From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

Just then:

"What the hell is going on so early in the morning?! Who's messing around with this junk so early in the morning?!" A furious shout suddenly came from the neighboring courtyard.

"Can't a person get any sleep?!"

Zhao Gui, still half-asleep, pushed open the window and shouted, "Are you in such a hurry to be reincarnated...?"

The word "成" was cut short before it even landed.

Zhao Gui glanced over and bumped right into Zhu Hong. He didn't say anything, just stood there, his gaze indifferent as he looked up at him.

"Yes, it's Brother Zhu Hong?"

Zhao Gui's angry expression froze instantly, and he forced an awkward smile. "Good morning! So... you're just stretching your muscles?" His tongue seemed to have a hard time cooperating with him.

"Okay, okay... You're busy, please do as you please."

Before he could finish speaking, he recoiled as if his backside was on fire, quickly pulling his head back and slamming the window shut.

"Oh."

Upon seeing this, Zhu Hong let out a soft chuckle:

"The ocean's waves are shallow, but a petty person's mind is deep."

The world is the same everywhere: once a power becomes strong, those petty scoundrels who used to bar their teeth and claws will hide their tails and cower.

Back at his lodgings, his gaze fell on the wall.

The large, skinless tiger leg hanging high was left behind by Wang Zhenshan and his group when they moved the demon corpse yesterday. It's an unwritten rule:

Eat the meat and leave the broth, so as not to give others cause for gossip.

Zhu Hong strode forward, picked up a boning knife, and deftly sliced ​​off a large piece of tiger meat. He then turned and walked to the earthen stove.

Light the fire, set up the pot, and scoop water into the cauldron.

Without cinnamon, star anise, or other seasonings, I simply pinched off a small amount of coarse salt and sprinkled it into water.

"Sigh, we're really broke." Even with tiger meat in the pot, all that could be seen was bland, watery liquid, and he couldn't help but mutter to himself:

"Hopefully, the description of tiger stench won't be included in the category of 'evil beasts'."

When one is well-fed and warm, one thinks of lustful desires.

Once they have confidence, who would be willing to go back to eating the same old pig and dog food?

After the firewood in the stove was completely removed, the pot soon began to bubble and steam, and the white steam carried a rich aroma of meat.

"It smells...not bad."

Zhu Hong's eyes lit up. He moved a low stool and sat down next to the stove, waiting for the meat to cook.

Practicing martial arts is extremely taxing on one's vital energy and blood, especially a style like "Tiger Crouching on the Mountain" that physically and mentally exhausts one's strength and muscles. Every exertion of force, every movement of qi and blood, is both honing one's foundation and emptying one's core. Without solid foundation to replenish it, one cannot develop kung fu; one will collapse first.

This demonic tiger had "mastered the art of flesh cultivation," its body brimming with vitality and blood, its skin and flesh smooth and supple, and the essence it had accumulated was far beyond that of ordinary livestock.

It is a superior blood food that nourishes the body and replenishes deficiencies.

Pork, mutton, and beef are not even worthy of carrying shoes.

About half an hour later, the meat in the pot was stewed until tender, the broth was thick and white, and a layer of clear oil floated on top.

"Now, it looks decent enough."

Zhu Hong stood up, picked up a rough porcelain bowl, and with a flick of his chopsticks, grabbed a large piece.

He didn't care that it was hot; he quickly blew two puffs of white steam onto the rim of the bowl before opening his mouth and tearing off a piece.

"Mmm..." Zhu Hong swallowed a mouthful of hot meat, his throat bobbing.

"It looks mushy, but it's actually quite firm when you bite into it."

The meat fibers are coarse and tough, requiring considerable force to tear. As you chew, a rich, meaty aroma emerges, mingled with the salty savory flavor of coarse salt, lingering on the tongue.

So, as for the taste...

"It's not bad, the ingredients are really good. It's a pity," Zhu Hong finished his bowl in a few bites, weighing the options in his mind:

"Without the seasoning of scallions, ginger, and cooking wine, it lacks freshness and aroma. In the end, it is just a nourishing food to fill the stomach and replenish qi and blood, and it is still a bit short of the word 'delicious'."

Wait, how did it become gossip?

If there's food to eat, then it's not bad!

"Why bother with scallions, ginger, and cooking wine?" He wiped his mouth and immediately began to devour his food, oil dripping down his chin.

"Eat meat while you can, lest you be left with nothing but chaff."

After eating several pounds of tiger meat, it transformed into a surge of heat, instantly dispelling the soreness and fatigue from practicing boxing, and giving me a sudden burst of energy.

"As expected of a tiger that has become a demon, its essence is truly delicious."

Zhu Hong pounded his chest hard, touched his flushed face, and said with satisfaction:

"One more, please!" Before he finished speaking, he picked up the bowl and gulped down the last mouthful of soup.

"belch--"

He let out a satisfying burp and slammed the bowl down on the stone table with a thud.

"That's about it." Zhu Hong glanced at the sunlight outside the courtyard, a calculating look flashing in his eyes:

"Today I'll first pay a visit to Uncle Liu and then inquire about Jianba's information." After a moment's thought, he took down the long sword hanging on the wall and walked towards the huge tiger leg hanging on the wall.

"laugh."

With a flash of the knife, a piece of leg meat fell, estimated to weigh ten pounds.

Zhu Hong took a piece of yellow paper that had been coated with a thin layer of wax, wrapped the meat in it, and then wrapped it with two layers of hemp rope.

"Give me a peach, and I will repay you with a plum."

He carried the meat bun, his mind clear.

A glass of water is as precious as gold when you're thirsty, but tasteless when you're not. A ray of sunshine feels incredibly warm when you're cold, but unbearably hot when you're hot.

The same applies to people.

The kindness shown in times of need is far more precious than the kindness shown in times of prosperity. Even if that bag of rice ultimately proves useless.

Zhu Hong chuckled softly and muttered to himself:

"This tiger meat is very nourishing. We should send it to Uncle Liu's family to help them recover and also to express our gratitude for their kindness."

……

"Gone?"

"I'm gone."

Two figures huddled behind a haystack in the corner of the neighboring courtyard.

Zhao Gui clung to the crack in the wall, his neck stretched out, his eyes fixed on the direction where Zhu Hong had disappeared into the snowstorm. His wife, Madam Ma, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pressed him further into the haystack, and scolded him in a low voice:

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Stretching your neck that long, like you're afraid he'll turn around and see you!"

"What is Zhu Hong carrying?" Zhao Gui shrank back sheepishly, exhaling a puff of white breath as he rubbed his hands together.

"It's bulging; could it be something valuable?"

"Who cares what he is!" Madam Ma spat. "That brat's out now, aren't you going?"

"Go, why wouldn't you go?" Zhao Gui straightened up, patted his shoulders and back to brush away the snowflakes, "...Besides," as if trying to save face in front of his wife, his previous timidity suddenly vanished:

"Does having him around mean I can't leave the house?" he retorted, his neck stiff.

"Just now, I was merely probing what he was up to."

"Alright, alright," Ma said, pouting and rolling her eyes. "Hurry up and get on with it. You're just trying to act tough in front of me."

"Let's go!"

Zhao Gui ignored her sarcasm and simply waved his hand arrogantly at Madam Ma:

"I'll call my older brother over."

……