Mouthwatering in Mausoleum

The flames blazed fiercely, casting their warm, all-encompassing glow.

Much like a blacksmith who strikes with precision when the iron is searing, seasoned chefs seize every opportunity when their most coveted ingredients are in rich supply.

In the absence of his senior officers, the general concealed behind the steel mask, indulged in one of his rare pleasures, cooking. It is a pastime with simple artistry but might even rival the act of painting. With his personal retinue of bodyguards ever vigilant at his side, a customary precaution for military commanders throughout the Earth Kingdom, they embarked on a leisurely expedition outside the city. It would be a grave oversight, after all, if delectable fare did not accompany their carefree sojourn.

The oil hissed and popped in the wok, the most adaptable of cookware in the Earth Kingdom. Just as he orchestrated the movements of his soldiers with the precision of a Pai Sho master, so too did the fresh ingredients bend to his command.

For this particular culinary endeavor, he used animal fats to enrich the oil, stir-frying freshly butchered meat. Alas, the creatures had been slaughtered in a state of terror, which could compromise the quality of the flesh. But no matter, as an expert hand with the right seasoning could mask such imperfections. Waste is intolerable to the general, who demanded that nearly every part of a slaughtered beast be utilized to its fullest in his culinary creations.

His personal guard, a well-trained cadre of roughly a hundred soldiers, diligently scoured the area for ingredients during their carefree excursion. Though tasked primarily with defending their general, these men had over time honed their culinary prowess alongside combat skills, with each of them a veteran from the famed Battle of Honghai. In retrospect, assigning such a mundane role to a unit of elite soldiers seemed peculiar to many, especially to the sharp-eyed General Liu, who often found the practice baffling.

No matter. As the wise often proclaim, the people revere their next meal. The general embodied this creed, ensuring that his retinue are thorough in their foraging. The untrained might foolishly believe that only the flesh of an animal holds value, but such naivety quickly fades in the face of world cuisines, where nearly every part of the beast finds a place on the table.

Neatly chopped intestines, for instance, could be transformed into a culinary marvel when sautéed with garlic chives and freshly made blood curd. Meanwhile, a cauldron of rich broth, simmering with bones, bubbled slowly over the campfire's steady flame.

The aroma wafting through the air is unexpectedly pleasant, a surprise for those unaccustomed to such delicacies.

Once the general had finished stir-frying the intestines and blood tofu, he emptied the contents into a clay pot and placed the savory dish on the rough outdoor table. But his work is not yet done.

Next, he turned to a basket filled with delicately wrapped minced meat dumplings. Dropping them into the simmering broth, he entrusted the task of watching over the cauldron to a vigilant soldier, ensuring the soup would not overcook. The general returned to the fire and, in a moment of spontaneous creativity, decided to craft one final dish, a simple yet ingenious treat. Using the remaining oil, he fried the skin left from the preparation, rendering it into a crisp snack not unlike tofu skin.

Only when each of his men had received a fair share did the general allow himself to partake in the sumptuous feast. His soldiers, now adept at mimicking his culinary prowess, relished their bowls of bone broth while the heavily armored figure reclined at the table, a bowl of white rice in hand.

The Judge of Honghai, the general who saved the Western Air Temple and pacified the pirate horde that terrorized the Mo Ce Sea, savored his dinner beneath the shimmering rivers of stars. Sadly, those celestial lights are all but obscured by the towering flames of the great fire, whose grandeur rivaled even the heavens themselves.

Why are you not eating, my dear guest?

The general inquired, a hint of concern lacing his tone.

Is the meal not to your liking?

The limbless guest seated at the table dares not to touch the food before him, with one of the dishes being a plate of stir-fried tongue with capsicums, a famous dish in the southern region of the mainland continent. The crackling of the great flames should have muffled any cries or protests, allowing for a serene dining experience.

How peculiar.

The general sensed that perhaps the delectable intestines and blood tofu might not align with the guest's usual tastes. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a soldier who wears a basket for helmet to fetch another dish.

Moments later, a large plate brimming with four generous chunks of braised meat is placed before the guest. This dish, inspired by the renowned roast ducks of Ba Sing Se, showcased the general's culinary creativity. Though he could not recall whether it was meant to emulate turtle duck or some feathered variety without shells, he is confident that the cooking technique could be adapted to other meats, particularly his favorite kind.

"I hope this dish piques your interest," the general continued, his voice warm with hospitality. "It is a great pity that your close friends cannot join us, as the joy of a meal is always amplified in good company."

As the fire crackled and danced, the stones of the rudimentary fort began to show signs of wear, fissures appearing as if weeping with salt. If one were to look carefully, they can still see those dancing silhouettes.