The summer in Haizhou City was hotter this year than in years past.
Perhaps it was because of the warm ocean currents, or perhaps because the enormous Flying Whale no longer drew seawater from the sea and turned it into falling rain.
After the Battle of Cloud Terrace, the Western Sea Sword Sect had retreated into the depths of the ocean, and its influence in Haizhou had gradually faded. Many small and medium-sized sects had seized the opportunity to move in.
There had once been a restaurant on Main Street in Haizhou, whose proprietress was a fox spirit.
Nan Zheng and other powerful members of the Never-Old Forest had reduced the restaurant to ruins, but the location was so good that another restaurant had appeared there some years later. Interestingly, this restaurant served hotpot just as the old one had, and not merely seafood hotpot, but Yizhou-style and northern-style hotpot as well.
A guest wearing a bamboo hat entered the restaurant, ordered a small hotpot for one, casually ate and drank a little, then paid and left. Water had been sprinkled over the stone steps outside. As the guest passed, the water briefly reflected the face beneath the hat. It was black, though whether that was a mask or something else was unclear.
A waiter soon cleared the table. The leftover hotpot broth was poured into a slop bucket, while a small slip of paper was delivered to the kitchen.
The slip of paper eventually reached a private room.
The hotpot in the private room was large, without a divider for two broths. The red broth looked like blood, or like the sunset at Fruitful Accomplishment Temple, and gave off a spicy scent.
With his right foot planted on his chair, Yin San rather inelegantly fished aorta and tripe from