The Ring: Sell Dung Beetles in Junction

Chapter 453 Recipe Start
In the dungeon of Ensis City, Patch was puzzled.

"No, I'm just trying to please him." Patch touched his head.

Patch glared at Greg, who was also imprisoned, and said, "Is there something wrong with your performance this time? Are you passing on false information?"

Greg opened his mouth, feeling a little aggrieved:
"That shouldn't be the case. The history I learned said that Laelana followed Messermo... and Miss Laelana was very nice to me."

"Then why are we all here?" Patch said.

Tanis held her face up: "You have to consider her feelings. It's not like she can say it in public. It's a girl's feelings, a girl's feelings."

"You are so hypocritical. You are so grown up." Patch said disdainfully, "You are more sensible, mature and charming."

Tanis smiled shyly and kicked Patch.

Leida and the others sat opposite Patch, the light casting shadows on their faces.

"Why do we have to go to jail together?" Leida said gloomily, the straw in the prison hung on her blonde hair, and her face was a little dirty, "Why do we work so hard for the mission, while they just take it as a trip."

"Probably... just traveling." Roger said.

After listening to what Tanis said, Patch leaned against the iron bars of the prison, with a piece of flesh squeezed out of the iron bars from his spider belly:

"In that case, we don't have to worry about safety issues. We will probably be released soon. I really miss the feeling of being in prison. It was the same before. There was a rat with dirty hands and feet in that prison."

Patch looked across the iron bars. There was also someone imprisoned in the cell opposite. Judging from his attire, he was a Messermo soldier.

"Are you also locked up for some bad deeds?" Patch chatted with the inmate opposite him.

"It's because I'm too clean." The Messemo soldier on the opposite side leaned against the iron fence and spoke lazily.

"Oh, what's the matter?" Patch became interested.

"I deserted the battle," the soldier said, "because I didn't want to hunt filth anymore."

Patch laughed: "You weren't executed for this?"

The soldier smiled as well. "Maybe it's because Lady Layna understands us. We are a bunch of abandoned guys, and we have to stick to the order from a thousand years ago to kill a bunch of weaklings who we don't even know why. What kind of mission is this... It's too far away, and it's really annoying."

The Messermo soldier pulled out a bottle of wine from under the weeds in the dungeon and took a sip:
"When we fought those horn warriors, it was really fucking exciting. That was an honorable fight. We were willing to kill the priests, because their moves were beastly. I don't know how many brothers died on the way to the charge. But those skinny guys who were as thin as chickens? Killing those people is really boring."

"Why do you still have wine?" Patch glared.

"We naturally have our own channels." The Messermo soldier took another sip. "Most people in the city are similar to me, except that they are more responsible. Someone has to complete the mission. But they don't mind giving me some wine to kill time."

"No wonder you all looked so stupid when we entered the city." Patch laughed, "You all look like little kids who can't find their mother's milk."

"Humph..." Soldier Messermo also laughed after hearing Patch's harsh words.

As the two were talking, there was a sudden noise and the sound of dense footsteps above their heads, as if a large number of troops were being mobilized.

"What's wrong?" Patch asked curiously.

"I don't know." Soldier Messermo replied.

The Messermo soldier extended his fist and knocked on the fence with a few clangs.

After a while, the prison guard came down, also a Messermo soldier.

"What's going on?" Soldier Messermo asked the guard.

"The Horned Ones are attacking the city," said the guard.

"There wasn't such a big commotion before." The Messermo soldier was surprised. "Is it bigger this time? How many people came?"

"On a."

========
A private residence in Barrett, Tower Town.

Second floor warehouse.

The key clicked and the wooden door was slowly pushed open.

Wuming walked into the dark room.

What comes into view are rows of shelves displaying bottles, cans, grains and fruits.

A frail old woman was sitting alone in a corner of the warehouse.

The old woman had horns growing all over her head, covering half of her face and even her eyes.

She was wearing a dirty and tattered dress with holes all over it. Through the holes, one could see her scarred body inside the clothes.

The old woman sat there with her head slightly lowered, her breathing even, and she had fallen into a deep sleep.

Wuming stood in front of the old woman, looked around, and saw a huge lion head placed on the altar next to her.

The lion’s head also has many ominous horns, which are very similar to the horned lion statues that can be seen everywhere in Tower Town.

Wuming picked up the lion's head and found that it was hollowed out. It was a helmet. The lion's mouth was still movable. He moved his lower jaw with his hands, and the lion's mouth opened and closed like a human's two rows of teeth, making a sound.

The sound woke the old woman up from her dream.

"Who?" the old woman asked, her voice old and angry.

"Hello." Wuming gently put down his helmet and spoke.

"Who are you?" The old woman gritted her teeth, "Another minion of Messermo?"

The old woman sneered, "Aren't you tired of it? Why are you still looking for me? Are you going to continue to abuse me? Unfortunately, no matter what you do, I will not beg for mercy. You can't kill me even if you come a few more times. The wrath of the beast will bring retribution sooner or later. Just wait for the disaster to come!"

The old woman was indeed very angry. Wuming looked at the top of the old woman's head and felt that the raging rage was about to burst out from her head.

"I'm not one of Messermo's men," Wuming said, "I'm just a businessman passing by."

"Oh? You're using this trick?" The old woman laughed. "Your companion has already used it. I won't be fooled. I won't give you any help. Don't expect to get any information from me."

The old woman's sneer turned into an angry rebuke:

"I won't reveal any of the resistance plans or hiding places of the people from all corners. Torture me as much as you want!"

Wuming asked, "Do you know the recipe for scorpion soup?"

The old woman was stunned for a moment: "What?"

“That black soup, I want to know how to make it.”

The old woman seemed to be lost in thought, with a puzzled look on her aged face.

She was silent for a moment, and finally figured it out: "I understand, you want to steal the tower's food and use it to get information from others? Humph, as long as the enemy wants it, I won't give it to you."

Wuming stopped talking and scratched the horn on his head.

Lightning burst out from her body, and the storm swept through the small storehouse, almost tearing the old woman apart.

A vengeful spirit emerged from above the old woman's head, spewing out vengeful spirits and counterattacking Wuming who had attacked the old woman.

But Wuming avoided the resentful spirit far away - as the storm broke out, he fell heavily into the wall on the other side, causing it to crack.

Wuming said nothing, just watched the vengeful spirit approach him and then slowly dissipate.

Then, he picked up the lion helmet on the table, took out a handful of polish powder from his pocket and sprinkled it on the helmet. The helmet immediately became as new as new, with a smell of blood and incense.

Wuming put the helmet on his head and exhaled. The breath in the helmet immediately dissipated and floated in the room.

The old horned woman smelled the scent and shuddered all over.

"Oh, this fragrance..." The old woman's voice trembled, "Is it the brave man who has arrived? Oh, brave man, divine beast, you have finally...finally answered my prayers!"

Tears welled up from the old woman's horns, and she quoted in a poetic voice:

"Horned beast, divine beast, dance for us. Dance beautifully, dance gorgeously, and purify everything - purify the bad luck, the evil thieves, the enemies of the tower... purify the sons of the evil women!"

As the old woman chanted, Wuming felt the spiritual power leaping around him, and his soul became more excited.

Wuming lowered his voice:

"I'm thirsty."

"Oh, Yongren, it must be you. It was you who just dealt with the hateful intruder, right?" The old woman jumped off the table with joy, "Please wait a moment, I will cook a fresh dish for you right away."

The old woman hummed an ancient ballad with joy. Although she was blind, she moved around the warehouse skillfully, picking up one object after another and began to cook scorpion soup.

Wuming stood by, silently watching her selection of ingredients, techniques and cooking temperature.

Wuming had seen the extreme emotions of the Horned Man, and he also knew that the war here had lasted for a thousand years. Judging from the old woman's words, she had also been tortured many times. Wuming believed that even if he tortured her, he would not get what he wanted. Besides, he didn't want to force a confession.

If this old woman was blind, he could still deceive her with his appearance... Thinking of this, Wuming remembered how to deceive a blind person.

With impaired vision, one can only rely on other senses.

Wuming looked around and saw the lion head.

Judging from the information obtained from the treatment of the Horned Man, as well as the statue in the tower and the old woman's words, the mythical beast should be this lion head.

Wuming used repair powder to restore the helmet's former glory, so as to deceive the old woman's senses and make her think that she was a horn man, and a brave one among the horn men.

"Sorry, old lady, I don't have time to waste with you now." Wuming whispered softly in the lion head.

The old lady was still happily preparing the ingredients. The kitchen knife in her hand was a little blunt, and it was a bit difficult to cut the hard shell of the scorpion. The old woman exerted force with her hand, and the knife cut her hand.

The old woman put her fingers in her dry mouth and sucked on them, then continued cooking happily.

Wuming pulled the old woman's fingers, put his hand down, and the wound had healed.

"...Oh, thank you, Yuto." The old woman smiled, "Please wait a moment, the soup will be ready soon."

After a while, a pot of fresh soup was ready.

"I'll serve it." Wuming asked the old woman to stay away from the red-hot pot lid and served two bowls of soup, one for each person.

This soup is a little different from the previous ones. In addition to the original ingredients, scorpion claws are also added.

Wuming opened the lion's big mouth and took a sip.

The hot soup with scorpion claws is completely different from the cold soup before.

Wuming has no sense of taste, he can only feel the medicinal effects of the food but cannot taste its flavor.

But he still felt a different flavor in this bowl of soup, as if there was a soul in it, showing the cook's intentions.

Wuming tried to guess the intention, which seemed to be kindness and love.

He looked above the head of the old horned woman, where a vengeful spirit that looked like a skull was floating.

For the Horned People, perhaps cooking with the soul is not just empty talk, it is a technique that is unique to them.

In addition to the taste that penetrated the soul, the effect of this bowl of soup was more significant than the previous cold soup. Strength flowed into the body through the hot soup, making the body stronger.

Wuming held the pyroxene crystal in his hand.

The original image had been erased and replaced by a new one. He had already recorded the old woman's recipe in its entirety.

"I'm leaving." Wuming said.

The old woman was surprised: "Are you going to set off? Will you share my anger and dance beautifully to punish the son of Malika and his minions who betrayed us? Ah, mother-in-law, I am willing to sing for your dance!"

Wuming just remained silent and did not respond.

"Oh, what's wrong, Yongren?" The old woman was worried about Wuming's silence. "Ah, Yongren, is it me, your grandmother, who imposed my wishes on you? Is it my lamentation that bound you? If you feel pain, remember to take a break. Please go at your own pace. The people of the tower will not blame you for this. If there is such an ignorant person, I, your grandmother, will give him a beating for you!"

The old woman waved her fist and began to pant. After a while, she said softly:

"Please come at your own pace. If you are tired, you can come back anytime. I will prepare soup for you."

"Oh, right." The old woman called Wuming and waved to him kindly, "Yongren, come here, grandma will give you this."

The old woman held Wuming's hand, as if she had something in her hand that she wanted to entrust to Wuming.

Wuming raised his head and saw that the vengeful soul above the old woman's head had moved to above his head.

What came from the old woman's hands was a vein of power, which echoed with the warm current of the scorpion soup in the body, forming a special flow.

Wuming realized that this was a technique to communicate with souls.

"Take my son with you, brave man." The old woman smiled, "Let him help you and share your burden."

"What are you going to do?" Wuming looked at the old woman's head. He could see that the spiritual power was disappearing.

The power that had been protecting her and keeping her alive was gradually dissipating.

The old woman did not respond to Wuming. She seemed not to have heard what Wuming said. She looked straight in one direction. After a moment, she reacted and smiled at him:

"I'm sorry, Yuto. Grandma wants to take a rest. Maybe it's because I'm getting old, and I spend more time in a daze. Sometimes I can't tell whether it's reality or a dream."

Wuming felt that the old woman held his hand tighter and trembled, as if she was afraid to let go.

Wuming exerted force with his palm and gripped the old woman's withered hand with even greater strength. A ray of warm sunlight emanated from his hand, hovering above the old woman's head, slowly healing everything around her.

"Thank you, Yongren..." the old woman said, "This is real, this is not a dream..."

Wuming left the warehouse and closed the door gently.

He held the crystal that had recorded the recipe in his hand and once belonged to the little horned man. He looked up at the guardian spirit above his head and smiled bitterly.
"It's a bit of a high price to pay for this recipe."

In any case, I have to go to Ensis City.

Wuming left Ta Town with his hands behind his back.

Wuming traveled day and night, step by step towards the city of Ensis, as if he were on a pilgrimage.

No longer resisting the drowsiness and boredom of traveling, people can travel no slower on foot than on horseback.

A few days later, Wuming stood in front of the long bridge outside the city of Ensis.

He stood with his hands behind his back, looking up at the bodies on spears on both sides of the bridge, identifying each one.

Finally, the body was found on a spear near the inside of the long bridge.

There were three men pierced on the spears, with a man with small horns sandwiched between two men with big horns, making it difficult to be discovered.

The person was stabbed with his head lowered, and his horn could just be seen. Wuming recognized his identity from the position of the small horn.

The flames were still burning on the three horned men, their bodies were almost broken and fused together. One of the adults was the one who had carried him back to the cave on a stretcher, shouting for revenge. The caterpillar mask on his head was still on his head.

Wuming looked around and inadvertently saw a naked bald head with a birthmark on it. It was stuck on a brand new spear and seemed to have been hung there not long ago and had not been burned yet.

Wuming looked along the long bridge and saw the pierced corpses along the way extending all the way to the city wall.

Every corpse was no different from this one.

Wuming vaguely understood why the horn people refused to give names.

It's the same no matter who you are.

No matter if they are good or evil, children or avengers, all their ideals and aspirations, hatred and anger are equally inserted here.

Nalim was not special. Perhaps many of the corpses before him had secretly given themselves a name, fantasizing and being curious about things they had never seen before.

Some people grow up smoothly, marry and have children, some people make a mistake and their families are separated. Some people make a cruel living, some people can't stand those livings and run away. Some are slave blood monsters, some are furnace hybrids, and some are corrupt followers.

But they all have the same identity, those who are not blessed.

Finally, we are all hanging here equally with the same identity.

Jihad is like a sieve, a whirlpool. As long as you keep sifting, the right seeds will fall through sooner or later and eventually be crushed by the mill.

In Wuming's eyes, on both sides of the spear and pierced by the spear, ghosts lined up and sighed in unison.

Wuming stretched out his hand and wiped the horn of the little horn man Nalim.

He caught the soul that was lurking near the corner in his hand. It was a small ball, jumping and seemed to be as lively as when it was alive. However, the soul seemed to be burned and partially eroded.

Wuming looked at another horn man who was still burning. That man's soul was even stronger.

"The Horned People's understanding of the soul is really amazing." Wuming murmured. He even saw a little bit of the shadow of his hometown - a world where the development of the soul has reached its peak.

"Come to think of it, I often see those deformed and mixed body techniques at home." Wuming touched his chin, "Could it be that those who play with souls will torture the body in this way?"

Wuming stared at Nalim's soul and thought for a moment, then pushed it above his head and hung it above his head to keep it company with the guardian spirit.

Wuming also gathered the other souls on the string, and then burned the corpses and the spear together.

Just as I finished doing this, a voice came from behind me.

"What are you doing?"

Wuming looked back and saw a group of soldiers returning to the city, with several fresh prey skewered on their spears.

When the soldiers saw the large horns on Wuming's head, they immediately took up fighting stances and pointed their spears at him:
"filthy!"

(End of this chapter)