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墨書 Inktalez
As John held the vegetables in his hands, the sound of machinery echoed in his mind. He felt a moment of disorientation, unable to believe that his Golden Finger had awakened at such a time. Just as he was about to check it, Scold called him back to reality.
"Hey, you Zhu Wo, get moving!"
Looking around at the hungry gazes of the people nearby and the whip in the hands of the burly man, John decided it was best to get through this situation before examining his Golden Finger.
His eyes scanned the ingredients on the table: a few potatoes, a chunk of pork with a significant amount of fat, two unknown bird eggs, various nameless greens, and a small jar of salt. There was also a Big Pot set up nearby and a knife for cutting.
This was the most rudimentary kitchen he had ever seen; there wasn't even a bottle of soy sauce. At least some cooking oil would have been nice.
Looking at the piece of pork, he realized he had no choice but to render some lard. He sliced off the fatty portions and cut them into small pieces, pouring a bit of water into the pot to start rendering the fat.
He chopped the potatoes into chunks and cracked the bird eggs into a wooden bowl for preparation. Then he sliced the remaining pork into thin pieces while rummaging through the greens, searching for something familiar.
Sniffing around, he found two types of wild vegetables that resembled oil wheat and green onions from his past life. He washed them clean and set them aside.
After busying himself for over half an hour, John carefully placed four dishes in front of Mercenary Captain Poland.
"Done. Please give it a try."
Watching Poland pick up a fork to taste the dishes made John anxious; he wasn't sure if he would pass this test. His cooking skills were limited to home-style dishes learned out of necessity due to low wages that made takeout unaffordable. Eventually, he discovered that pre-made meals were cheaper, and he hadn't cooked in ages. He hoped he wouldn't mess this up.
Poland tasted each dish one by one, then wiped his mouth with the Handkerchief hanging from his chest. His gaze fixed intently on John as he spoke in a calm tone.
"Tell me the names of these four dishes."
Hearing the question eased John's anxiety considerably. "My lord, these are Scallion Pork Stir-Fry, Chili Potato Strips, Meat Minced Vegetables, and Scallion Scrambled Eggs."
Noticing that there was no significant reaction from Poland, John cautiously asked, "Are you satisfied?"
Without looking at John, Poland slowly stood up and paused beside Big Beard Macorio.
"Throw this cook into the Slave Team. I want to eat our new cook's dishes tonight. And make sure our new cook gets a good bath and some decent clothes."
"Understood, Captain." The burly man nodded quickly, respectfully seeing Poland off as he left the threshing floor.
Looking at Poland from a distance, Big Beard Macario strode over to the table, which was really just a broken wooden stump. He scooped up some food with a spoon and brought it to his mouth, the rich aroma of meat exploding on his taste buds. He gave John a hearty pat on the shoulder.
"Not bad, kid. Damn, was I eating pig slop before? Someone get me the chef and toss him into the slave pile. And remember to strip him of that nice outfit."
"Get him cleaned up, give him a bath; Captain and Macario still want to eat the food you cooked."
Holding the warm clothes in his hands, John looked at the crowd nearby, where people were howling like wolves. At that moment, he felt as if he were truly alive again. Tears and snot streamed down his face uncontrollably; the experiences of the past few hours had hit him hard.
It was only after someone mechanically cleaned the dirt off him that he began to regain his senses. Staring at the oversized clothes he wore and the freshly bandaged wound on his head, John finally calmed his racing heart and remembered the sounds that had echoed in his mind earlier.
His consciousness sank deep into his thoughts, and the glowing orbs in his vision began to shift shape. A book, filled with strange yet mysterious symbols, appeared in his mind. As he turned his awareness, the book opened to its first page.
With that opening came a warm flow that surged into John's mind.
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