Heilong-kou (Black Dragon-Mouth/Pass)
Heilong-cheng (Black Dragon-City)
Censorate (Supervisory Court)
Yuling City (Jade City)
Jingui Town (Golden Turtle Town)
Xuanwu City (Black tortoise City)
…
When Qing Yuan heard that Black Dragon City was hosting a Culinary Exchange Festival, he immediately hitched a ride back with a vegetable delivery truck.
His days at Black Dragon Port had been utterly boring.
The amusement park wasn't finished yet, so all he could do was sit by the construction site watching the workers hammer away. At mealtimes, he ate, then waited again.
He'd been at Black Dragon Port for days but still hadn't received any word from his mother.
He figured she probably wasn't coming.
Even if she did plan to visit, it wouldn't be anytime soon.
And the wind at Black Dragon Port was awful—gritty and relentless. Even though he lived inside the city walls, he had to wash his hair every day. He felt like he had sand in his mouth whenever he spoke.
Qing Yuan waved to the truck driver. "Thanks for the lift, uncle!"
The driver waved him off good-naturedly.
Swaggering through the city gates, Qing Yuan was immediately overwhelmed by how much he'd missed the lively, bustling Black Dragon City.
Back at Black Dragon Port, shops were just starting to take shape. But because the Demon Pass was narrow, few merchant caravans passed through—it was Black Dragon City that everyone knew about.
Recently, the few caravans that did go to Black Dragon Port were just hitching rides on trucks delivering produce. They'd pause briefly at the transfer station, take a look around, and move on.
So while technically a new city, Black Dragon Port lacked the excitement of Black Dragon City.
Qing Yuan flagged down a passing patrol soldier. "Where's the Culinary Exchange Festival being held?"
The soldier handed him a flyer. "The location's right there. The festival runs for seven days. Today's the first—go quick!"
Only seven days? Could he even try all the food in time?
The flyer explained that the first fifty stalls were run by local demon vendors, while the last thirty were run by different merchant caravans.
Originally, there weren't going to be any merchant stalls at all, but when the traveling merchants got the flyer and asked if they could participate, Yin Jixue agreed. It would add diversity and healthy competition to the festival.
Since all the spaces had already been assigned, she simply slotted them at the end.
Today was the first day of the festival, and the entire street was packed—buzzing with demons and excitement.
And not just local demons—merchant caravans were everywhere too.
The ticket vendor recognized Qing Yuan and handed him a ticket without charge.
"Her Highness said that any guest of the Qiongluan Clan is exempt from the entrance fee."
Qing Yuan's surprise turned to a beaming smile. "Thank Her Highness for me!"
The moment he stepped into the venue, he was hit by a wave of delicious smells—he could already smell it from the streets away. The scent was strongest at the very first stall.
"Granny, what's this?" he asked eagerly.
The woman flipped a sizzling piece of meat. "Grilled pig trotters!"
Qing Yuan tilted his head. "Pig trotters? From the tusk-toothed tapir?"
"That's right—its foot."
He remembered the roasted wild boar he'd eaten in the palace, and instantly started drooling.
"Give me two!"
Granny quickly pulled out two glistening, oily trotters, sprinkled them with chili flakes and seasoning, then handed them over.
"They're skewered with iron rods—nice and sturdy. Just hold and eat!"
Qing Yuan couldn't wait. He bit into one despite the heat. Unlike the roast pig he'd had before, the trotters were chewy, tender, and springy. The rich spices hit all the right notes, setting off an explosion of flavor on his tongue.
He devoured one in no time, already deciding to eat this every day of the festival.
Next, he arrived at the second stall—this one had a sweet, mouthwatering aroma that he'd never smelled before.
"What's in that big iron barrel?" he asked.
The vendor, an elder with distinct atavistic features, grinned. "Roasted sweet potatoes. Just harvested two days ago—the first batch in the city!"
Qing Yuan quickly licked the seasoning off his fingers and cradled the half-eaten trotter in his left hand. "I'll take two!"
He grabbed the piping-hot sweet potatoes in one hand while still holding the pork in the other. He took a bite without hesitation—no concern for the heat at all.
Chewing on roasted sweet potato, he spotted a grilled vegetable stall nearby.
"Is this grilled lettuce any good?"
The vendor bellowed, "Try it and find out!"
Qing Yuan nodded. "Alright! Just give me one—I'm out of hands."
He gobbled it in one bite and smacked his lips in delight. "Another one!"
Standing at the grill, he asked, "What's that thin slice? Looks different."
"That's a grilled potato slice," the vendor replied. "You've had shredded potatoes before, right? Same thing, just sliced instead."
Qing Yuan blinked. "But… isn't it supposed to be shredded? Why is it flat?"
The vendor laughed. "Potatoes are round or oval. You slice 'em one way, it's shreds; slice 'em another, it's chips. Simple as that."
Qing Yuan flushed with embarrassment.
"Uh… then give me two skewers. The more I eat, the better I'll remember."
The vendor grilled them up and handed them over.
Qing Yuan munched away—these were so good!
Large iron barrels lined the street, meant for tossing skewers and trash.
After polishing off the sweet potatoes and trotters, he spotted more delicious treats.
"What's that pretty thing? Is it edible?"
A young demon woman laughed. "It's fruit wine! Mild, won't make you drunk. Even a three-year-old can drink it."
Qing Yuan eyed the rainbow of colors in confusion—he couldn't decide.
"Which one's the best?" he asked.
She smiled kindly. "They're all good! Why not come every day and try a new one each time?"
He nodded. "Good idea! I'll take this one—and that one."
He pointed to the green kiwi wine and the minty-colored one. With "Qing" (green) in his name, it was no surprise he liked green drinks.
Qing Yuan wandered from stall to stall, eating and drinking nonstop. He burped at least a dozen times, yet his stomach showed no sign of fullness.
There were tables and chairs along the road for weary festivalgoers, but Qing Yuan didn't stop for a moment.
Then he ran into merchants from his own Qiongluan Clan. He sampled the food labeled with their crest—and instantly frowned.
These vendors didn't recognize him, but a few had seen him being taken into the palace.
They hurried forward nervously. "Did we not cook it well?"
Qing Yuan frowned. "You used too little seasoning. Compared to everything I've eaten so far, this stuff tastes like plain water."
The merchants scowled. "This is the best our Qiongluan Clan has to offer! Just because you're close to Black Dragon City doesn't mean you should insult our cuisine!"
Qing Yuan looked stunned. "What are you talking about? I've had food in the Qiongluan Clan that's way better than this. You're lying to demons!"
One merchant glared. "Then what's your name? Let's see if we've even heard of you."
Qing Yuan raised his chin proudly. "I'm the son of the Sixth Princess of the Qiongluan Clan—Qing Yuan, the Young Lord."
The merchants fell silent immediately. Crestfallen, they muttered, "Young Lord… most of the Qiongluan Clan's food is like this. You just haven't seen it."
"Maybe I haven't," Qing Yuan replied, "but if this is what you're putting on display, outsiders will think this is all our clan has to offer!"
The merchants were selling bland fruit, unseasoned mash, and fruit that was either absurdly sour or painfully spicy. No sauces, no cooking techniques—just raw goods in wooden trays.
With food like this, how could they possibly impress Black Dragon City's guests?