Mysteries of Immortal Puppet Master

The role Ning Zhuo played at this moment was one that Mu Lan couldn’t. By easing relations with Shuangjing, Sun Gan, and the others, he was also representing a thawing of hostilities between the Red Flower Camp, White Jade Camp, and Golden Halberd Army. Mu Lan knew this was a wise move and was pleased to see it happen.

Liu Er felt quite uncomfortable inside!

The fine wine had turned into a bitter drink; the more spirited Ning Zhuo was, the more resentment grew inside him.

Liu Er struggled to keep himself in check, reminding himself that Ning Zhuo was not his enemy but one of his own! He should be more magnanimous.

Seeing Mu Lan’s gaze towards Ning Zhuo, a sharp pang hit him hard.

He started to feel irritated again!

He had no choice but to shift his gaze to his second and third brothers and noticed that Guan Hong and Zhang Hei had complex expressions and were quite constrained.

Liu Er felt a slight shock in his heart and immediately realized that something was wrong.

“Things have already been done, and it’s too late to turn back. We can’t let the second brother, third brother, and the military adviser become disheartened and disloyal.”

“The military adviser is the purse of our Three Generals Camp. If there’s internal strife, the combat power of the Three Generals Camp will also be greatly weakened!”

This was not what Liu Er wanted to see.

Liu Er then covertly transmitted his divine sense to reassure Guan Hong and Zhang Hei, explaining that his pursuit of Mu Lan and the so-called love at first sight were just excuses. His real intention was to seek alliance and transcend his mixed-blood status to utilize the support of the Upper General Mansion to become a high-level figure and acquire connections at court.

“Now, with the military adviser chosen as husband, it’s also a victory for our Three Generals Camp!”

“In terms of the outcome, we’ve triumphed over Shuangjing, Sun Gan, and even Ma Liangcai, achieving a great victory!”

With Liu Er’s words of encouragement, Zhang Hei’s tensed face came alive. Guan Hong’s movements became less stiff, and he slowly extended his hand to stroke his beard.

The waiter presented the last main course.

When the platter was lifted, there was a blazing flame.

As the fierce flame burned, a rich fragrance spread rapidly, soon filling the entire room.

Remarkably, the chicken meat remained intact despite being enveloped in flames.

When the flames extinguished, everyone clearly saw that it was not chicken, but bird meat.

Shuangjing’s expression was complex as he praised, “This is a dish made primarily of Fire Feather Perch Bird named ‘Flame Aroma’!”

“It uses dry chili, star anise, cinnamon, herbs, honey, orange peel, purple cabbage, pepper powder, sea salt, and other condiments, seasoned with soy sauce, minced garlic, honey, and juice squeezed from oranges.”

“A spell is used to summon a spirit flame to burn, ensuring that the seasoning and condiments completely permeate the bird meat, unifying into one.”

“The meat of the Fire Feather Bird, originally tough and flavorless, undergoes a drastic transformation through this cooking process, resulting in a delicacy one will never forget!”

Everyone tasted the dish in turn, all nothing but compliments.

The rich layers of spicy, fragrant, sweet, and numbing flavors delivered a powerful impact on the palate.

This was the weaving of fire and aroma!

The bird meat became tender and smooth under the coating of honey, while the roast and the fiery sauce complemented each other, conveying to the diners a sense of transformation from the ordinary to the extraordinary.

For Liu Er and Guan Hong, who tasted such luxurious fare for the first time, complex emotions surged from within as they savored it.

Shuangjing, consuming the bird meat and gazing toward Ning Zhuo, expressed his complex emotions with a low chant:

“The feathers red as flames illuminate the rosy light,”

“The aroma penetrates bones and intoxicates one’s gut.”

“When shall the common bird ascend the branch and transform,”

“Soaring into the clouds, unfurling its nine chapters.”

This poem was about the delicacy, Ning Zhuo, and even about himself.

After reciting the lines, this noble’s son drained the wine in his cup and stood up with diminishing interest.

“I am drunk.”

“Gentlemen, until next time.”

He turned and left, stepping across the windowsill and onto a patch of light cloud, his sleeves billowing as he disappeared into the solitude of the night sky.

Shuangjing’s poem rendered the banquet’s atmosphere a void.