This was the hardest outdoor meal Hou Niao had ever endured.
Cultivators did not even fear death, so why would they fear eating anything? But that was not how such things could be compared.
There were several flasks of wine, but only one pot of food, Patrol Envoy Xiang's specialty. Supposedly, ordinary people never got to eat it; only those he thought well of had that good fortune.
Hou Niao understood perfectly well that this might not simply be a pot of spicy dung beetles. It could also be regarded as a very special ritual. No one would say so outright, but everyone understood what it meant.
He had almost no other choice. Like veterans dealing with a new recruit in an army camp, he had to clear this hurdle first, or he would find it difficult to fit into the group.
Feigning indifference, he scooped up a spoonful and tossed it into his mouth to show his boldness, chewing with exaggerated gusto. In truth, he had not tasted it at all. He simply kept reminding himself not to spit it out and make a fool of himself!
The two seniors watched him and laughed inwardly. How could they not know what was going on?
Xiang Zhiwen picked one up with his chopsticks and shared his experience. "Actually, the trick to eating these is to chew them slowly, one at a time. Only then can you savor their true flavor!"
Dou Gong said, "Every dung beetle has lived a different life. No two are exactly alike. Savor them carefully..."
Xiang Zhiwen said, "The fun of eating these is that you never know whether the next one will be fragrant or foul.
"If it's fragrant, that's my good cooking. If it stinks, Dou Gong didn't wash it properly."
"This one, for