CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
Three hundred six-foot-long Iron-Back Giant Centipedes scuttled down the muddy highway like a wave of clanking black-red armor plates.
Every centipede had a pair of curved venom-fangs as thick as sickles, dripping with green acid that hissed whenever a drop hit the gravel road. When a front-line Dry-Well soldier experimentally swung his Thunder-Grid Tennis Racket at the lead centipede—ZAP!—the purple lightning arc merely left a tiny white scorch mark on the creature’s thick iron carapace, making the centipede hiss angrily and snap at the bamboo handle!
“Hahaha! See that?!” General Centipede stood on his war-wagon, waving his blood-stained hand in triumph. “My Iron-Back Centipedes were raised on black iron ore and Hundred-Venom Grass for five years! Their shells are harder than Rank 3 steel shields, and their meat is soaked in paralyzing neurotoxin! Even if you chop them in half, the two halves will still crawl up your pants and bite your kneecaps off!”
Up on the roof of the lead supply wagon, Pei Xuan looked at the RTS System analysis box hovering over the charging centipedes:
“Wait a second,” Pei Xuan read the tooltip twice and laughed out loud. “Once you snip off the head and boil them with garlic and chili oil, they taste like sweet, bouncy deep-sea lobster tail?!”
“Of course they do, My Lord!” Boom-Pot Sun (“Pill-Crazy Sun”) shouted excitedly, his scorched gray beard trembling as he hopped up and down beside his bronze cauldron. “In the ancient Shennong Poison-Cooking Scroll, Rank 3 Iron-Back Centipedes are called ‘Hundred-Foot Land Prawns’! Normal chefs are too scared to cook them because their shells are too hard to crack and their venom-sacs explode if you use ordinary firewood! But with Old Guo’s Rank 4 Furnace-Blood wok skills and my alchemical vinegar-wash, three hundred six-foot centipedes is eighteen thousand pounds of top-grade medicinal crawfish meat!”
Beside him, Old Guo was already tying his thick chef’s headband tighter around his forehead, his eyes shining like two brass lanterns.
“Eighteen thousand pounds of land-lobster!” Old Guo boomed, slamming his hundred-pound black-iron wok onto the wagon deck with a deafening CLANG. “Every centipede has a hundred legs—that’s thirty thousand crispy drumstick-legs to deep-fry in salt and pepper, plus three hundred six-foot tubes of snow-white tail meat to simmer in Mala Garlic-Chili Hotpot! Young Master, don’t let General Tie smash them with hammers! If he flattens the shells, all the sweet juice inside will leak out into the mud!”
“General Tie! Hold your hammers!” Pei Xuan ordered into his brass megaphone. “Nobody smash the shells! Keep them whole and fresh for the kitchen!”
At the front of the infantry line, General Tie Zhan was halfway through lifting a four-hundred-pound iron war-hammer over his head. Hearing that the three hundred charging monsters were actually tonight’s dinner, Tie Zhan lowered his hammer in less than half a second and licked his lips.
“Brothers! Did you hear the Lord?!” Tie Zhan roared at his two thousand soldiers. “Don’t dent the shells! That’s tonight’s Mala Crawfish Banquet running toward us!”
“How do we catch three hundred six-foot iron bugs without denting them, General?!” yelled a front-row sergeant as the lead centipedes clattered within fifty yards of the line.
“Leave the prep work to me!” Pei Xuan smiled and opened the Fusion Cube.
Behind the infantry line sat the twenty Giant Vacuum Bug-Catcher Wagons, ten heavy iron field-kitchen carts, fifty barrels of sour Shanxi black grain-vinegar, and five hundred pounds of wild purple-skin garlic, dried red heaven-facing chilies, and numbing red peppercorns from Dry-Well City’s spice warehouse.
FLASH!
Golden light swept over the field-kitchen carts and vacuum wagons, fusing them into ten colossal, steam-powered Rolling Mala Hotpot & Vinegar-Vacuum Wagons!
Each wagon looked like a cross between an armored tank and a festival food truck. On the front sat two gleaming brass vinegar-sprayer nozzles and a three-foot-wide corrugated iron vacuum hose; in the middle sat a spinning glass washing-drum; and on the back sat a twelve-foot-wide, red-copper Two-Flavor Mandarin Duck Hotpot Cauldron boiling over roaring Furnace-Blood fire-stones!
Even before a single centipede went into the pot, the bubbling red broth—loaded with three hundred pounds of golden fried garlic, scarlet chili oil, star anise, rock sugar, and bone stock—sent a rich, mouth-watering, spicy-numbing aroma exploding across the entire battlefield!
GULP.
Not only did the two thousand Dry-Well soldiers swallow their saliva in unison, even the two thousand enemy Poison-Fang Infantry standing behind General Centipede sniffed the air and felt their stomachs rumble loudly. Duke Wu only fed his swamp soldiers cold salted turnips and boiled weed-gruel; none of them had smelled real beef-tallow chili oil and fried garlic in half a year!
“What are they boiling?!” General Centipede screamed, waving his bone sword frantically as the spicy aroma made his nose twitch. “Don’t sniff their cooking smoke! It must be anew kind of sneeze-poison! Iron-Back Centipedes, charge! Chew through their iron wheels!”
HISS—CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
The three hundred six-foot Iron-Back Centipedes surged forward in a terrifying red-black tide, rearing up their front thirty legs to snap their acid-dripping fangs at the ten Rolling Hotpot Wagons!
“Open the Vinegar Cannons!” Old Guo bellowed from the top of Hotpot Wagon Number One, wearing a tall white chef’s hat and working two brass levers like a ship captain. “Soften the shells and de-smell the mud!”
PSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!
Ten high-pressure jets of warm, golden-brown Armor-Melting Spirit Vinegar mixed with rice wine and crushed ginger sprayed out across the road!
The moment the sour vinegar mist hit the charging six-foot centipedes, a magical chemical reaction occurred right before everyone’s eyes.
FIZZZZZZZZ—SQUEAK!
The terrifying, sword-proof black-iron carapaces of the three hundred centipedes fizzed with white bubbles as the sour spirit-vinegar neutralized the alkaline iron-toxins in their shells!
Within three seconds, the hard black armor turned as bright, glossy red as cooked holiday lobsters—and softened to the texture of crispy fried tofu skin! Even worse for the centipedes, the warm rice-wine and ginger mixed into the vinegar spray soaked through their breathing pores, making all three hundred ferocious poison beasts instantly blind drunk!
“Hiss... hic!”
The lead six-foot centipede tried to snap its jaws at General Tie Zhan’s boot, missed by two feet, wiggled its hundred legs in a wobbly figure-eight dance, and flopped onto its back in the mud, kicking its soft red legs in the air like a ticklish puppy!
All across the road, three hundred terrifying six-foot poison monsters were rolling over, hiccuping tiny pink vinegar bubbles, and curling up into neat red rings!
“My Iron-Back Centipedes!” General Centipede’s voice cracked so high he sounded like a stepped-on rooster. “How did sour vinegar turn Rank 3 iron armor into soft red shrimp shells?!”
“Turn on the Giant Vacuum Bug-Catchers!” Boom-Pot Sun roared with laughter, slamming the big red suction button on the dashboard. “Suck ’em in, snip the heads, scrub the bellies, and drop ’em in the Mala broth!”
WHIRRRRRRRRR—SLUUUUUUURP!
Ten three-foot-wide iron vacuum hoses swung out from the front of the wagons and swept across the road!
THWUMP! THWUMP! THWUMP! THWUMP!
Just like someone slurping up thick udon noodles with a giant straw, the ten Giant Vacuum Bug-Catcher tubes sucked the three hundred drunken, six-foot red centipedes straight off the road one after another!
Inside the thick glass viewing chambers of the wagons, everyone on the battlefield could see the automated ten-step kitchen assembly line working at lightning speed:
1. SNIP-SNIP! Two rune-powered iron shears neatly clipped off the centipede’s poisonous head and tail-stinger, dropping the venom glands into Boom-Pot Sun’s sealed alchemy jars for later pill-refining. 2. WHOOSH-SCRUB! High-pressure Sweet-Spring water jets and spinning bamboo brushes scrubbed every speck of swamp mud off the hundred legs and flushed the creature’s digestive tract clean in two seconds flat. 3. CHOP-CHOP-CHOP! Automatic cleaver wheels scored diamond patterns across the soft red shell so the soup flavor could soak straight into the snow-white meat inside. 4. SPLASH!
The clean, segmented, six-foot lengths of snow-white “land-lobster” meat tumbled down the stainless iron chutes and plunged straight into the ten giant, bubbling Mala Garlic-Chili Hotpot Cauldrons!
SIIIIIIIIIIZZLE—!
On top of the ten wagons, Old Guo and nine assistant chefs wielded four-foot-long iron spatulas, stirring the giant cauldrons with Rank 4 Furnace-Blood strength.
“More minced garlic! Two more ladles of red chili oil! Toss in the dried bean-curd skin, lotus root slices, and fresh cilantro!” Old Guo sang out, flipping a twenty-pound chunk of bright red centipede meat three feet into the air so it caught the flames and landed back in the rich red broth with a fragrant splash.
And in the side woks attached to each wagon, Boom-Pot Sun was tossing thousands of clipped centipede legs into roaring vats of boiling peanut oil with minced garlic, green onions, and five-spice salt!
CRACKLE-SIZZLE!
Within fifteen minutes, the terrifying aroma that drifted across Silver-Fork Bridge and the southern highway was no longer poison miasma or corpse-mosquito stench.
It was the heavenly, mouth-watering, knee-weakening fragrance of Braised Mala Garlic-Chili Land-Lobster and Salt-and-Pepper Crispy Centipede Legs!
“Dinner is served!” Pei Xuan announced through his megaphone, picking up the first steaming wooden bowl of bright red Mala Centipede Hotpot and using his chopsticks to pull a thick, snow-white chunk of meat right out of the shell.
He blew on it once and took a big bite.
CRUNCH—JUICY!
The outer red shell was crispy and soaked in savory garlic-chili broth, while the thick white meat inside was firmer than crab leg, sweeter than river shrimp, and bursting with warm, tingling spirit energy that flowed straight from his stomach into his four limbs!
“Incredible!” Pei Xuan’s eyes lit up as he picked up a crispy salt-and-pepper centipede leg—which looked and tasted just like a crunchy deep-fried soft-shell crab claw—and crunched it down bones and all. “General Tie! Have the soldiers line up by squad! Everyone gets a full bowl of Mala Hotpot and ten crispy garlic legs! And pass out bowls to the seventy thousand southern villagers on the bridge too!”
“HOORAY FOR LORD PEI! HOORAY FOR CHEF GUO!”
Two thousand Dry-Well soldiers slung their electric tennis rackets onto their backs, pulled out the iron mess-bowls strapped to their belts, and lined up eagerly behind the ten Rolling Hotpot Wagons.
“Crack the shell down the middle and suck the garlic juice out first!” Old Guo instructed loudly, ladling huge scoops of steaming red lobster-like segments and lotus roots into General Tie Zhan’s basin-sized bowl.
General Tie Zhan grabbed a foot-long red segment with both hands, cracked the soft shell open, and slurped down a pound of snow-white meat in one bite.
BOOM!
A visible wave of warm crimson Qi puffed out of the top of Tie Zhan’s iron helmet as his face turned bright red with joy. “By the ancestors! It’s bouncy, spicy, numbing, and sweet! I can feel my meridians widening with every bite! Give me twenty more legs!”
Down the road, General Centipede sat slumped on his knees in the mud.
His three hundred beloved, terrifying Six-Foot Iron-Back Centipedes—the nightmare beasts that had made five counties wet their pants in terror for ten years—were currently sitting in wooden bowls, garnished with chopped green onions and sesame seeds, being happily crunched and slurped by thousands of soldiers and runaway farmers!
“My... my Little Red... my Iron-Tooth Number Seven...” General Centipede whimpered, tears cutting clean tracks through the soot and frog-spit on his tattooed cheeks as he watched a seven-year-old village girl crack open a centipede leg like a sunflower seed and giggle at how crunchy it was. “You monsters! You demons! Those are vicious Rank 3 Poison Insects! You’re supposed to run away screaming, not dip them in garlic vinegar!”
Behind General Centipede, his two thousand Poison-Fang Infantry soldiers couldn’t take it anymore.
They had marched all morning on an empty stomach, watched five million mosquitoes get zapped in ten minutes, and now had to stand twenty yards downwind of ten giant cauldrons of boiling Mala Garlic-Chili Hotpot while thirty thousand people smacked their lips and yelled about how good it tasted!
CLANG!
The scarred swamp captain right behind General Centipede threw his hooked halberd into the ditch, ripped off his crocodile-leather hood, and sprinted toward Hotpot Wagon Number Ten with both hands raised high in the air!
“I surrender! I defect! Lord Pei, I know how to dig ditches and I don’t eat much rice! Please just give me one bowl of that garlic-chili bug soup and two fried legs!”
“Wait for me, Captain! I’m surrendering too!” “We haven’t had meat since New Year’s! Down with Duke Wu! Long live Chef Guo’s Hotpot Wagon!”
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
In less than ten seconds, all two thousand of Duke Wu’s elite Poison-Fang Infantry threw their weapons into a neat pile by the roadside, lined up politely in single file at Abacus Su’s registration desk to put on yellow Probation Vests, and received a steaming wooden bowl of Mala Centipede Hotpot and two hot steamed buns each!
Only General Centipede was left sitting all alone in the middle of the muddy road.
General Tie Zhan and Old Guo walked over together. Tie Zhan clapped a heavy iron Qi-sealing collar around General Centipede’s neck, while Old Guo squatted down holding a large wooden bowl piled high with steaming, scarlet-shelled centipede tail meat and golden fried garlic.
“Kill me!” General Centipede squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away stubbornly, his Loyalty bar sitting at a miserable 10/100. “I am the Sworn Second Brother of the Poison Swamp! I raised those Iron-Back Centipedes from eggs with my own blood! I would rather bite my own tongue off than eat a single bite of my loyal—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Old Guo used a pair of long bamboo chopsticks to pick up a plump, fist-sized piece of snow-white centipede meat dripping with fragrant garlic-chili butter, and shoved it straight into General Centipede’s open mouth!
“Mmph?!”
General Centipede’s teeth clamped down reflexively.
CRUNCH—BURST!
Hot, savory, numbing-spicy broth mixed with sweet, caramelized wild garlic and impossibly tender, bouncy white meat exploded across General Centipede’s tongue!
General Centipede froze. His bloodshot eyes opened wider than copper gongs.
For ten years, he had slept in stinky mud holes, feeding his blood to ungrateful bugs that bit his fingers every morning and smelled like rotten fish. Never once in those ten years had it crossed his mind that if he washed them in vinegar and boiled them with garlic and chilies, they would taste like the food of the Immortal Emperor in Heaven!
Slowly, two fat tears rolled down General Centipede’s tattooed cheeks.
He chewed once. He chewed twice. He swallowed the meat, licked the chili oil off his lips, and then grabbed the wooden bowl out of Old Guo’s hands with both palms, burying his face in the soup like a starving dog!
“Slurp—crunch—sob! Little Red... why didn’t you tell me you tasted this good?!” General Centipede wept between huge mouthfuls of spicy meat. “And Number Twelve... your left front leg is so crispy! Chef Guo, do you have a little more of that sour garlic dipping sauce?! And another steamed bun to wipe the bowl?!”
Up on the command wagon, Pei Xuan burst out laughing as he watched the floating tooltip above General Centipede’s head spin like a pinwheel:
At the same time, with the two thousand surrendered Poison-Fang soldiers and tens of thousands more cheering villagers from Willow-Mist and Mud-Carp Counties pouring in to eat the hotpot feast, Pei Xuan’s daily point counter jumped once again!