Su Rui clicked his tongue again. Under Cen An’s bewildered gaze, he tossed the puppy into his arms and held out his hand. “Give me.”

Cen An watched in confusion as his sword was snatched away. The man casually picked up a sharp-toothed rat and, within ten seconds, peeled off a flawless rat pelt.

Cen An: …

So he was mocking me just now!

He stroked the puppy a few times, suddenly sensing something off. Looking down, he gasped, “What happened to its tail?”

He had trimmed the puppy’s tail before, but only the scorched part. And he’d used scissors. Though he’d tried to cut as close to the skin as possible, a layer of fine stubble always remained. Bald as it was, it was still pretty cute.

But now, the little pup’s tail was completely devoid of even a single hair! It hung stark white behind its rear end. At first glance, Cen An thought he was looking at a pig’s tail…

The poor pup whimpered pitifully, burrowing into his arms. Realizing something was amiss, it turned around, tucking its tail inside, prioritizing its head over its rear.

Cen An felt a pang of sorrow. “What happened? Why did the fur suddenly fall out?”

Yin Xiang muttered inwardly: What else could it be! Of course, it was his ruthless older brother’s doing! To punish him for running off everywhere, his brother had actually used his special ability to pluck his tail clean!

He never knew wind-element abilities could be used like this!

Great. Now he couldn’t transform back for a while.

After all, a bald tail on a cub might barely evoke pity. But on a subadult Silver Moon Wolf… Damn, the thought alone was painful to imagine!

Su Rui continued skinning. His movements were as practiced as if he’d been stripping rodent hides for eighty years, his heart colder than his blade. In moments, he stripped seventeen rats bare, leaving them naked and unburdened.

Su Rui narrowed his eyes at the flawlessly clean pelts, not a shred of flesh clinging to them. Satisfaction washed over him.

Cen An cleared his throat. “Are you here to eat? Where are the ingredients?”

Su Rui raised a hand, and a pile of items materialized in midair.

Cen An’s pupils contracted. Spatial abilities!

Earlier that day, while chatting with Qu Yue, he had subtly inquired about the matter of ability users.

Qu Yue explained that common abilities fell into five elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. They were ranked from Level 1 to Level 10 based on strength. Both she and Zhao Wu were Level 3 ability users—considered masters in Yongning Village, though their abilities were insignificant outside.

Beyond these five common types, rare abilities existed—spatial, psychic, lightning, and others. Not only were these individuals scarce, but their combat prowess often surpassed that of ordinary ability users.

In her nearly thirty years of life, Qu Yue had encountered only a handful of such rare individuals.

Cen An never imagined that the puppy he’d casually picked up would lead him to its owner, a rare spatial ability user.

He silently elevated the newcomer’s threat level to maximum while discreetly inspecting the provisions she brought.

The most eye-catching items were two live pheasants. Where there were wild pheasant eggs in the mountains, there were naturally wild pheasants too. Yet, with the constant pressure from mutant beasts, ordinary wildlife in the mountains had become increasingly scarce. For ordinary people, even a single bite of meat was a rare luxury.

Beside them lay a sack of rice, roughly five jin. Cen An lifted it, puzzled. “Didn’t they say crops won’t grow here now?”

Qu Yue had mentioned it before—though the mountains were lush with weeds and fertile soil, clearing these plots to plant grain yielded nothing. No one could explain why.

Su Rui raised an eyebrow. “Deep in the mountains, there are still places suitable for cultivation. They’re just fewer in number.”

Cen An nodded. The way this man spoke of the deep mountains was as if the mountains belonged to his family.

But this made him feel even more at ease. Since there were still places suitable for farming, he wouldn’t stand out too much.

Finally, there was a bundle of… um, weeds?

He picked up the large mass of plants and examined it closely. Edible and inedible parts were tangled together, even mixed with some dead branches and rotten leaves. It was clearly just a handful roughly gathered and bundled.

Cen An sighed, holding the bundle of grass, trying to convince himself: Well, he paid for it.

Su Rui was sensitive to people’s moods and leaned closer. “What’s wrong? I smelled it—it’s not poisonous.”

Cen An tried to hold back, but couldn’t quite manage it. He forced a smile. “Not poisonous doesn’t mean it’s edible. Could you please leave it for the rabbits and sheep in the mountains?”

“Hmm…” Su Rui pondered, then flipped his palm to reveal five crystal cores. “Here.”

Cen An instantly felt there was nothing to be angry about. So what if there were some weeds? As long as the customer was willing to eat it, he could stew it.

Taking the crystals, Cen An lifted the pheasant, intending to prepare it first.

He fumbled with his iron sword, recalling how chickens were slaughtered at the market—was it a single cut to the neck to bleed them out?

“Are the toes for me to eat too?” Su Rui asked hesitantly.

Cen An:?

Su Rui pointed at the sword. “Cut at this angle, and the pheasant’s head will come off along with your toes.”

Cen An inhaled sharply, then smiled.

“How have you not starved to death with that sharp tongue?”

Su Rui sighed and held out his hand.

Cen An:?

The tall, sturdy dog owner stated plainly, “Give me back one crystal core. I’ll handle the chicken.”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

He must admit, the dog owner did an excellent job cleaning the chicken—he plucked every last feather cleanly, cut it into perfectly even pieces.

Whether it was worth a crystal core was another matter.

While he worked, Cen An tidied up the pile of weeds. Discarding the inedible parts, he found some good stuff.

Wild onions, wild garlic, a bunch of water celery, and a small sprig of green Sichuan pepper—perfect for stir-frying the chicken.

The campfire was lit again in the small shack, and the large iron pot was set over it.

Cen An scooped several chunks of yellow chicken fat from the meat, placing them at the bottom of the pot to slowly render. Soon, the bubbling fat was forced out, pooling into a glistening mass.

Fresh chicken chunks were immediately tossed in, sizzling loudly—

The aroma in the shack became almost unbearable.

Even Yin Xiang, who usually kept his tail tucked away, couldn’t resist. He poked his head out from the haystack, whimpering, “Woo-woo~”

Cen An responded instinctively, “Almost done! We’ll eat soon. How about I make you a cold water celery salad too?”

Yin Xiang: “Woof~”

Su Rui grabbed him by the scruff and tossed him onto the ground, not quite understanding why this man treated his younger brother so much better than him.

What was so adorable about this fat pup, puffed up like a float?

Cen An quickly stir-fried the chicken, cooking off the moisture before adding wild onions, wild garlic, Sichuan peppercorns, salt, and soy sauce fruit. He tossed it all together for a moment longer.

He poured in boiling water, tossed in the Sichuan peppercorns with their leaves, and began simmering.

The chicken needed at least half an hour to simmer, and the rice hadn’t been steamed yet. He opened the wooden box, took out a few more iron ingots, and smiled. “I’ll go swap out the iron pot.”

Then he stepped outside.

Of course, he had nowhere to exchange the iron pot. He simply walked to a secluded spot, activated the recipe, and forged a new iron pot.

This time, he crafted a dual-purpose steaming and boiling pot—one Cen An could use himself.

He set the rice to steam and used the time to arrange the skinned rat hides.

He knew nothing of tanning, so he’d have to visit the small market tomorrow. The rat meat, however, could be saved.

He realized he hadn’t eaten meat in days. The rat meat wasn’t edible, but it could serve as bait. If he made another trap, he could catch chickens and rabbits himself…

The campfire crackled and popped. Even with the lid on, the large iron pot gave off an undeniably delicious aroma.

Yin Xiang was so hungry he’d forgotten about his own bald tail, circling the pot incessantly.

Su Rui still held up, though the rapid tapping of his fingers on his knee betrayed his inner turmoil.

Under their silent urging, Cen An lifted the lid and peered inside. “Alright, dinner’s ready.”

Su Rui’s eyes lit up. With a flick of his wrist, two wooden bowls—each larger than a laundry tub—clattered down.

Cen An: …

Alright, he’d originally planned to have them eat directly from the pot. Having bowls made things much easier—otherwise, he’d have to wait until they finished before cooking his own meal.

The large iron pot, loaded with two chickens, was quite heavy. Su Rui took charge, transferring the stewed chicken from the pot into the wooden bowls.

Cen An helped pour the rice into the other bowl.

The rice had only been hulled—in his previous life, it would have been considered brown rice. Cen An added plenty of water. Steamed over ample heat and being fresh, the rice released a rich, fragrant aroma.

Oh, right—there was also water celery.

The tender water celery was blanched in hot water, sprinkled with a dash of soy sauce, and tossed with the last bits of wild scallions and garlic. It was crisp and refreshing.

One meat dish, one vegetable—all set. Cen An clapped his hands. “Dinner’s ready.”

Both man and wolf pup dug in as if obeying a command, heads down, eating voraciously.

The chicken chunks were thoroughly marinated, glistening with savory sauce—salty, umami-rich, with the numbing kick of Sichuan peppercorns and the heat of wild scallions…

The stewing was just right—one bite and the meat fell off the bone.

Su Rui polished off half the bowl in one go, leaving Yin Xiang whining anxiously, afraid his brother would eat it all and leave him nothing.

Cen An had already begun preparing his own dinner.

A bit of chicken fat remained in the pan. After asking Su Rui, he used it to coat the bottom, then washed and shredded some fresh mushrooms and wood ear mushrooms. He tossed them in for a simple stir-fry of assorted mushrooms.

The mushrooms offered a distinct freshness. Both brothers, engrossed in their chicken, turned to glance back—too embarrassed to ask for their own portion.

The ground fruit was buried in the ashes as usual. Cen An then whipped up a mint egg drop soup.

He’d originally planned to make mint mushroom soup, but with wild eggs available, an egg drop soup would naturally be more fragrant.

The egg white blossomed in layers of white fluff across the boiling water. He crumbled fresh mint leaves into the pot, and a refreshing aroma immediately filled the air.

Cen An ladled a full wooden bowl and carried it to the brothers’ table. “This is on the house. Thanks for helping me skin that rodent.”

Su Rui pondered, took a sip, then his eyes lit up. “This…”

Cen An cut him off. “Mint? It grows everywhere in the mountains. If you want some, go find it yourself. Not just any grass will do.”

Su Rui’s expression immediately settled. “Oh.”

Cen An strolled back to eat his own meal.

Though lacking meat, the stir-fried mixed mushrooms were exceptionally savory. The fresh-flavored mushrooms, especially, lived up to their name—even simply stir-fried, they possessed a rich, savory depth reminiscent of a thick, savory sauce.

The mint egg soup was a favorite from his past life. The mint neutralized the egg’s gaminess, leaving only the egg’s aroma and the mint’s fresh fragrance. Each sip brought a refreshing burst of flavor.

The meal left all three thoroughly satisfied. The brothers eventually poured their rice into the chicken stir-fry pot, scraping every last drop of sauce clean.

By the time they left, the two large wooden bowls gleamed as clean as new.

That wasn’t unusual, but what puzzled Cen An was the disappearance of even the chicken bones. Surely they hadn’t eaten those? Or had they stored them in their spatial pouches?

Well, they sure were thrifty.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

With one person and one dog gone from the hut, it felt strangely quiet.

The two had agreed to hire him for only one meal a day, coming only at night. After all, Cen An might not be home during the day.

The campfire gradually died down, moonlight spilling through the hole in the roof.

Cen An gathered the ashes, sorted the remaining supplies into categories, then climbed onto the small, rickety bamboo bed.

His second day in this world had ended.