On the outskirts of Three Rivers Prefecture, smoke curled up from the cooking fires of a farmstead.
In the middle of the spacious grain-drying yard stood a huge iron cauldron. The firewood beneath it burned brightly, and the rice porridge inside bubbled and gurgled.
White rice grains rolled in the pot, giving off a strange, sweet fragrance.
The fat cook stood beside the cauldron in a grease-stained apron, stirring with a wooden ladle. Lord Food was clearly in an extremely peculiar state, his expression crazed.
Behind Lord Food stood more than a dozen disciples, every one of them pale with terror.
From time to time, they raised their eyes to look around. Hundreds of farmers—men, women, old people, and children alike—had gathered in the drying yard, staring fixedly at the iron cauldron with their throats constantly bobbing, as if their eyes would pierce through it.
Gurgle, gurgle.
"I'm getting hungry. Cultivating the Buddhist sect's secret arts really does make one prone to hunger."
Lord Food's belly squirmed as though some living creature within him were rioting.
In just a few moments, his body visibly wasted away. A vaguely human shape curled within the folds of his belly fat, seemingly drawing upon his nourishment without end.
Yet he wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth and gave a chuckle, then directly lifted the huge iron cauldron. Paying no heed to its scalding heat, he poured the rice porridge straight into his mouth.
Only after drinking nearly a third of it did he smack his lips and stop.
His gaunt body swelled up once more, returning him to the greasy-faced fat cook he had been before, though there was now an extra trace of satiated crimson in his eyes.
"He'll be here soon. If it weren't for him, I never