Artificial Creation
The hot pot had been brought by Li Bai himself. Wherever he went, he took it with him.
A purple-copper hot pot over charcoal—that was standard equipment.
Food could never be too refined, and meat could never be sliced too thin. Without even a purple-copper hot pot, how could one call oneself a hot pot enthusiast?
The Kitchen Squad had set up a table beside them. Bowls and plates surrounded the steaming hot pot, filling the entire table.
It was right next to the computer desk. The 4K full-screen Minesweeper game on the monitor continued, with chopsticks in one hand and a mouse in the other. It was the very definition of comfort.
It was an absolute tragedy that the fat man and the reporter weren't sitting down with them.
When Commander Cui and the staff officers caught the drifting aroma of hot pot, every one of them instantly felt terrible.
Poisoning the Command center in the middle of the night—this was utterly! Conscienceless!
Could they be any more outrageous?!
Li Bai, meanwhile, unhurriedly picked up a slice of beef and gently swirled it through the boiling broth. After three or four breaths, he lifted it out, dipped it deeply into a dish of Peanut Butter mixed with chive blossoms, and only then put it into his mouth.
The richness of the Peanut Butter combined with the beef's freshness, sweetness, and satisfying chew. Naturally, it tasted excellent.
He marked another mine.
The entire screen was packed with mines, making it extremely challenging. If he miscalculated, he might lose the whole board.
At that moment, a video-call request popped up from the adjacent computer.
Every so often, Wilson, the liaison representative of the Mercenary Allied Forces, would take the initiative to contact Commander Cui and exchange the latest intelligence.