Chu Youren had already given up on the idea of eating the Ink Breath Fish because of Chu Youwei's words, but at the sight of its tender flesh, he still could not stop himself from swallowing. Especially when it was half-roasted and threads of fatty fragrance spread through the air, the craving in his heart surged beyond control.
At this moment, Chu Youren regretted it deeply—regretted not stopping sooner, regretted greedily drawing in so much dense spiritual energy at once and nearly stuffing himself to death.
What he felt now was like an ordinary person who had guzzled more than half a vat of water and stuffed his belly with coarse grain until he could not hold another bite, only to suddenly be presented with a whole table of delicacies from mountain and sea.
He could only stare helplessly, wanting to cry but without tears.
"Almost ready," Lin Xiaowan said, judging the heat. She pinched up a slice of fish with her fingertips and held it out to Lu Feng. "Brother, you taste it first."
Lu Feng glanced at the nearly twenty or thirty slices still left on the stone slab. He did not refuse and began to eat.
The moment it entered his mouth, the first thing to seize his senses was the tenderness of the Ink Breath Fish. With merely a light touch of his tongue, the thin slice of fish gently melted apart. Its fresh, savory flavor instantly filled his entire mouth, then rose and lingered at the tip of his nose. For a moment, his whole being seemed to grow quiet.
As he swallowed, it was like plain snow melting down his throat—without the slightest obstruction, carrying a coolness that refreshed his heart and spleen.
His mind opened and his spirit delighted; the aftertaste was endless.