"Ugh, smells like wet socks. Is this what I signed up for? Heavens, couldn't you throw in a salt cheat along with the ammo?" He grumbled while poking the fire.
Determined to improve his culinary masterpiece, Lin Feng thought for a moment. "What if?"
He stood up and ran in the direction he came from and after some minutes later he returned with a handful of sour berries, the same ones he tried earlier. He held one up, inspecting it like a jewel.
"Hmm... can't be worse than what I have now," he muttered before tossing a few into the bubbling pot. The sour smell hit his nose immediately.
"Whoa! Too much!" He frantically tried to scoop them out with a stick but ended up mashing them instead, turning the broth a murky pink. "Great. Now it looks like I'm cooking someone's insides."
Refusing to give up, Lin Feng ran back again and returned with the bland fleshy fruit he tried earlier.
"Eh. Tastes like wet paper," he remarked, chewing thoughtfully. "Perfect starch for the soup!"
He peeled and chopped the fruit with his mouth, dumping chunks into the pot. The water thickened slightly as the fruit dissolved, giving the soup a more stew-like consistency.
Lin Feng leaned over the pot, stirring carefully with a stick. He scooped a bit with his fingers and cautiously tasted it. His face twisted into a grimace.
"Blegh! Tastes like mud." He paused, tapping his chin. "Maybe... more berries?"
Several rounds of experimentation followed. Too many berries made it too sour. Too much fruit turned it into a paste. At one point, he accidentally dropped a dried tree bark into the pot, fished it out, and still considered tasting it.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Lin Feng stirred the bubbling mixture, the fish already vanished into a thick paste, and took a tentative sip. His eyes widened.
"Wait... this is... actually good!" He laughed, slapping his knee. "Lin Feng, you culinary genius!
He scooped a hearty portion into a bowl and settled down on a rock. The rich, tangy, slightly thick soup warmed him from the inside. Despite its rough beginnings, it turned out to be the best meal he'd had since arriving in this strange world.
"Ahhh," he sighed contentedly, patting his stomach after finishing every last drop. "That hit the spot. Who knew I had a future as a chef? Maybe I'll start a restaurant if this whole Isekai Protagonist thing doesn't pan out."
But as his gaze wandered, it landed once more on the blackened remains of the burned hut. The warmth in his chest faded, replaced by a somberness.
With a sad expression he stared at the charred ruins. The memories came flooding back—his sect brothers and sisters, the betrayal, the wolves.
Lin Feng swallowed hard, gripping his empty bowl tightly. "I'm sorry, guys," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I really am."
He sat there for a while, the sun beginning its descent in the sky, his earlier joy now overshadowed by guilt and sorrow.
Eventually, he stood up, stretched, and packed away his pot and supplies. "Alright, no more moping," he said, forcing a small, determined smile. "You guys wouldn't want me crying over soup, right? I'll make it out of here... for all of us."
With that, Lin Feng turned to walk away. However, a general morbid curiosity gripped him.
Not sure what he was expecting it but he wanted to see what's left after burning all it.
Lin Feng approached the burnt hut, his steps heavy. The forest was quiet, except for the crunch of burnt wood beneath his feet.
He felt sick, imagining what he'd find. But when he reached the center, he saw no bones, no ashes, Instead, he found a pile of fur.
Lin Feng's brow furrowed. "What is this?" he asked.
The fur was untouched, like new, despite the last night fire. His instincts warned him, and he drew his revolver. He kept his distance, scanning for danger.
Lin Feng picked up a stick and poked the fur cautiously. It shifted but didn't react. He jabbed it again, harder. The pile collapsed, deflating like an empty sack.
"This is a fur skin," Lin Feng realized, his pulse quickening.
He kept his revolver aimed on the pile and took another step forward. "If this thing's alive, I won't die to it," he muttered.
Lin Feng poked the pile again. Nothing moved, so he crouched down. He set the stick aside and reached out nervously. The fur felt soft and cold.
Underneath, the fur was leathery and hollow, coated with a shiny residue. Lin Feng's stomach turned.
"What is this?" he whispered.
He searched the ground for clues but found nothing. No bones, no ashes, just the eerie fur skin.
Lin Feng stood, his gaze fixed on the fur.
"Where are the skeletons? Where are the trashy weapons?" he murmured. He remembered not taking those trashy weapons and let them burn with the corpses.
He took a step back, the fur still clutched in his hand. His instincts screamed at him to leave.
"This doesn't make sense," he said.
Lin Feng looked around, expecting something unexpected. But the forest remained still.
He looked down at the hollow fur, feeling nervous and fear.
"Something's weird here," he muttered. "This place is cursed?"
He took another step back, his eyes darting nervously around the burnt pillars.
Lin Feng turned the fur over in his hands, his expression flickering between confusion and disbelief.
The furskin, the leather unfolded into an overcoat-like cape, its edges jagged as if torn from a beast. Black and gray fur shimmered with an ominous aura, but the hood was what made him pause.
"Is this... a wolf head?" He squinted at the snarling face complete with gleaming fangs along the jawline. The bristling fur seemed ready to come alive, ready to pounce.
"Who makes this stuff? Edgelords of the Martial World?" Lin Feng muttered, holding it at arm's length. "Great, now I look like I'm auditioning for 'Brooding Anti-Hero Template No. 37.'