Chapter Forty-Two: Serving Dishes

Yuan Xiaotian struggled to suppress the anger brewing inside him, his aged face taut as he snorted coldly, "Young man, don't be so arrogant. Just because you know a thing or two, don't think you can look down on everyone. If you ever run into someone you can't handle, you won't even know how you died."

A few henchmen nearby seized the chance to flatter, hurriedly chiming in, "Chairman, this kid doesn't know what's good for him, daring to contradict you. Not only are you not angry, you even educate him. Your generosity is as vast as the ocean. We truly admire you."

The flattery made Yuan Xiaotian thoroughly pleased.

"Haha, naturally. I have always won people over with virtue, and repay grudges with kindness. All right, our guest may be hungry—bring him some food," Yuan Xiaotian said, puffing on his cigar with a proud flourish, gesturing for his men to make arrangements.

Ling Tian felt a little puzzled. Although he had once been the king of mercenaries, fought on battlefields against all manner of ruthless enemies, he knew little about the underworld—his understanding limited to what he'd picked up as a high schooler in Yunhai City. So he had no idea what game the other side was playing, especially since they were talking about serving dishes.

But years of mercenary life had taught Ling Tian to stay calm and let things unfold. Besides, with such a bunch of small-time thugs, what tricks could they possibly pull?

Hearing the call for food, the henchmen grew excited—clearly, this was a stimulating spectacle that everyone anticipated.

As a well-informed taxi driver, Zhang Ding grew visibly tense upon hearing about the dishes. His gaze darted around nervously; clearly, he knew something. Before Ling Tian could ask, Zhang Ding leaned in and whispered, "Yuan Xiaotian often does this, and it always works. Everyone who’s been through it ended up obedient."

Ling Tian grew a touch more interested. It seemed this tactic carried some intimidation. "Do you know what 'serving dishes' means?"

Zhang Ding shook his head. "I've only heard about it, never seen it myself."

Well, that was as good as not saying anything.

Still, Ling Tian became more curious. He’d learned many tricks during missions, and wanted to see what these petty thugs could possibly come up with.

Yuan Xiaotian noted Ling Tian's calm demeanor, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile. He thought to himself, "Let him act tough for a few seconds; soon, I'll have him wetting his pants."

Less than a minute later, the henchmen, already prepared, entered carrying a tray. On the tray were two bowls of strong liquor—the scent was potent even from afar. There was also a Nepalese kukri, elegantly crafted, its blade edged with a faint blue temper line, clearly sharpened.

Ling Tian frowned slightly. The scene suggested a blood oath, but that had no place here. What exactly was this old thug up to?

The first bowl was placed in front of Ling Tian; the second bowl and the kukri were set before Yuan Xiaotian.

Ling Tian sniffed the liquor—good stuff, no poison—then remarked, "Are you planning for me to drink while watching you commit suicide?"

Yuan Xiaotian's eyes bulged with rage, but he ultimately held back, waving off his men who were ready to act. With a contorted expression he said, "Kid, newborn calves are fearless because they've never seen real danger. Today, I'll show you what a real spectacle looks like."

Ling Tian lifted the bowl, took a hefty swig, wiped his mouth, and laughed, "Good liquor. But when is your performance going to start?"

Yuan Xiaotian shot Ling Tian a cold glare, then beckoned to a fair-skinned, pure-looking woman at the door. She hurried over, speaking in a coquettish tone, "Big brother, I'm here."

She sat beside Yuan Xiaotian. He reached to lift her skirt, his other hand gripping the kukri.

Ling Tian was even more puzzled. Lifting the skirt was predictable; Yuan Xiaotian was obviously a lecher. But what was he doing with the kukri? Was he planning to slice off her clothes, like in those infamous films, for some twisted pleasure? This old pervert had guts—to be thinking of women in this setting.

But really, this wasn't the right occasion. Did the old pervert want to show off his prowess in seducing women?

While Ling Tian was lost in speculation, Yuan Xiaotian lifted the woman's short skirt, exposing her pale, tender thigh. The woman shivered instinctively, clearly frightened.

"Relax, you won't die. You'll get a hundred thousand after this," Yuan Xiaotian said gruffly, squeezing her thigh hard.

The pain made the woman grimace, but she endured, not daring to cry out. She nodded gently, already anticipating what was to come, biting her lip and closing her eyes.

Yuan Xiaotian grinned wickedly. The knife fell, and a strip of bloody flesh dropped onto the table—about five centimeters long, one centimeter wide. Blood gushed from the woman's thigh.

Yuan Xiaotian grew excited at the sight of blood. "Tender meat, very nice! Someone, bandage her up and let her watch from the side."

Bandaging the woman's thigh was a coveted task. A crowd of men rushed forward, crowding around her and taking advantage of the opportunity.

Ling Tian could no longer bear it. This was outright abuse, inhuman cruelty—Yuan Xiaotian was truly despicable.

Just as Ling Tian was about to speak, Yuan Xiaotian piped up, "Ling Tian, the meat from a beauty is delicious. Would you like to try?" With that, he ordered the flesh to be placed before Ling Tian.

Humans are strange creatures, mad for meat—to the point where a meal without it feels incomplete. But when it comes to eating human flesh, most are utterly repulsed; even a glance brings nausea and fear. Let alone watching fresh flesh sliced from a living person.

This was why Yuan Xiaotian’s trick never failed. Before anyone even tasted it, the sight alone was enough to terrify.

Everyone focused their gaze on Ling Tian, eager to see if this previously cocky young man would be scared witless. Zhang Ding was so anxious he shut his eyes, unable to look.

Yuan Xiaotian laughed triumphantly, "I'm a generous host. For friends, there's always meat and wine."

"This kid's already scared stiff, can't even move."

"No surprise—how many has the boss intimidated with this trick? Even those big-time gangsters wouldn’t dare eat it, let alone a greenhorn like him."

The henchmen whispered among themselves, waiting for Ling Tian's reaction.

Yuan Xiaotian roared, "Go on, are you too scared to eat?"

Ling Tian picked up the strip of flesh, stuffed it into his mouth, and began chewing slowly, praising as he ate, "Not bad, very fresh. Meat freshly cut is indeed delicious." He swallowed, drained his bowl of liquor, wiped his mouth, and laughed loudly, "Refreshing! Another bowl!"

At this sight, the previously rowdy atmosphere froze, as if encased in ice.

Those who had mocked Ling Tian fell silent, staring at him in shock as if he were some monster. Yuan Xiaotian's sneer froze on his face—he stared dumbly at Ling Tian.

He actually ate it—worse, he chewed slowly as if savoring the flavor. Was this even human?

Ling Tian cast a scornful glance at Yuan Xiaotian. He’d expected more, but found only these petty tricks. When Ling Tian had carried out missions in Central Asia, surrounded by desert with no food or water, to survive he drank his own urine—then, when there was none left, led his squad to eat raw enemy flesh and drink their blood.

Compared to those experiences, this was barely a drizzle.