Just as Yvette successfully broke through her martial bottleneck and let out a satisfied burp, Yelena suddenly had an idea.
Let Yvette be her chief food taster. Then she could sell these new dishes and earn money to support herself.
[Myriad Food Box] needed more intense emotions.
Although Yvette’s approval was very valuable, she couldn’t be the only one.
Yelena now wanted to open her own shop. It wasn’t just to collect strong emotions.
More importantly, she wanted the Golden Lion Holy Alliance Squad to know that the abandoned Ye Lian was dead.
The person alive now was Yelena Moon Tail, determined to make the whole city line up to buy her food in the future.
After dinner, Yvette went to the study to handle official business on her own. The maid Anna was cleaning the cooking utensils. Yelena sidled up to her and whispered, “Anna, does the Sword Saint’s Mansion have a back door?”
Hearing this, Anna looked up warily. “What does Lady Yelena plan to do with that information?”
“I noticed the kitchen is pretty close to the back door. I wanted to study the kitchen’s ventilation, haha…”
“Lady Yelena, the back door doesn’t ventilate. It leads to Mercenary Street.”
Hearing Anna mention Mercenary Street, her fox ears perked up instantly. She then asked curiously, “Mercenary Street? What’s that street like?”
“A melting pot of the good and bad. It’s very dangerous. Antar City’s temporary combat strength comes from there. But drunk mercenaries, broke thieves, and fake potion-selling witches all gather there.”
Yelena’s eyes lit up even more.
A melting pot of good and bad? That was great! The bigger the waves, the more valuable the fish~
Anna looked at her fox eyes sparkling like stars and felt uneasy. “Lady Yelena, you’re not thinking of running away, are you?”
“Anna, that’s your mistake. I’m doing market research.”
“But the Family Head said you can’t make new dishes for outsiders.” Anna was torn now, but her words still leaned toward her former master.
“If you’re worried, come with me~” Yelena naturally knew she couldn’t shake off this little tail, so she decided to play along.
Anna was silent for a moment, then let out a light sigh. She went to a room and took out a special outfit, handing it to Yelena. “I’ll protect you, but you still can’t reveal your identity. Please put this on.”
—
After nightfall, Mercenary Street was filled with noise and the bustle of life.
All kinds of smells were captured by Yelena’s sense of smell. [Five Senses of the Chef God] activated accordingly.
[Detected high-concentration low-quality ale]
[Detected burnt meat skewers]
[Detected strong sadness emotion]
Yelena stopped walking. Seeing this, Anna moved closer to her.
Sadness?
In a tavern not far away, a drunken big man was pounding the table and shouting excitedly.
“Any of you! Who—hic—who can make me cry with a meal? I’ll give you ten gold coins!”
The tavern instantly filled with laughter.
“Morey, you’re this drunk, talking nonsense!”
“Bullshit!” The burly man pounded the table again.
“I’m the famous Iron Stomach of Antar City! I’ve eaten monster meat, gnawed gargoyle wings, and downed over a dozen jugs of dwarven strong ale!”
“Whoever can make me cry today, I’ll kneel and sing ‘Conquest’ for them!”
Yelena’s fox ears shot up under her black cloak. Ten gold coins?
She clutched the special small wok in her hands and decided to enter the tavern.
“Lady Yelena!!” Seeing this, Anna behind her jumped in anxiety and quickly grabbed her hand to stop her.
“Don’t stop me.” Yelena didn’t look back, her tone firm. “Fate is guiding me down this path.”
Anna had no choice. She couldn’t persuade her, so she had to let Yelena lead her into the tavern.
Yelena pushed open the creaky old door. The mercenaries inside all turned to look at her.
Under the opaque black robe, the girl only showed a pair of eyes. Her cherry lips parted slightly, but her presence was commanding.
“Does the ten gold coins still count?”
A-rank mercenary Morey turned his bleary eyes toward Yelena.
“You?”
She nodded in reply. “That’s right.”
Morey burst into loud laughter, pounding the table in front of him. When the laughter subsided, he continued.
“Little miss, that strange pot in front of you is even smaller than my shield. Can it fill my stomach?”
“The food I make will make you cry, and also make you kneel and sing ‘Conquest.’”
Yelena answered without hesitation. The tavern fell silent for a long moment.
In a corner, a dwarf mercenary sprayed out his ale, nearly washing the face of an old buddy across the table.
“Good one—small pot but a big mouth. Little girl, do you know who he is?” A member of Morey’s squad spoke up amid the laughter filling the room.
“He’s the A-rank mercenary Morey, known as the Iron Stomach! He’s eaten all kinds of bizarre and special foods. There aren’t many places in the whole city that can make a meal that satisfies him.”
For a moment, boos and whistles rose and fell.
Tables were slapped loudly. Morey also leaned over the table, approaching her.
The shadow cast by his over-two-meter-tall figure even covered Anna, who was shielding Yelena.
Yelena looked up at the tall man.
So big. One wok wasn’t enough to stew him.
“Big talk comes with a price,” Morey said sternly.
Yelena just blinked and replied crisply, “Pay the gold first, big brother.”
He was stunned. The onlookers behind him burst into laughter again, but Morey felt the woman in front of him wasn’t bluffing.
The wok she held was unusual, and she clutched it like it was a priceless treasure.
“Interesting! Boss lady—clear the kitchen for this little girl!” He placed ten gold coins on the tavern counter, then added teasingly,
“We mercenaries are regulars here. Since you’re so confident, I’ll warn you first. If you can’t make me cry with your food, you’ll wash everyone’s dishes and wipe the tables!”
Yelena walked into the kitchen and glanced at the mountain of wooden plates stacked in the corner.
Her calves felt a little weak…
But at this moment, she had to fight to the death. How could she surrender! So what!
“Deal!”
Anna followed close behind, calling out anxiously, “Lady Yelena! …”
Yelena looked at Anna and gave her a reassuring look through her robe.
Don’t worry. As long as the Sword Saint doesn’t notice anything odd, everything will be fine!
Yelena couldn’t keep her promise to Yvette. She decided to make [Soul-Stirring Rice] , breaking the rule against new dishes.
She ignored the crowd jeering outside the kitchen and focused on doing what she had to do.
[Ding, detected strong emotions from target diner: loneliness, longing, stubbornness, plus sadness numbed by alcohol. Captured. Can be infused into ingredients through magic.]
Yelena smoothly entered a state of flow. This was her battlefield.
Light the fire, pour oil, add minced onion into the pot.
Her wrist expertly lifted, and half a pot of rice somersaulted in the air, releasing the rich fragrance of fresh rice.
Finally, she added the char siu she had prepared earlier, then placed two sunny-side-up eggs on top of the rice.
The dwarf mercenary’s eyes went wide. Morey’s lackey swallowed hard. Even Morey’s own smile gradually faded.
The aroma wafting from that char siu rice seemed to carry something others didn’t understand.
It felt like long ago, when the old family door was pushed open, and someone called out for Morey to come wash his hands and eat…
As Yelena removed the wok from the stove, she sprinkled the last of the chopped herbs onto the dish.
[Soul-Stirring Rice · Homesickness Edition, complete. Added Emotional Induction: Sadness and Homesickness.]
Yelena carried the finished dish to Morey and said in a soft, playful voice, “You waited long enough. Time to eat~”
Morey picked up the wooden spoon with skepticism, scooped a big mouthful, and shoved it in.
Oh, mercy…
The savory juice of the char siu vibrated perfectly within the fibers, like rivers converging. And the tendons inside had all been properly broken down!
Just as Morey was about to marvel at the deliciousness, something “unexpected” happened.
Dozens of eyes were fixed on him, waiting for his reaction.
But at that moment, Morey was no longer there.
He felt as if he had returned to the year when he was twelve, forced to leave his hometown. His mother stood at the village entrance, tears in her eyes, reluctant to leave.
“Good child, don’t push yourself out there. Remember to come home if you’re tired!”
“Yes, Mom!”
…
As Morey ate, he lowered his head. The hand holding the spoon began to tremble, and the utensil clattered to the floor.
No warning, no hesitation.
“Mom… Mommy!!” Suddenly, the burly man in front of him burst into tears, various facial secretions pouring into the bowl.
“Huh?!”
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