Chapter 41: The Blood Meridian, The Scapegoat Woman

Lesser exotic beasts dwell above the Blood Vein Earth, absorbing its sanguine aura year after year. With a minuscule chance, they undergo aberration, giving rise to the rare heart meat of metamorphosis. This time, a beast belonging to the Zhou clan of Qingyang City experienced such a change.

Of course, possessing the material alone is not enough; a martial chef is also required. The Eighteen Paths of Bone Infusion demand the use of various spiritual herbs and intricate steps throughout the cooking process. It is an arduous task, fraught with complexity—one misstep could ruin the precious ingredients and waste all previous efforts.

Ordinary martial chefs, even with all the materials at hand, face exceedingly low chances of success. Only a master martial chef can boast a probability of nearly eighty percent. The Zhou clan, renowned as a family of martial cuisine, happens to have such a master chef. It is worth noting that throughout the entire Li’an Commandery, only two master martial chefs exist. The other belongs to the Wei clan, a gate of grandmasters.

With ten pounds of metamorphic heart meat, a master chef can prepare eight portions of the rare Nine-Segment Heart Meat. This coveted delicacy stirs greed among all nearby martial marquis clans.

The Zhou clan had originally intended to conceal the existence of the metamorphic heart meat and enjoy it in secret. Yet somehow, the news leaked, and the clans converged like flies drawn to the scent of blood. The Zhou’s hopes of monopolizing the feast were dashed.

Moreover, the Zhou clan’s strength had waned over the years. Ever since their elder ancestor passed away from exhaustion of life span, only two martial marquises remained. For two marquises to claim so much Nine-Segment Heart Meat was impossible.

Under mounting pressure, the Zhou clan reluctantly announced that if eight portions were successfully prepared from the ten pounds, five would be auctioned, keeping three for themselves.

The Liu clan regarded this event with utmost importance, setting out to compete for the Nine-Segment Heart Meat. After all, a single portion carried a fifty percent chance of producing a martial marquis. If they could acquire two portions, their likelihood of raising a marquis would be substantial. For a martial marquis clan, such a figure could tip the scales of power, allowing the Liu clan to surpass the Wu clan decisively.

That day, Lu Yan returned home to inform Lu Qingshan and Wang Cui that he would be traveling for official business and might be away for some time, so they would not worry. After packing, they set out the next morning.

At the head of the group was Liu Yuansong, the clan elder and martial marquis of the Liu family. Accompanying him were seven clansmen and six retainers, all skilled martial artists, plus three squads of Scarlet Guards. Without question, this was a formidable force.

Of note was the Seventh Squad, which, after the deaths of Sun Xiang and Meng Qi, had suffered a gap in strength but was now replenished. The captain was a branch clansman of Liu, stronger than Sun Xiang, with five breakthroughs—a candidate for training among the Scarlet Guards. The two vice-captains were a newly recruited expert with four breakthroughs and a promoted member with three. The overall strength of the Seventh Squad now surpassed its previous state.

“Let’s move out,” Liu Yuansong commanded. Nearly fifty martial experts mounted their warhorses and rode toward Qingyang City.

They had barely left the city when a thunderous rumbling arose from another direction, like an army charging forth. Faces tightening, they halted and stood ready.

Soon, a group of riders approached.

“It’s the Wu clan,” Lu Yan thought.

At the forefront was a towering elder, standing over two meters tall, broad and bear-like—a martial marquis of the Wu clan whom Lu Yan had seen before at Giant Fang Mountain. Behind him rode mainly Wind Patrol Guards, their numbers matching those of the Liu clan.

Clearly, the Wu clan’s destination was also Qingyang City.

“Liu Yuansong, we’ll take the lead, hah!” bellowed the Wu marquis, laughing heartily as he spurred his horse and his followers thundered past.

“What use is arriving early in Qingyang? They can’t buy ahead of time,” Liu Yuansong remarked coolly. Once the Wu clan had moved on, he ordered their advance.

Qingyang City lay north of Changfeng City, about one hundred eighty li away—not far. Even with stops along the way, they arrived by midday.

From afar, the city appeared. Its layout differed from Changfeng City; while three sides were similar, the eastern gate opened onto a mountain range. Stepping outside the gate meant entering the mountains directly.

As they neared, they saw the range was slender, like a coiled dragon, shrouded in a faint blood-red mist that enveloped it, lending an eerie, mysterious atmosphere.

“So this is the Blood Vein Earth—the Zhou clan’s domain,” Lu Yan mused.

He was no longer the bewildered youth who had first crossed into this world. Years among the Scarlet Guards had deepened his understanding.

The Blood Vein Earth forms the foundation of the gate clans’ world. The main ingredient for martial cuisine—exotic beasts—live upon it. Only by absorbing the aura that emanates from the veins can these beasts grow, their meat gaining wondrous properties. Without the Blood Vein, a gate clan could not raise exotic beasts, losing its core and facing inevitable decline.

Changfeng City’s environs also boast two veins, one north and one south, claimed by the Liu and Wu clans. They built fortresses upon the veins, stationed martial troops, and placed powerful guardians. The veins are the true heart of the clans.

Unlike Qingyang, where the vein connects directly to the city, Changfeng’s veins lie over ten li distant, with the city nestled between them. The Scarlet Guards, like Lu Yan, had no access to the Liu clan’s vein.

The Liu clan had dispatched people days earlier to Qingyang, renting a vast estate and hiring over a dozen servants for chores. Thus, their arrival was met with immediate lodging—very convenient.

Liu Yuansong, upon reaching Qingyang, took two clansmen to pay respects to the Zhou clan.

“Lu Yan, I’ve been to Qingyang before—it’s a bustling place. The Zhou clan is famed for martial cuisine, so the city boasts several restaurants specializing in it, their flavors unmatched. Shall we try some?” Wang Lin suggested.

“Let’s go!” Lu Yan, naturally, was keen to sample martial cuisine.

Wang Lin also invited two familiar faces from the Seventh Squad, and the four set out together. On the streets, they occasionally encountered martial experts—some bearing swords, others robust and imposing, their aura thick and powerful. Clearly, many martial marquis clans had arrived.

Zhou Martial Cuisine—a straightforward name—was obviously established by the Zhou clan and was the largest restaurant in Qingyang. Like the Martial Guest House, it had five floors: the lower three serving ordinary fare, the fourth and fifth offering martial cuisine.

The four went straight to the fifth floor, finding most seats already occupied. Lu Yan glanced around and was immediately drawn to one table.

There sat a lone girl, sixteen or seventeen, with an almond-shaped face, large expressive eyes, and exquisitely delicate features. Even after seeing countless beauties online, Lu Yan felt few could rival her.

Yet it was not her looks that caught his attention, but her attire. She wore a fitted martial outfit, modified to reveal snow-white arms and long, slender legs. Most striking of all, strapped to her back was a pitch-black iron pot, with a spatula tucked beside it.

Such an ensemble drew the eyes of many, not just Lu Yan.

The girl, unfazed, ate slowly from two plates of martial cuisine at her table. Her pretty face alternated between puzzlement, delight, and slight frowns as she tasted.

“Gentlemen, Zhou Martial Cuisine usually limits purchases, but with so many guests, we’ve relaxed the restriction—each person may buy two portions,” announced a middle-aged man resembling a manager.

“Then two portions each,” Wang Lin replied heartily.

Soon, two different dishes were served to each, about a pound per portion—signature offerings of Zhou Martial Cuisine: Braised Flying Antelope Leg and Hundred-Boiled Blood Beef.

Lu Yan tasted a piece of braised antelope leg, savoring it carefully. The exquisite flavor blossomed across his palate, making his eyes light up.

“Even better than the Martial Guest House’s cuisine,” Lu Yan exclaimed in admiration.

Martial cuisine varies by ingredients and exotic beast, each dish offering vastly different tastes.

“The Zhou clan is renowned for martial cuisine, having produced generations of master chefs. Their dishes are naturally exceptional,” Wang Lin agreed.

Just then, Lu Yan noticed two tall, lean men approaching the beautiful girl, their eyes alight with fervor.