Striking the Bell

"Su Na'er, want a bite?"

The mountain of flesh rotated the bone club and easily carved off a lamb's foreleg, exposing the steaming red meat to the air.

White vapor billowed and churned. Rich juices dripped from the red meat into the basin, sending golden ripples spreading across its surface.

Su Na'er swallowed.

He had only just finished breakfast, but Ha Lu Han's eating was simply too appetizing. Cumin with roasted meat—happier than an immortal. It was hard not to stir up one's cravings.

"Na'er!"

The Northern Court envoy's face hardened.

Even the falling snow seemed shaken loose by that shout.

With the envoy speaking, Su Na'er did not dare act recklessly. He wiped the corner of his mouth and waved a hand in refusal. "No, no, I'm not too hungry. You eat, Ha Lu Han."

Ha Lu Han did not stand on ceremony.

He stuffed the lamb bone into his mouth and stripped it clean in one sweep, then bit through the bone, sucked dry the oily marrow, and finished with a purple onion.

How impressive.

An entire roasted sheep had gone into his stomach in less than a quarter hour, leaving behind only a stark skeleton.

An enviable appetite.

Su Na'er had counted carefully.

For breakfast alone, Ha Lu Han ate three sheep, half a pig, and countless purple onions and yellow carrots.

When his appetite was especially good, he added another two beef legs. The officials of Honglu Temple had long suspected them of extravagance and waste, only giving up after witnessing Ha Lu Han's appetite with their own eyes.

He suspected this was some secret cultivation art of the Naiman tribe.

Because whenever Ha Lu Han ate, the chief envoy always forbade anyone from disturbing him.

And within Ha Lu Han's enormous body dwelled a surging,