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After putting on their masks, Lu Yang and Meng Jingzhou completely transformed. Their appearances and auras changed, allowing them to blend in seamlessly with the crowd.
“Give us two bowls of paste.”
Lu Yang was intrigued by the novel sight. The street cook tended to a large pot of something thick and bubbling. Judging by the number of similar shops lining the street, it seemed to be a local specialty of the Buddhist Kingdom.
“Aight.”
The cook ladled two scoops of paste onto rice. It looked utterly unappetizing.
Lu Yang tasted it and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The flavor also left much to be desired.
Having eaten only the vegetarian meals at Kaihuang Temple and the feast at Samaritan Cui’s home, which were quite delicious, he had assumed that the Buddhist...
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