Chapter 5: The Case of the Stolen Braised Pork

The kitchen was a scene of frantic, steaming activity. Yet, in the eyes of Fan Tong, the true treasure lay in the corner—a pile of discarded pig bones and offal, pungent and destined for the trash. His eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he commanded in a deep voice, "Stop! Bring those bones to me, every last one of them!"

The kitchen fell silent. Everyone stared at him as if he were a lunatic. No one could understand why this newly appointed flag officer was making such a fuss over a heap of "garbage."

The cooks exchanged confused glances. Though they did not understand his intent, they had witnessed his ruthless efficiency and dared not question him. They picked up their cleavers, and soon, a rhythmic symphony of chopping filled the air.

The largest military pots were hoisted over roaring fires. The shattered bones, mixed with the cleaned offal, were dumped in, seasoned only with simple scallions and ginger to remove the gamey odor. No complex spices, no refined techniques. Fan Tong wanted only the primitive, pure, and concentrated essence of the marrow.

As the broth simmered, a creamy white liquid began to churn. A rich, almost aggressive aroma of meat and bone marrow drifted from the kitchen, wafting across the entire camp. Like an invisible hand, the scent reached the noses of soldiers gnawing on hard black flour cakes and drinking plain water, clawing at their very insides.

"What is that smell? It's so fragrant!"
"It seems to be coming from the kitchen. Good heavens, are they cooking dragon meat?"

Countless soldiers paused, craning their necks, greedily inhaling the tantalizing scent that made their throats ache with hunger.

For the staple, Fan Tong abandoned the inedible black cakes. Using the army's surplus white flour and a bit of yeast he "borrowed" from his system, he kneaded several massive vats of dough. He ordered simple earthen pits to be dug and heated until glowing, creating primitive tandoor ovens. The dough was slapped against the scorching walls, quickly puffing up into golden, crispy flatbreads.

"Eat up!"

At Bao Nianfeng’s roar, the camp erupted into motion. Soldiers lined up with ceramic bowls, staring at the scene in disbelief. Gone was the dark, unappetizing gruel; in its place was a large ladle of piping hot, creamy bone broth, floating with tender chunks of offal. Beside it were two golden, palm-sized flatbreads and a basin of wild greens dressed in garlic, coarse salt, and wild vinegar—refreshing and crisp.

A veteran who had just returned from the front lines took a bowl with trembling hands. He inhaled deeply before taking a massive gulp. The hot broth slid down his throat, an explosion of savory flavor that seemed to soothe his frozen insides. He froze, his bleary eyes instantly reddening.

"Meat... it's meat broth..." The veteran’s voice cracked. He tore off a piece of flatbread and soaked it in the broth until it was soft and succulent. He devoured it, a surge of warmth rising from his stomach and spreading to his limbs, washing away the exhaustion of days of slaughter.

"Oh... I've fought for ten years, and I've never eaten anything this good!"

A young soldier wept as he ate, licking the last drop of broth from his bowl before savoring the bits of offal, his face glowing with pure happiness. The camp was no longer filled with complaints or groans, only the sound of swallowing and satisfied sighs. The soldiers’ faces were alight once more.

[Ding! Main quest "Rectify Logistics" complete!]
[Quest Rating: Perfect! You have not only filled their bellies but fed their souls!]

Hidden in his tent, Fan Tong stared at the three vials emitting a strange red glow. Without hesitation, he uncorked one and downed it. There was no flavor, but a second later, an indescribable, scorching heat erupted in his stomach, sweeping through his body like magma!

"Urgh!"

Fan Tong gritted his teeth as his bones cracked and popped, as if being shattered and reformed by invisible hands. His two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame trembled violently; the muscle fibers beneath his skin were torn apart, only to weave back together into something denser and more resilient.

His weight remained the same, but he could feel a profound transformation. His cumbersome fat was being filled with infinite power, turning into a layer of impenetrable armor.

When the pain finally faded, he felt a strength he had never known. Fan Tong stood up and threw a punch, the air whistling with the force. He felt he could kill an ox with a single blow. Even more miraculous, his skin felt as tough as tanned leather. He grazed his arm with a small knife, leaving a shallow scratch, but as he bit into a piece of flatbread, the wound began to heal at a visible rate!

"Eating... accelerates self-healing?" Fan Tong’s eyes brightened. This was a god-tier skill tailor-made for a glutton like him! He glanced at the remaining two vials and a wild idea formed.

"Heh, that kid Bao Nianfeng is thin as a monkey; he needs a boost. And those hard-working cooks..." He touched his chin with a mischievous grin. "A heavy-duty kitchen squad that can fight, tank, and heal by eating? Just thinking about it is exhilarating!"

Just then, Xu Da arrived at the tent, caught by the aggressive aroma of meat. "I knew this lad had a secret stash; this scent is overpowering."

Fan Tong was about to enjoy the fruits of his labor when he saw a figure stealthily slip into the kitchen. It was none other than the commander-in-chief, Xu Da, who had just finished his military duties. Exhausted from purging corrupt officials, he had heard the soldiers raving about the food and came to taste Fan Tong’s craft.

He crept into the kitchen, his eyes locking onto the bubbling pot of braised pork. Seeing Fan Tong, he cleared his throat.

"Fan Tong, I am here to inspect the evening rations. Do not be lax."

He spoke with righteous authority while his eyes remained glued to the pot, his feet already moving him to the table. Fan Tong could only grimace, serving a large bowl of meat and two flatbreads, placing them respectfully before the Great Marshal.

Xu Da could hold back no longer. He lifted a piece of trembling, braised pork to his mouth, gasping from the heat but unable to let go. The fat melted instantly, the lean meat was tender and flavorful, and the rich sauce coated his palate, making him squint in bliss.

Just as he was eating with abandon, a loud voice boomed at the entrance.

"Marshal! I have an urgent military report..."

Deputy General Feng Sheng burst in, but stopped dead. He looked at the bowl of steaming pork, then at Xu Da, whose cheeks were stuffed like a hamster’s. The air turned awkward.

Feng Sheng’s face turned bright red. He pointed at Xu Da, trembling with indignation.

"Inspection?" Feng Sheng sputtered, gesturing to Xu Da’s oily lips. "You call this an inspection? Since when does an inspection require scraping the bowl clean? Xu Tiande, have you forgotten the oath you made before His Majesty? 'Eat with the soldiers'—is this how you 'eat with them'?"

Xu Da’s face flushed, but he shoved the empty bowl at Fan Tong, acting emboldened. "Precisely because of that, I must inspect it! What if there is something amiss in this meat? Should I let the entire army suffer if it were poisoned? I am testing it for toxins! What do you know?"

"Audacious! I am the lead commander! If I say this is military business, then it is!"

The two top generals of the Ming Dynasty argued over a bowl of meat like two children, their spittle flying. Fan Tong cowered in the corner, dumbfounded, not daring to let out a breath.