Niao Nio

"Speaking of which, obtaining this card had something to do with Lord Moro. It happened nearly three months ago..." Angel recounted to Moro the incident of encountering that strange seabird.

"That oddly dressed seabird drank the tea brewed with Morning Dew After Rain, then left. Before it went, it left this gold card with me."

After Angel finished, Moro's expression turned somewhat strange, mingling regret and envy. When they had left Pat Manor, Angel had given him most of the Morning Dew After Rain.

Although Morning Dew After Rain was merely a low-grade magical plant, its unique effects rivaled those of the White Orchid Potion. For the vast majority of Wizard Apprentices, the White Orchid Potion was medicine they could only gaze at longingly, utterly beyond their means.

Moro had originally planned to make a fortune from the Morning Dew After Rain after returning to the Prosperous Continent, hoping to seize the chance to receive guidance from a Formal Wizard. Thus, throughout the journey, he had never taken out the Morning Dew After Rain. Even Florent had not known he possessed such miraculous tea leaves.

Who would have thought that he had hidden them so tightly, all for the sake of seeking a sliver of opportunity—while Angel had openly taken them out to drink and actually won himself an opportunity

!

Moro hated this!

If only he had known, if only he had known...

Moro suddenly let out a deflated sigh. In this world, where was there any such thing as knowing beforehand? It was merely that his luck had fallen short, and time waited for no one.

No one noticed the change in Moro's expression. Even if they had, no one would have cared.

"Nehehehehe, so Lord Toby was the one who gave you your gold card!" Soup Weasel said.

"Lord Toby? That strangely dressed seabird with a backpack?" Angel asked doubtfully.

Soup Weasel performed a ballet turn, his face filled with adoration. "That's right, it was Lord Toby! Lord Toby is the master's most favored magical pet. In Barbie Restaurant, his status is equal to the master's!"

When Angel continued asking about Toby, Soup Weasel stopped speaking and merely chuckled. "Nehehehe, when the guest dines later, he will naturally see Lord Toby."

In the story Angel had just told, Soup Weasel's attention had been on "Toby," while the other transcendents had focused on the Morning Dew After Rain.

However, Angel was following beside Soup Weasel, and they were not as familiar with Angel as Moro was, so they could only keep their thoughts bottled up.

As for the Formal Wizards, after learning the origin of Angel's gold card, they no longer paid attention to him. Whatever effects that Morning Dew After Rain had, it held no appeal for Formal Wizards.

Only Heloline of White Coral Floating Island Academy gave Angel a long, deep look.

Good fortune was also a part of one's strength. If Angel could maintain such flourishing luck, perhaps advancing to become a Formal Wizard would not be impossible.

Heloline pondered inwardly. If this boy's talent proved decent, she could observe him for now.

Right, what had he wanted to ask Moro just now? What came after "the day of the talent test"? It seemed Moro had interrupted him.

It did not matter. He was merely a lucky talent holder; there was no telling whether he would amount to anything.

The deep corridor had walls whose every crevice was covered in thorn-tipped vines. From time to time, a vivid blood-red rose bloomed among them, creating, amid such extreme contrast, a decadent and absolute beauty.

At the end of the corridor, scarlet curtains blocked the view. Behind them lay Barbie Restaurant's banquet room—or, more precisely, the banquet room for bronze-card VIPs.

"Oh ho ho ho, the Devil Vine seeds over here are already mature. They can be planted in the brain pulp of Black-Skinned Goblins. Ho ho ho, in just three months, we'll harvest the most delicious brain flowers." A purple-haired woman, plump to the point of obesity and obese to the point of having six chins, raised a cocktail glass containing white viscous matter that smelled fragrant but seemed to steam with a purple-black aura. "Old friend, want a glass? Oh ho ho ho, drinking this Black Goblin Brain Flower will raise your mental focus so that you won't tire for ten days and ten nights."

Sanders removed the black top hat from his head, revealing short gray-green curls. He set the hat on the table, took the cocktail glass from Gloria's hand, and drained in one gulp the brain flower Flora regarded as dark cuisine without the slightest concern.

"Not bad." Sanders set down the glass, interlaced his fingers, and shrugged, giving an indifferent reply.

"Hehe, I forgot to tell you—Black Goblin Brain Flower also has a powerful stimulating effect on the brain's Shulomon. Do you like it?" The purple-haired fat woman, Gloria, narrowed her tiny eyes.

.

Sanders remained expressionless. "I felt it. Pheromones are being secreted in large quantities."

Gloria leaned close to Sanders and took a deep breath beside his neck, but she did not smell anything.

Gloria could not help frowning, looking at Sanders with disdain. "A stinking man with no sense of romance. You actually suppressed Shulomon secretion. I wanted to smell you—are you as dull and tasteless as your scent?"

Gloria's words won the vehement agreement of Flora, who was floating in midair and idly swimming up and down.

Flora's support made Gloria toss her a flirtatious glance. However, that flirtatious look received only Flora's eye roll in return.

Sanders's gaze remained calm. "Let's talk less about irrelevant matters. Your invitation cards aren't easy to obtain."

Gloria bent at the waist with all her abundant charm, her large, white, plump hand painted with vermilion nail polish supporting her chin as she gazed at Sanders seductively. Her gaudy eye makeup blurred into layered waves with every exaggerated flirtatious glance.

Yet Sanders still did not spare her a proper look. This time, he could not even be bothered to raise his eyes.

"Are you really frigid? There's a beauty right in front of you, and you don't know how to seize the chance." Gloria, who considered herself a "beauty," rolled her eyes, swayed her enormous buttocks, and waddled over to the ingredient table nearby.

The ingredient table was covered with all manner of wondrous tools—

Various floating glass vessels held all sorts of ingredients, all with unconventional appearances: pitch-black chunks of meat, viscous liquids wreathed in purple-red vapor, soft-bodied worms covered in eyeballs whose eyeballs still moved as they arched themselves and crawled, and even vortices of colored gas.

Gloria had collected these ingredients from all kinds of places. One reason Barbie Restaurant drifted everywhere was to acquire ingredients from different locations. At times, Gloria even traveled to other planes in search of ingredients. For example, most ingredients emitting a purple-black aura came from the Abyss Plane, while gaseous ingredients mostly came from the Burning Plane.

Wearing a close-fitting pale crimson dress, Gloria struck what she considered the pose that best displayed her curves before the kitchen. Raising her chin layered with folds of flesh, she picked up an enormous diamond-studded soup ladle. "Twisted Baworm again?"

Sanders nodded.

Gloria snorted and curled her lips. "Boring man."

The Twisted Baworm was a special insect incapable of reproduction, and it did not occur naturally. The only way to obtain it was through a witchcraft Gloria had invented herself, cooking various ingredients together. The final result was this strange-tasting food that was useless to everyone else, yet immensely useful to Sanders alone.

Gloria released the witchcraft unique to the mysterious gourmet school, coordinating it with her exclusive cooking utensils as she began processing the ingredients.

She had only finished processing less than half when the curtains of the banquet room were lifted, and a tiny man who looked incomparably slovenly, greasy all over, with a pointed mouth and bean-sized eyes, slipped inside.

The tiny man was roughly as tall as Flora. His limbs were extremely thin, his back hunched, and he looked like a lazy, slovenly laborer from the lowest ranks.

The moment this tiny man entered, Flora frowned and flew a little closer to Sanders. Disgust and wariness surfaced in her eyes toward the man, making it clear that this newcomer was no ordinary person.

"Greasy Bird, what are you doing here?"