In front of a huge black cauldron, Martin was churning with a long wooden stick.

A ginger square cloth was wrapped around his chest, stirring as he observed the liquid in the subject's black cauldron.

The liquid slowly bubbles up with the stirring and turns into something like mud.

He took out two more small sticks, and from the crucible pulled out a number of brown plants like thin antlers.

"Squeeze the boiled staghorn fennel with a knife..."

With words in his mouth, he took out a short knife and pressed the stem of the plant with the back of the knife, and saw a lot of pale golden liquid flowing from the bottom of the stem.

"Stanley, help me get that pot, thank you." Martin said to an old man dressed as a butler next to him.

"Yes, sir."

The old man stepped forward and handed over a small silver jug, Martin felt his left hand slip, and the small jug almost fell to the ground, but fortunately Stanley caught it and handed it to Martin again.

"Thank you." Martin took the pot.

"I don't know what's wrong today, but I always feel like my hand is a little disobedient, like a finger is missing."

Martin looked at his left hand, and as if he remembered something, he hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you."

"Your apology scares me, sir." Stanley bowed slightly.

He was clumsy, limping when he walked, and there was not much hair on the top of his head, and his thin face had a large hooked nose.

Strangely enough, his right hand didn't have a thumb, and the cut didn't look like a sharp weapon, but more like it had been bitten off by some wild beast. It was only when Martin remembered this that he felt a little offended by what he had just said.

Martin carefully poured the pale golden liquid into the jug, rubbed his hands against the cloth on his chest, and pulled out a fish from the tank next to him, which was silver and glowed with a faint white light.

He took two small sticks of wood and plunged them into the fish's mouth, then skillfully began to scrape the scales with a short knife, cut open the abdomen, pulled out the internal organs, and the fishy black membrane, gills, and teeth, threw them into the fire to the side, and stuffed a handful of pine needle-like plants into the fish's abdomen.

"Squirrel tongue... It is written in the book that you should put more in order to remove the smell and increase the fragrance. ”

He tilted his head to look at the large black book that he opened next to him, turned his head and grabbed another handful and stuffed it in.

After a while, Martin poured the pale golden liquid into another crucible, waited for the liquid to smoke, and put the pickled fish inside, and the sound of crackling gradually filled the hall.

It was a splendid hall with a thick carpet of dark red embroidered gold trim on the floor, crystal lamps overhead, and the occasional waiter and maid passing by with fruits, wine glasses, or laundry.

The pine wood in the fireplace burned silently, and the whole hall was warm, and the crucible where Martin and the two were at odds was in the corner next to the fireplace.

After turning the fish over, Martin laboriously poured a basin of hot water into the crucible, threw a few bunches of yellow flowers into it, sprinkled some white crystals, covered it, and untied the yellow cloth from his chest.

He took a soft handkerchief from the old man next to him, walked to a floor-to-ceiling mirror next to him, and wiped the sweat from his forehead in front of the mirror.

The mirror is about a human height, with a spire like an arch, supported by two intricately carved pillars, one on the left and one on the right, and the legs of the pillars carved into the shape of two fishtails.

"It feels like I'm getting weaker and weaker." Martin said as he wiped his forehead.

He looked at himself in the mirror, it was a rather handsome young man, but at the moment for some reason some saliva was flowing from the corner of his mouth.

"It's still pretty handsome... Well? Are you already hungry and starting to drool?" Martin felt a little strange and wiped the corner of his mouth with a soft handkerchief.

"Need I make an appointment with Dr. John? He's almost finished the medicine he prescribed last time. Stanley walked over to Martin, leaning sideways enough to block half of the mirror.

"Not for the time being, I just don't know what's wrong today, I'm always hungry easily, and I should be fine after drinking this pot of fish soup." Martin smiled and walked back to the cauldron.

The butler looked at Martin's smile and responded with an unnatural smile.

After waiting for a while, when the wooden lid of the crucible was lifted again, a fresh smell erupted instantly.

Martin took out a small spoon and took a bite of the soup, sprinkled some white crystals into it, turned around and took a bowl, and began to take a big bite of the fish soup.

"It's delicious... Won't you have a bowl? He said to the old man who was always waiting next to him. The fish soup I cooked was good, and my mother praised it. ”

"Thank you for your kindness, sir." The old man bowed slightly. "Silver dace is too precious, so you should enjoy it first."

Martin looked at the respectful butler, took another bowl of fish soup, and said nothing.

Before yesterday, he was still a college student who was about to graduate, and he was frantically working on questions for the preparation of exams in the second half of the year. I didn't expect to do the question too late the night before, and I came to this world after falling asleep in a daze.

And he didn't wake up with a headache or a pile of memory fragments popping up, he heard the butler named Stanley calling him "Mr. Martin" as if he had just accidentally taken a nap.

And Martin didn't know anything about what happened before the nap.

When he woke up, he was treated like an aristocracy, with many waiters serving him to dress and wash, a maid serving a shallow tray of water and towels to wipe his hands during meals, and special music to set the mood.

Everything was so real, except that the attendants and maids looked at him strangely.

He naturally understood this as their reverence for the nobility, and quickly put aside the messy conjectures and accepted the fact that he had crossed over.

Through his conversation with Stanley, Martin learns that this is a medieval world that is a bit like Europe, and that he is a small baron who owns the "Palace of the Goldfinch".

"There are no endless experiments to do, no endless questions, and a whole bunch of servants to serve, this is a paradise."

He quickly adapted to and even enjoyed the day. After all, such an aristocratic life is much more comfortable than being a small-town subject.

If it weren't for the fact that his body was unusually hungry today, he wouldn't even bother to cook this pot of fish soup himself.

I have to sigh that the cooking of the big foodie empire is a hundred times better than the monotonous bread, potatoes and pickled pork!

When Martin finished his fish soup contentedly, the clever maid next to him took his bowl and wiped his hands, and then the other maid wiped his mouth and set him a glass of ginger beer.

Today's maid's hand is not very steady, why do you feel a little trembling?

Hey, when do I have to be helped to wipe my mouth when I eat?

Martin looked at the maid with some confusion and saw that she was pursing her lips and a few drops of sweat oozing from her forehead.

A layer of scarlet mist was attached to the surface of her body, the mist was thin and sticky, and it was slowly circulating at the moment, adding a bit of a bewitching feeling to her.

Martin had discovered two days ago that there was such a layer of fog on the surface of the bodies of the people around him, such as the waiters, maids and even the butlers, and the fog was of different colors, black, gray, scarlet, and dark green.

He couldn't be sure if this was their peculiarity or something else, and in order to hide his identity, he cautiously chose to shut up.

"Hiss...."

Just then, the sound of electricity coming from one of the house's radios interrupted Martin's train of thought, and the maid took the opportunity to walk away.

The radio played some Kingdom news every morning, and Martin was still interested.

After a melodious tune that looks like a cello playing.

"On November 24, 2102 A.D., today's Kingdom Radio is broadcast below."

"The Royal Foundation has confirmed that Gross, the last evil dragon in the Mir continent and the last known polluter in the world, was killed by the Ash Squad on the 22nd of this month."

"At this point, the last polluters have been judged, and the general public is invited to trust the royal family and the Church to jointly expel the remaining polluted."

......

"The annual 'Reindeer Market' is about to open in the tree capital of Cavides. It is reported that the scale of this year's market is the largest in history, gathering many well-known shops including "Black Cat Trail", "Sunset Diamond" and "Fairy Forest", and citizens can go to the central square of Cavides - Rose Square to participate in the market. ”

"Reindeer bazaar? Did Santa Claus drive it? The corners of Martin's mouth hooked, and he took a sip of ginger beer.

"Recently, there have been incidents of civilians collapsing due to contamination in several parts of the kingdom, and the sheriff once again reminds the residents:

1. Strictly implement the 'Holy Light Treaty', go to the temple every Saturday to pray, and every Sunday to the church to wash away sins and pollution;

2. If any 'contaminated person' is found, report it immediately to the court or foundation to which it belongs. Signs of contamination include, but are not limited to, brief mutations, degeneration into dragons, giant dogs, centaurs, sphinxes, vampires, werewolves, and other xenomorphs before collapsing. ”

"Also, animals that can talk must be 'polluters'!"

"Again, both 'polluters' and 'polluted persons' are extremely dangerous, please flee immediately and do not approach after discovery, and then report to the relevant authorities!"

"Can animals talk too? It's a magical world. ”

Martin sighed slightly, burped, and then scratched his stomach again, he always felt a little itchy on his stomach.

As for the so-called "polluters" and "polluted people", what does it have to do with me, Martin?

When the broadcast ended, Martin stood up and stretched, and he poured most of the fish soup from the crucible into a pot, the milky white fish soup still exuding an alluring smell.

"I added some calendula to it, and the cookbook called it 'The Bride of the Sun', which has the effect of warding off evil spirits and concentrating the mind, I feel that you are very tired these two days, old Stanley, you can share these fish soups with them."

Martin said and looked at Stanley.

In the past two days, the gray mist on Stanley's body has become thicker and thicker, and Martin feels that something is not right with this old man's body, so he wants to divide some fish soup with him and use it to replenish his body.

This is also the reason why he wants to stew fish soup, after all, this old butler is still very conscientious.

"Yes sir, thank you for your concern." Stanley took the pot, "I'm going to hand out the fish soup, you can take a break." ”

After saying that, he bowed slightly and limped out, and his figure seemed to be a little older.

Martin also made his way to the bedroom, where he planned to take a nap.

...

Stanley walked to the door, and two guards pulled the door open. It was the winter wind, so he tightened his coat and walked out.

As he walked, his back slowly straightened, and he no longer limped, and strode to the square outside the palace.

A man dressed in a clergyman's robe greeted him and bowed his head respectfully: "Your Excellency, Bishop." ”

"Hmm. Another group of death row inmates will be replaced, and the maids and attendants inside may have been contaminated and all executed. ”

Stanley, as if he had suddenly changed from an old man in his twilight to a rebellious middle-aged man, handed the pot out of his hand, took off his white gloves and threw them away.

"Martin already has some doubts, he can't wait any longer, I'll go see the second prince now."

"Yes." The man said respectfully, looked at the pot in his hand and asked, "What to do with this soup?" ”

"It's down." Stanley put on the papal robe handed over by the man and said without hesitation.

"Or send it to Blackwater Prison, where the condemned prisoners don't care about having anything to do with the 'polluters.'"