Inside Jigong Hall, Chen Xiang pushed open the door and saw a scene completely different from what he had imagined.
A monk in tattered robes sat before a table, his long hair hanging over his shoulders and a broken fan stuck into the back of his neck. On the table before him lay a pile of dark-red dog meat, with a jug of wine beside it.
From Chen Xiang's perspective, that dog had probably been a late-stage Da Luo expert. Yet now it had become a dish, with even the Great Dao refined into its flesh.
Chen Xiang was overjoyed. This was settled. If Master Daoji was willing to act, Xiaotian Dog would certainly die without a chance of survival.
Daoji was holding a roasted dog leg in his right hand, oil smeared across the corners of his mouth. He took a bite of meat and a drink of wine, eating with great enjoyment.
Upon seeing Chen Xiang, Daoji crooked his finger at him and said indistinctly, "Come, come, have a taste of this dog meat. It's incredibly fragrant. I wouldn't give it to an ordinary person!"
Chen Xiang walked straight over. Without minding Daoji's oily appearance, he reached out, took a piece of meat, and stuffed it into his mouth.
The moment it entered his mouth, he sensed something different. Dense Dao rhythms flowed through his limbs and bones, while a faint demonic nature surged into his spiritual platform, tempering his mind.
A mouthful of this dog meat was practically more effective than an ordinary mid-grade Innate spiritual root.
The effect was secondary. Most important was the flavor. It was indescribably delicious, having reached the level where skill approached the Dao. If a Taiyi possessed such culinary skill, he ought to be able to prove the Da Luo Dao