The sun jumped above the horizon, the sky turned white, and Dowling slowly opened his eyes, while he was still soaking in the barrel.

The potion in the barrel was still warm, and he knew that it was Qu Jiu taking care of him, and looked at the sleeping Qu Jiu on the side, his eyes full of gratitude.

After a night of nourishment, Dowling not only recovered, but even his body was much stronger than before.

Jumping out of the barrel, Dowling wiped his body clean, changed into a clean practice clothes, and began his daily morning exercise.

As his starting gesture began, the bones of his body made a sound like popping beans, and the internal force automatically stimulated from the dantian position, quickly moving through his body, which he had never experienced before.

Soon the first punch was over, and a lot of black impurities flowed out of the pores of his body, and Dowling didn't care about continuing to fight the second time... The third time...

By the time he finished his fifth beat, the black impurities had turned into a hard carapace, except for the joints that moved.

"Why are there so many impurities this time?" Dowling grumbled and re-burrowed into the barrel.

Soon the clear potion in the barrel turned black, like ink.

"Yesterday, I forcibly pulled you to punch and consolidate the body that broke through the limit, plus soaked in a medicinal bath all night, so your body is stronger than before, and those tired and sore are excreted from the body as impurities along with your exercises." Quit drinking, climbed out of the barrel, got dressed, and said.

Dowling jumped out of the ink-like barrel in disgust, regardless of the three-seven-twenty-one, he directly lifted the cold well water on the side and buckled it on his head, and the cold feeling instantly enveloped his whole body, and the filth was also washed away.

"In the future, I shouldn't wear a practice uniform to boxing anymore, it's too wasteful." Dowling reluctantly changed another set of clothes, and this time he went out with two barrels in one hand.

The water from the bath must not be poured into your own home, and there is a drainage pool on the street, so you don't have to worry about pouring two buckets of water into it, and the water will flow away automatically.

Back at home, the two barrels were cleaned, and Dowling went to cook.

Dowling washed out two white radish, the kitchen knife flew, cut the radish into slender strips, sprinkled a handful of salt to remove the water, rinsed it with water at home, and after the moisture was dried, he cut some diced mushrooms, diced sausages, and chopped green onions into the shredded radish.

Then I poured some wheat glutinous rice flour into the shredded radish, stirred them evenly, and fried them into a round cake and fried on both sides of the pan golden brown, the radish cake is crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, super delicious.

Then Dowling boiled water and boiled noodles, he wanted to make another eggplant meat sauce noodles, cut an eggplant into small dices, cut the meat into minced meat, add salt to the eggplant to kill the water for five minutes, after drying the water, fry the fried minced meat out of the fat, add ginger and minced garlic and stir-fry until fragrant, put in the diced eggplant, and start stir-frying.

At the same time, he prepared the marinade seasoning (2 spoons of light soy sauce, 1 spoon of dark soy sauce, 1 spoon of oil, 1 spoon of bean paste, 1 spoon of chicken essence, 1 spoon of sugar, 1 spoon of starch) Add half a bowl of water and mix well, pour it into the pot and stir-fry, and add chopped shallots when it comes out of the pot.

A bowl of noodles per person, plus a plate of radish cakes, this breakfast is simply not too delicious.

"What are you going to do in the next three days?" Quit asked as he ate noodles.

"I want to take a look at all the books on the shelves, and since they're there, they're not useless." Dowling thought for a moment and replied.

"Okay, then you read the book well, and I'll go to meditation in the pavilion." Quit said with a smile.

After breakfast, Dowling plunged headlong into the sea of books, and he wanted to see if they were for display or for an ulterior purpose.

Most of the books here are some cooking lessons, which Dowling doesn't need, and he's looking for something about his grandfather or what his grandfather left behind.

Time passed quickly, Dowling obsessively looked at one book after another, some books will be artificially marked, looking at the notes as if they were left by his grandfather, he will pay special attention to the places where there are annotated opinions.

When the time came in the evening, Dowling walked out of the main room rubbing his somewhat sour eyes, and he had read about twenty books in almost a day.

I have to say that it is helpful for the improvement of cooking skills, after all, grandpa Tai's cooking skills are not to say, and what his father taught is too far from a real chef.

"Quit drinking, I'll go out for a walk, relax my eyes." Dowling said as he walked to the door.

Quit woke up from his meditation and nodded.

Dowling walked out, and the street was a little more lively at this time, after all, it was evening, and there were many customers standing in front of some stalls.

Dowling wandered from stall to stall, looking east and west, and if there was something in the picture, he would choose to buy a few to take home.

In front of a fried rice stall, Dowling stopped, and he looked at the stall owner, a short old man with a big rosacea nose and blank eyes.

"Uncle, how do you sell this fried rice?" Dowling asked curiously.

The rosacea-nosed old man ignored the answer and pointed to the sign in front of the stall for Dowling to see.

"Fried rice with fate, ten taels of serving, if you love to eat it, you don't eat it, and you don't eat it." Dowling read it out in a whisper, and then he was stunned, this is the brand that should be written for business.

"Uncle, you write like this, can you have a business?" Dowling asked with a smile on his face.

"Old man, my food is only for those who are willing to eat, and those who are not willing to eat it, no matter how cheap it is, he will not want to eat it." The rosacea old man said angrily.

Dowling nodded, I have to say, what the old man said makes sense, but after all, who will have trouble with money when the door is open for business?

"Can this price be cheaper, ten taels of fried rice is indeed a bit cheap." Dowling bargained.

"Hmph, hungry people, people who are about to starve to death, old man, I don't take a penny, and those who have money and want to eat will not lose a penny." The rosacea-nosed old man said unceremoniously.

"Then you can bring me a copy, I want meat and eggs." Dowling said with a smile.

"Well, wait a minute." The rosacea old man threw up his head and took another long sip of wine, and staggered to the stove.

The old man trembled and picked up the kitchen knife, his right hand shook very much, and Dowling frowned when he looked at it, how should he cut vegetables and cook in this way?

The old man's next action gave the answer, only to see the old man take a piece of fresh meat, holding a kitchen knife in his right hand and hanging it on top of the kitchen knife, the kitchen knife shook very much, and it seemed that it could not be cut accurately at all.

"Poof!" A sound sounded, the kitchen knife cut through the fresh meat, a thin slice of meat was cut off, and then the old man's movements became more and more open, each slice of meat was very thin, Dowling could see clearly, when the old man cut the meat, his hands were still trembling, but the old man accurately grasped the rhythm of cutting meat, so that every time the knife fell can ensure short-term stability.

Dowling's eyes widened suddenly, and he watched this scene in disbelief.

"This old man is a master cook, at the very least, much better than himself." Dowling secretly said in his heart, he had to admit this fact.