Happy Children's Day

On the conveyor belt, the cleaned body had already been chopped beyond recognition by Zhu Yan.

He quickly turned away, refusing to look at the shattered ribs, and set the cleaver down on the large cart beside him.

The wooden handle of the cleaver was coated in grease, and Zhu Yan only realized it a moment too late—another wave of bizarre discomfort washed over him.

“It’s all part of the path,” Dragonfly remarked, studying Zhu Yan’s back as he furiously wiped his hands with wet wipes.

“Fragile mammals. They can never bring themselves to look directly at the corpses of their own kind.”

Zhu Yan tossed the soiled wipe into his ring.

“Hey, if you saw a headless dragonfly corpse—”

“I’m an insect.” Dragonfly buzzed its eyes. “Oh, little Hunter—we insects aren’t afraid of that. I’d eat it for the nutrients!”

Zhu Yan called it a freak under his breath.

Dragonfly hummed a simple, odd little tune, gave its insect leg a flick, and shook out a pure white uniform.

“Take it.” It stressed again to Zhu Yan, “You still remember the time limit, right? Don’t put it on now, because it only lasts for 30 minutes total.”

“Whoa.”

Zhu Yan let out a surprised sound.

The jacket was exquisitely crafted, spotless white, and there was even a pair of matching gloves tucked into the pocket.

It didn’t look like something a chef would wear—it looked more like formalwear.

“How did you pull this off?” he asked curiously. “I only placed the order with you a few dozen minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t rush back to the Lazy Craftsman Shop to finish it, did you?”

Dragonfly burst into loud laughter and shoved the heavy garment into Zhu Yan’s hands.

“That’s a secret,” it said. “I used a kind of spider silk that can change instantly. All such garments are pre-made—you’ll understand once you’ve seen more of them.”

Fine, then.

The Carnival Paradise was indeed full of all sorts of mind-boggling things.

What mattered now was that the uniform was in hand—he’d crossed another small hurdle—not what material the thing was spun from.

Zhu Yan accepted the heavy jacket and thanked it politely.

“I’ll pay you back for everything in full.”

Inside the office.

Ji Xiting was grinning ear to ear, watching the head chef on the surveillance monitor with an almost doting expression.

Crisp, clear dialogue crackled from the speaker, and at its base, a little lump of toad venom left a faint stain on the desktop.

“Take it,” came Dragonfly’s voice. “You still remember the theme of the banquet, right? Don’t wear it yet—you’re supposed to play an angel. Don’t get it dirty.”

Then came the head chef’s voice with a faint mechanical edge.

“How did you manage to make this? I love it—it’s too magnificent!”

The chef’s tone was somewhat distorted, not entirely natural, but it sounded deeply unsettling—very much like…

No, it basically WAS a horror creature.

“With a robe this good, I’ll definitely satisfy the lords and ladies.”

“I owe it all to you fine folks at the Lazy Craftsman Shop for rushing!”

A faint hum of static, then Dragonfly’s sly, gleeful voice came through.

“The craftsmanship is a secret… I used a shape-shifting spider silk… Don’t get it dirty—wait until the feast begins to put it on!”

Ji Xiting zoomed in on the frame, admiring that pure-white gown.

“It put real thought into this,” he mused offhandedly to the Doppelganger. “Now this is my kind of subordinate. I honestly thought—”

Ji Xiting relaxed back into his chair and pulled a phone from his pocket.

As he opened a game, he recalled the halo the chef had prepared earlier.

It hadn’t looked bad, but compared to this garment, it was leagues apart.

“I honestly thought it was going to strap on that bare, empty halo.”

The old monsters at the Abyssal Eye were exceedingly picky, to the point of absurdity.

Whether they were native horror creatures or foreign monsters, each one had its own strict standards.

The chef upgrading his attire was nothing but good news for Ji Xiting.

After all, relying solely on his own resentment—and his late father’s fanatical devotion to the Snowy Sect—wouldn’t be enough to win their favor.

Ji Xiting looked down at the loading game screen, Dragonfly’s voice coming through his speaker clearly.

“By the way, one more thing. You need to serve the Hunter as a dish.”

…

Dragonfly’s compound eyes fixed on Zhu Yan, refracting a riot of colors under the monotonous, stark white light of the workshop.

The light seemed grimy somehow, tinged with an indefinable gray and a murky, ill-intentioned haze.

“What?” Zhu Yan said warily. “What do you mean, served as a dish?”

On the conveyor belt lay only a pitiful body of unknown origin.

In Zhu Yan’s ring, he still kept the Thrill Delight he’d acquired from the Bartender in the last instance.

Could he mix the flesh of this body with a generous dose of Thrill Delight and pass it off as something believable?

“The boss’s meaning,” Dragonfly’s smile deepened, “is that he hopes you preserve the Hunter’s face, slice this corpse into sashimi as it is, and then platter it.”

“Otherwise, they have no way to confirm it truly is the Hunter…”

It sounded like the cruel taste of the Abyssal Eye—or Ji Xiting himself.

To take the Hunter—who had fallen in the kitchen, attempting to steal the Key Fragment—and serve him as a dish on the table, then feast upon him.

It was a form of utter humiliation, and the biggest problem right now was…

“Who do I send up?” Zhu Yan tilted his head, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.

If it truly came to that, the puppet he’d recently acquired would be quite fitting.

But a puppet wasn’t human after all—it would need some sacrifice. He’d have to dress it up, disguise it, and make it work.

Zhu Yan glanced at the big catering cart where he’d just set his cleaver.

The cart smelled unpleasant because its top shelf was piled high with Zhu Yan’s “handiwork,” and the odor wrapped around him so thick it made it hard to breathe.

“What are you planning?” Dragonfly asked eagerly. “Do you need to buy something from me?”

“You see, as I said, I can’t take sides.”

“But horror creatures all need to eat—I can still do a little honest business on the side.”

“Member, what do you say?”

Zhu Yan shot a glance at Dragonfly.

It seemed Ji Xiting had thoroughly pissed off this creature. Before, it would still put on airs in front of him, but now it was scheming to help him at every turn—not even bothering to pretend anymore.

“I need a catering cart.”

Zhu Yan couldn’t turn down such good intentions. “The cart needs to have a hole in it, so my puppet’s head can stick out… like this…”

He gestured with his hands: “You see, I need to put both the puppet and this body I’ve hacked to pieces on it.”

“The body laid flat, and the puppet’s head sticking out through the hole, raised upright like an exhibit.”

“Only the puppet’s head shows, but the head needs to look like it was severed and placed off to the side all by itself.”

Dragonfly understood Zhu Yan’s meaning and let out a strange, chittering laugh.

“No problem,” it said, and pointed to another cart that hadn’t yet been loaded with dishes.

“Making a new one right now would be a tight squeeze, dear chef.”

"I'll modify another car for you right here on the spot. I've got my tools on me—the full set."