After extinguishing the stove, the aroma of fish soup wafted richly from the earthenware pot.
Though it contained nothing but fish and salt, what it offered was nature's pure, unadorned freshness.
At the smell, Aaron's thin little body actually began to rumble with hunger.
Using a chipped bowl, he ladled himself a serving of fish soup. Gazing at the pale-red broth, he slowly blew away the steam.
The former Fang Yu, even if he caught a big fish, would never bear to eat it himself. He would surely take it to the fish market to sell for money.
Only the tiny fish and shrimp that truly could not be sold would be brought back for his own meal.
Stinking fish and rotten shrimp—the sworn enemies of rice. That was how it went.
Now and then, when there was a festival or he had caught plenty of fish, he would stew crabs, shrimp, and whatever varieties of fish he had into one pot, sprinkle in some coarse salt, and call it a rare treat.
He had heard that this way of eating came from pirates at sea, which was why it was also called a "Pirate Pot."
But Aaron would rather invest in himself than let others profit.
After taking a sip of the pale-red fish soup, he immediately felt its intense savor assault his taste buds. The fish flesh was springy as well, and after sliding down his throat into his stomach, it gave rise to threads of warmth that made Aaron unable to feel the chill of the rainy night any longer.
"As expected of a minor dragon breed!"
Aaron sighed. Seeming to sense the fierce demand rising from his still-developing body, he began rapidly polishing off the fish soup.
As he ate the "Crimson Blood Carp," more fragmented