The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

Compared to his other two brothers, "Ashes Descend" took a completely different route.

He didn't open a shop directly but instead mingled in the marketplace of Black Wind Castle, carefully observing the eating habits of the Hell Dwarves and goblins.

He frowned as he watched a goblin pour a large lump of unknown sauce into the pot at his stall, then grab a handful of something that looked like maggots and sprinkle them in, finally stirring it hard a few times, bringing out a bowl of stew emitting a peculiar odor.

It kind of looked like a magic potion.

If it weren't for the other goblins lining up, swallowing their saliva, he might even suspect they were seeing a doctor.

"... What the hell is this?" "Ashes Descend" widened his eyes, feeling a tingling on his scalp.

The goblin stirred while boasting to the customers: "Fresh! Just caught Earth-bound Worms with special seasoning! Look at this color, how authentic!"

"..." "Ashes Descend" silently swallowed his saliva, deciding to stick to his own path.

He had already planned; he wouldn't simply replicate the delicacies from Earth but combine the characteristics of Black Wind Castle to create a kind of "Undead Cuisine" that would better suit these creatures' tastes.

The other two were busy with their own affairs, looking forward to their first batch of customers.

However, reality is always harsher than imagination.

Except for a few curious ones, most customers just stared at their stalls, their eyes full of suspicion and distrust.

Although Demon City does not discriminate against humans, dwarves, or even elves... it doesn't mean they do not discriminate against the undead.

That's even more lowly than goblins.

Except for undead mages who actively embrace the Netherworld Power, many undead are those whom even the Demon God would not accept, having certainly sold their souls to Saint Sis.

"Your food... is there anything wrong with it?" A Hell Dwarf asked with a frown.

"Why are you undead suddenly selling food?" A goblin squinted, cautiously scanning the food at the stall, "It's not like you're boiling your own bones for the soup, right?"

"Greedy Sword God" paused his hand, then shamelessly lied without a change in expression.

"Nonsense! The bones we use are pig bones, fresh ones."

Goodness gracious!

He didn't deny it was from themselves!

Instantly, half the surrounding customers left.

Realizing his slip of the tongue, "Greedy Sword God" wished he could smack himself.

The Hell Dwarf gave him a doubtful look, stared at the boiling broth, and sniffed, seemingly determining if there was any "undead" flavor in it.

After a while, he nodded: "Pig bones, huh? Alright then."

At least he didn't smell any magic potion ingredients within, so he shouldn't wake up the next morning as an undead mage's servant.

"Greedy Sword God" breathed a sigh of relief, quietly wiping sweat from his brows. Although it felt inexplicable, it seemed he had passed this hurdle.

Yet just as he thought so, the remaining goblins showed disappointed expressions, shaking their heads as they walked away.

"It would have been better if it were human bones."

"Pfft, boring!"

"Such a disappointment."

"Tomb Chef God" twitched his mouth, resisting the urge to retort. He glanced at "Ashes Descend" and found his expression indescribable.

Alright then.

The customer is the Demon God.

They silently chanted, deciding to pretend they hadn't heard those bizarre remarks.

...

Although the process wasn't perfect, in the end, they managed to make these "hard-to-please Demon Lords" put down their guard, no longer discriminating against their food just because they were undead, but seriously examining their offerings themselves.

The steaming broth rolled in the large pot, the rich meat aroma mixed with the delicate soup base, emitting an enticing fragrance.

"Greedy Sword God" stood confidently behind the stall, using long chopsticks to pick up a portion of hand-pulled noodles, gently placed them into a bowl, then scooped a ladle of broth simmered for twelve hours, and slowly poured it into the bowl.

The rich broth enveloped the noodles, shimmering with a soft golden glow with a gentle shake, making one's mouth water.

He precisely scattered the pre-prepared herbs into the bowl, finally placing two thin slices of beef on top, completing a bowl of authentic Northwestern noodles with a Hell flavor!

"Here's your noodles!"

A smiling "Greedy Sword God" handed over the bowl, then stood happily on the side, watching the customers' reactions.

The Hell Dwarf sitting at the table leaned closer to the bowl and inhaled deeply, relaxing his furrowed brows and nodding in satisfaction.

"Smells not bad!"

He then picked up a fork, poked it into the noodles, twirled it around, and stuffed a bundle of noodles into his mouth, his whiskers twitching, his two tired-from-work eyes suddenly widening like saucers.

"How is it?!" "Greedy Sword God" eagerly asked, almost reaching his hand into the bowl as he slapped the table, "Did it blow your mind?!"

"What... what kind of thing is this?!" The dwarf coughed, nearly spitting out what was in his mouth.

"Greedy Sword God" was dumbfounded.

He had anticipated praise but instead got a slap in the face.

Next to him, "Tomb Chef God" almost couldn't hold back his laughter, mockingly watching the Sword God, waiting to see him make a fool of himself.

Too bad skeletons don't have blood vessels, or else his face would surely have turned beet red.

"What... what do you mean what kind of thing?! Don't you understand..." Sword God roared furiously.

"You call this bowl of snot porridge noodles?! It's a fraud!" The Hell Dwarf was even more furious, slamming the fork he held, causing the noodles to almost slap onto his ribcage.