The Universe Is Innately Just 56 Loud Grumbles

He took a few steps in his kitchen and opened his cupboard. He took out a large cauldron shaped pot, filled it with water; he then lit up the electric plate and started boiling the water. At the same time, he began preparing the steaks. He took a bowl and mixed salt, pepper, oil, lemon juice, soy sauce, garlic and several herbs. He left it to marinate on the side, then threw the peeled potatoes in the metallic pot.

He then opened several cupboards in a row, looking for a frying pan large enough to cook all the steaks he had prepared. He finally found one large enough, and put it on the electric plate before adding oil to the base.

He waited for the oil to attain a high enough temperature, then softly put each steak on the pan. As time pa.s.sed, he adjusted the sides of the steaks to make the roasting even. Compared to before, he did not fear the temperature of the oil nor did he fear getting burned by the blazing hot pan. His left hand was firmly grasped around the frying panhandle, and he was using his other hand to flip the steaks using his fingers.

His sharp senses made it possible for him to pinpoint the precise temperature where the steaks inside wouldn't harden. It was the contrary, the fat in the steak cuts was melting, rendering and mixing with the oil. The several condiments he added were also mixing their flavors with the meat. His nose was picking an anthology of flavor through his nostrils; He could practically taste the meat by smelling it. He began salivating as he antic.i.p.ated the tantalizing taste.

Noticing that it was enough. He took all of the steak pieces on a silvery-white plate and switched off the fire. He let the steaks rest for a few minutes to maximize the juice inside the meat. Grabbing his Santoku, his wrist flicked and after a few breaths; The beef steaks turned into fine slices of meat. They looked juicy and tender, and they lightly fumed under the kitchen's soft light.

He nodded with satisfaction as he wasn't that confident in nailing such a large-scale cuisine. But it went without any mishap, and the result in front of him made his stomach release a terrifying grumble. He stopped himself from ravaging the meat plate and continued preparing his dinner.

While advancing toward the pot that was containing the boiled potatoes, his feet stopped in his track as he looked at the ceiling. "Will it be enough for the both of us?", he thought about the Young Official that was on the other side of the wall while eying the dinner that was in preparation.

"Guess I will be a little bit more reserved tonight…" he decided before resuming his duty. He emptied the pot's water in the sink, leaving only the stack of fuming golden-colored boiled potatoes. Throwing a handful of salt and pepper and some b.u.t.ter to the mix, he then began crus.h.i.+ng them. With a few motions of his limbs, the boiled potatoes were turned into a mash.

He nodded satisfying before leaving the kitchen. He swiftly traversed his apartments to look at Wind's condition; He licked his lips as he walked, having cooked awakened his hunger. He felt that if he didn't control himself, he might wolf down all the food that he prepared.

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But, to his disappointment Wind didn't show any sign of waking up. He was sitting on the couch, looking straight at the wall in front of him. His eyes, blank and dead, didn't seem to look at our world as he delved in his abyssal thinking. As time went on and as Fell kept his senses close to Wind to monitor him, He began noticing a change.

The change happened in Wind's eyes. As time pa.s.sed on, Wind's eyes turned into a strange commodity. They began losing their cloudiness, but at the same time; The dark and dead vibe that was in Wind grew in power.

"Finally!", he gasped softly as he focused on what was happening in front of him, "Although I have pa.s.sed this step, there is always a benefit in seeing how others do. I might learn something interesting."; The road of cultivation, broad and large, wasn't confined in a single way. The path was numerous; thus, an individual's own creativity was important when it came to cultivation.

Although, not all cultivators went through grand and mysterious paths. But, inside of normality was a speck of originality. Cultivators were like gra.s.s, similar in the form but completely different in their core.