Although Fang Hong was skeptical about whether becoming an Invoker in this world had anything to do with physical growth and nutrition, the care of the Elf Miss still gave him a faint warmth, reminiscent of his time at his uncle's house.
After he finished his soup, he used a piece of bread to wipe the bowl clean, staring at the empty wooden bowl in his hand for a long time. When he was with the Morning Dawn Star, there were no cooks in the Adventure Group, and Miss Sicape would never deign to undertake such a task; thus, they resorted to drawing lots. Whether it was bad luck or something else, he ended up cooking eight out of every ten days.
However, what he cooked could only rightly be called swill. He still didn't understand why the simplest ingredients and methods could produce something so vastly different in quality.
"Are you full, Ade?" Atira sat opposite him, watching intently as he finished his soup, her emerald eyes filled with a gentle expression.
