I Want to Eat Ten

The Yan Huang awakening team quickly arrived at the scene. When the car door opened, it was still District Director Liu Dingjian leading the team.

He strode over in quick steps, a face piled with warm smiles, his gaze precisely landing on Dongfang Shuye.

"Group Leader Dongfang is truly an unparalleled talent! This case was so thorny, yet the moment you arrived, the clouds parted and the skies cleared. On behalf of the Chang’an District Bureau, I extend our sincerest thanks!"

His words were flawlessly polished, both flattering the visitor from the capital and subtly polishing his own image.

Dongfang Shuye showed no reaction to this official rhetoric. Instead, he turned his head to look at Lin Mo, who was standing idly nearby.

"Are there any others from Chongyang Monastery involved?"

"There are, but they’re all mid-level types. I was hoping for a big shot or something."

Lin Mo didn’t seem too interested. His gaze then shifted to the young Daoist novice Wang Chen, still frozen in place.

"Kid, from the look of you, I take it you’re not planning to go back to that rundown temple?"

Wang Chen, hit right on the mark, shook his head violently.

"I don’t want to go back there, ever. Not ever."

"I can see you still have some foundation in Daoist cultivation. I know a Celestial Master from Longhu Mountain—a decent guy, not like Hegui. If you want to go, I’ll write a letter of recommendation for you."

Longhu Mountain!

The ancestral seat of the Zhengyi Dao!

These three words struck Wang Chen’s heart, making his breath catch for a moment.

That was the sacred land longed for by all talisman-school Daoists across the land.

Of course, Wang Chen knew about Longhu Mountain of the Zhengyi tradition, but his eyes involuntarily drifted to the young girl clutching his sleeve.

If he left, what would happen to her?

A trace of worry appeared on his youthful face, impossible to hide.

Lin Mo, with his sharp perception, saw through it at once and let out a scoff.

"Don’t you worry about her. With us around, no one will dare touch a single hair on her head. Besides—" He shifted his tone, adding a teasing edge, "If you go to Longhu Mountain as a Daoist, they don’t forbid marriage. You can take a wife."

Boom.

Wang Chen’s face turned red, from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.

The girl beside him dropped her head, nervously twisting the hem of her shirt in both hands, her cheeks hot enough to fry an egg.

"Alright, stop teasing them."

Dongfang Shuye couldn’t stand Lin Mo’s mischief any longer and interrupted him. "Let’s go. Didn’t you say that since we’re in Chang’an, you wanted me to treat you to roujiamo?"

"Just roujiamo isn’t enough!" Lin Mo perked up immediately. "I want yangrou paomo too—the kind you tear the bread yourself!"

"Fine!" Dongfang Shuye replied succinctly.

"And shuipen yangrou—gotta have that too!"

"Fine!"

"And I want biangbiang noodles too."

"Get lost! I might as well send you back to the training base."

"Cheapskate. Even as the young master of the Dongfang family, you’re still so stingy."

Watching these two imposing figures bicker like kids over a bowl of noodles, Wang Chen and the girl finally let go of their tension.

Their hearts slowly settled.

They exchanged a quiet glance, both catching a glimmer of post-disaster relief in each other’s eyes.

So, this was what true masters were like.

A warmth rose from deep within, driving away all the gloom and fear that had been there before.

— System: Old Zhang! Do you want a disciple or not? If you do, I’ll send one right over —

One roujiamo, two roujiamo, three roujiamo...

He stacked up ten roujiamo.

Wang Chen and Shen Qingqing just watched Lin Mo eat one after another.

Not just them—many of the diners in the shop kept staring at Lin Mo.

Even the staff and the owner watched Lin Mo as he devoured each one.

Meanwhile, Dongfang Shuye was beside him, tearing flatbread into a bowl.

“Don’t worry about him. He eats a lot,” he said.

Lin Mo munched on the roujiamo, looking quite refined as he ate.

“Yeah, I don’t come here often, so I’ve gotta make the most of it,” Lin Mo said.

He preferred roujiamo with extra fatty meat—the richer the grease, the better.

It was the same with braised pork rice; he loved the fatty cuts.

Soon, ten roujiamo were finished.

Dongfang Shuye handed the bowl of torn flatbread to a staff member.

“Dry soak, mouthful of soup, and water-surrounded city,” he ordered.

At that, a diner couldn’t help but speak up.

“He just ate ten roujiamo, and now he’s tearing up nine flatbreads? Is he insane?!”

Dongfang Shuye waved a hand. “It’s fine, he can handle it. And if he can’t, even better—at least then I’d know he has a limit.”

Usually, one bowl held a single bai ji mo (a plain flatbread), but Lin Mo wanted to try that scene from TV dramas: eating three flatbreads in one bowl.

So they asked for separate batches of torn bread.

The shop owner didn’t hesitate and started cooking right away.

“Dry soak” meant the lamb soup was cooked until no liquid remained, so a chopstick could stand upright in the bowl.

This style required the bread to be torn very small to easily absorb the broth.

“Mouthful of soup,” as the name implied, left just a sip of broth for the end.

The bread was torn a bit bigger so you could drink the soup and feel full.

As for “water-surrounded city,” it meant lots of soup with large chunks of bread.

The hardest technique for the chef was the dry soak—too little soup made the bread bland, while too much ruined the dish.

But seasoned cooks handled it with ease.

Soon, three bowls of lamb soup with flatbread were served, complete with cilantro and pickled garlic.

Lin Mo poured cilantro into the dry-soak bowl, stirred it, and started eating.

Other diners finished their meals but stayed seated, just watching Lin Mo.

Lin Mo didn’t mind; he ate slowly and deliberately, chewing at an easy pace.

One bowl emptied, he moved to the next.

Before long, all three bowls were polished off.

Then Lin Mo ordered another bowl of lamb soup.

Wang Chen and Shen Qingqing stared in stunned silence.

Finally, Shen Qingqing couldn’t hold back.

“Are we really okay, eating here?” she asked.

Dongfang Shuye, who was eating his lamb, waved a hand dismissively.

“No problem at all. We don’t need a trial—just evidence to determine the nature and punishment. So you’re already free.”

Shen Qingqing had by then changed into fresh clothes.

Since the two of them had no family left, Lin Mo planned to buy them plane tickets straight to Longhu Mountain.

It was clear that Wang Chen felt some longing for Longhu Mountain.

As for Shen Qingqing, she could also stay there.

He had found them a path forward; the rest was up to them. He wouldn’t get involved further.

As for Dongfang Shuye, after this whole ordeal, his obsession with Qin Suishou’s case had lessened.

Still, finding the killer of Qin Suishou would remain his top priority for now.

Just when Lin Mo and Dongfang Shuye were thinking of staying in Chang’an for a few more days, a message popped up on Lin Mo’s phone.

This made Lin Mo and Dongfang Shuye immediately set out to return to Tianjing.

As for the remaining issues at Chongyang Palace and the matter concerning the security company, they were left to the Yanhuang Bureau's branch in Chang'an to handle.