong fragrance of wine immediately gushed out. He took a deep breath, intoxicated.

At this moment, clouds rolled over and formed a sea of clouds just under the mountain peak, while wisps of purple energy seemed to come from the east and merged with the wine. Bu Fang’s eyes narrowed. Although he only used the most common ingredients, he still managed to make such an amazing wine.

Snowflakes fell from the sky. Sitting cross-legged on the top of the mountain, Bu Fang took out a cup and filled it with wine. The liquid was blue like the color of the sky. He took a sip. The rich aroma of wine immediately rushed through his body. He shuddered a little.

The wine was the essence of his so many years of accumulation. Perhaps it did not carry too strong emotions, but it brought clarity to his eyes. After drinking it, he watched as the sea of clouds churned before him with a mind as calm as still water.

How should he walk his road to become a God of Cooking? Should he really throw away all his emotions and desires like Soul God and take the ruthless path like the Great Path of the Primitive Universe? But could ruthless cuisine really bring him to the top?

Or, as he had previously thought, he only needed to gather the best ingredients in the world and cook the most delicious dishes to become a God of Cooking? Perhaps neither was right. Perhaps the real God of Cooking was not what he had imagined.

Bu Fang sipped his wine in silence and watched the clouds roll in.

…

The next day, Bu Fang descended the mountain. It was not easy to get down through the sea of clouds, but he used his bamboo stick to probe the way and found his path home effortlessly. When he returned to the hut, however, he was slightly taken aback.

In the distance, a figure knelt in the snow. White snowflakes had covered him, as if wrapping him into a snowman. Eighty was walking leisurely around the yard with its head held high. Upon sensing Bu Fang’s return, it raced toward him, crowed, and leaped.

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Bu Fang raised his hand, grabbed Eighty’s neck, and threw it over Whitey’s head. Looking at Dugu Wushuang who was on his knees, he said, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

Wushuang stared at Eighty with a resentful look on his face, which was covered with chicken footprints. “Senior, I was wrong,” he said, kowtowing to Bu Fang.

“You should leave here…” Bu Fang shook his head and said faintly. He stepped into the hut, put down his things, and went out into the yard. He began to wash the vegetables and cook. His movements were flowing, and soon, a rich fragrance of food lingered in the air.

Wushuang felt a strong sense of hunger as he sniffed the fragrance. ‘Why is it so fragrant?! Isn’t that just a plate of simple stir-fried vegetables?’ As the number one Sword God of the Empire, he had tasted all the delicacies in the world. However, he had never smelled anything so delicious.

Bu Fang ignored him. He brought the cooked dish to the table and ate it while drinking. When he had finished, he frowned and sighed. Putting down his cup, he muttered to himself, “I haven’t had any fragrant rice in a long time… I quite miss the taste now.”

After clearing the plate, Bu Fang went into the hut, put on his bamboo hat, and picked up the basket full of fat fish. “I should go down the mountain to exchange some rice with the villagers.”

Dugu’s face went black when he saw Bu Fang leaving the hut again. ‘Can this Immortal Master have the heart to see me kneeling here all the time?’ Eighty kept walking back and forth in front of him, making him angry and afraid.

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Grabbing the bamboo stick, Bu Fang began to walk down the mountain. Du Gu’s eyes lit up at the sight. ‘Oh? Immortal Master is going down the mountain?’ At the thought of that, he stood up, patted his somewhat numb knees, and with the sword in his hand, hurried after Bu Fang. He followed at a distance, not daring to disturb him.

Bu Fang followed the path he remembered as he headed for the village. He had not been there for years and wondered if the villagers could still remember him. Although he had lost his cultivation base, he could still sense that Dugu Wushuang was following him. But he did not care. The guy could follow all he wanted.

He walked along the muddy path. Soon, the silhouette of the village appeared ahead.

When Wushuang saw where Bu Fang was heading, his expression became a little odd. He wanted to say something, but after thinking about it, he did not open his mouth.

Bu Fang arrived in the village. A cold atmosphere greeted him and made his brows furrow. The village was a mess and in a state of disrepair. The farm tools were all covered with snow, and some of the houses had collapsed. There was no one in the village as if it was deserted.

“Immortal Master… I don’t know what your relationship is with this village, but it was slaughtered three years ago. Of the three hundred villagers, none survived…” Dugu said, sighing.