Chapter 10: Spicy Crab Legs — Making the Cold Pool Weep with Hunger

Chapter 10: Spicy Crab Legs — Making the Cold Pool Weep with Hunger

Half an hour later.

Ling Yue and Qin Meng returned laden with spoils.

Qin Meng carried a huge basket of lapis azure stones—enough to repair most of the broken bridge. Ling Yue dragged a massive net (woven from leftover spider silk), stuffed with eight enormous, freshly cleaned spider legs.

Back in the side hall’s kitchen, night had already fallen.

Ling Yue waved grandly:

“Tonight, we feast! Celebrating the founding of Ninth Peak’s first hunting squad!”

Qin Meng scratched his head sheepishly, eyeing the hairy black legs with unease.

Could these… really be edible?

They were poisonous insects, after all.

But his doubts quickly vanished.

Ling Yue first boiled the legs in her black pot.

The artifact known as “All Things Can Enter the Pot” worked its magic again. As the water boiled, a white glow shimmered, stripping away the black bristles, revealing shells streaked red and white. The stench dissolved, replaced by a sweet, seafood-like aroma.

“This pot… it purifies toxins?” Qin Meng gaped.

“Of course—it’s a family heirloom,” Ling Yue lied smoothly, then picked up a knife (actually a makeshift dagger Qin Meng had sharpened for her). With a few crack-crack strikes, she split the shells, exposing plump, snowy meat.

Now for the main act.

Oil (from frost toad fat) heated in the pot.

A fistful of ghost-face scallions, a handful of wild mountain peppers, and crushed Sichuan peppercorns.

“Zzzla——”

Red oil bubbled, releasing a fiery, intoxicating fragrance.

The spice was fiercer than yesterday’s roast meat, making Qin Meng sneeze three times, yet his mouth watered uncontrollably.

Spider legs went in.

High flame stir-fry!

Though she had no spiritual power, Ling Yue’s wok skills were masterful. Red oil coated every shell, while the tender meat shrank, soaking up the sauce.

Finally, she scattered green scallions and drizzled aged vinegar (a system reward).

“Done!”

A basin of gleaming red, aromatic Spicy Demon Spider Legs landed on the table.

The smell was divine—rich oil, fiery chili, numbing pepper, and the sweet freshness of crab-like meat.

Qin Meng couldn’t resist.

He grabbed a piece, copied Ling Yue, and sucked gently.

“Slurp——”

A chunk of tender meat slid into his mouth.

Boom!

It felt like his skull exploded.

Spicy! Fiery!

But exhilarating. The sensation blasted from his tongue to his stomach, opening every pore. His qi and blood, sluggish from battle, surged anew, circulation doubling.

“Sister-in-law… what heavenly dish is this?” Qin Meng gasped between bites, unable to stop. “Better than any fasting pill by ten thousand times!”

Ling Yue beamed.

“This is called Spicy Crab… no, Spicy Spider. Eat more—it’s nourishing.”

She happily gnawed a piece herself.

Beside them, the bald rooster was already devouring. Its sharp beak cracked shells effortlessly, slurping meat with practiced skill, chirping in satisfaction.

Dinner ended (though without wine).

Qin Meng, belly round, volunteered to wash dishes—insisting his sister-in-law shouldn’t tire herself.

Ling Yue sat on the threshold, gazing at the moon veiled by demonic haze, holding the last untouched spider leg—the largest, fattest one.

“Brother Chicken.”

She nudged the rooster, sprawled on its back digesting.

“Cheep?” (What?)

It lazily raised its head.

Ling Yue handed it the wrapped leg, pointing toward the back mountain.

“Don’t just eat for yourself. Take this… to him.”

Him?

The rooster blinked, then realized.

Its golden eyes flickered with hesitation.

That man… was terrifying. And he had fasted for centuries—would he eat mortal food?

“Go on.” Ling Yue stroked its bald head.

“He’s alone, soaking in the cold pool. Must be freezing. A little spice will warm him.”

The rooster looked at her, then at the steaming leg.

Finally, it sighed (if chickens could sigh), picked up the parcel, and flew into the night.

…

Back mountain, cold pool.

The wind was still icy.

But tonight, the air carried an overpowering, spicy fragrance.

Xie Wuwang did not close his eyes.

He watched the red rooster swoop down like a thief, drop an oil-paper parcel onto the ice, then flee in panic.

“…”

He stared at the package.

Its heat melted the ice with a sizzle.

The aroma was stronger than ever—chili and pepper, bold and defiant, as if declaring war on the dead silence of the pool.

He should have destroyed it.

He was Sword Sovereign, a half-step ascendant. How could he be swayed by mere food?

But within that fragrance lingered something he had not felt in centuries—the warmth of mortal life.

Compelled, the black chains stirred.

A pale, slender hand broke the surface, seizing the parcel.

He opened it.

Inside lay a gleaming, red spider leg.

Xie Wuwang stared for a long time.

Finally, as if to prove its insignificance, he took a bite.

“…”

At once, the man who had sealed himself for a hundred years frowned—then relaxed.

Fiery spice burned down his throat, igniting long-dormant spiritual power. Weak, but real.

“Spicy…”

He whispered the word.

And in his voice was a trace of life.

He looked at the half-eaten leg—and did not discard it.

Instead… he took another bite.