Chapter 236: There are Dictators Here Too

Ren carefully reached toward the bubbling cauldron, wincing against the intense heat radiating from the iron, and swiftly plucked the fallen wooden serving spoon from the thick, dark broth by its very tip. She grabbed her leather waterskin and splashed a generous amount of cool water over the handle to wash off the sticky gravy.

Once it was clean, Ren plunged the spoon back in, scooping up a massive, generous serving of the rich elk and root vegetable stew. The cubed meat was practically falling apart, nestled perfectly against the tender orange carrots and thick potatoes. She poured it into one of her many wooden bowls, the steam billowing up in a fragrant, savory cloud.

Ren stepped forward and offered the bowl to the elder tiger.

“Here,” Ren said, her voice dripping with professional hospitality. “Be careful. It is extremely hot.”

The elder stared at the bowl as if it were loaded with poison. A young, incredibly skinny white tiger beastman quickly stepped forward from the crowd to respectfully take the elder’s wooden walking stick, freeing both of the old man’s hands.

The elder took the bowl. He brought it close to his face, his golden eyes narrowing as he intensely scrutinized the dark, velvety liquid. He leaned in and gave it a long, aggressive sniff.

The elder’s stomach released a loud, treacherous growl that echoed through the silent clearing. He couldn’t hide his hunger; his mouth was visibly salivating, a literal string of drool forming at the corner of his lips as he slowly, shakily brought the rim of the wooden bowl to his mouth.

As he did, Ren crossed her arms over her chest, a confident smile playing on her lips.

’This is it,’ Ren thought to herself. ’This is the very first step to winning over the White Tiger Clan.’

Truthfully, Ren knew there was no actual “magical effect” to her cooking. It was just meat, vegetables, basic Earth spices, and a whole lot of rendered beef tallow. She genuinely couldn’t understand what specific effect her cooking had on Feral Madness, or why it affected the deadly neurological disease at all. But, she was incredibly happy that it did.

Ren ultimately settled on the tried-and-true chef’s reasoning: good, soulful food cooked with love and proper seasoning can literally cure anything.

Everyone in the clearing watched with bated breath as the elder took his first cautious sip.

Ren watched his reaction like a hawk.

The moment the hot broth touched the elder’s tongue, his thick, white brows shot straight up into his hairline. His golden eyes widened to the size of saucers, the pupils dilating so far they swallowed his irises. His gaze began to follow things that the others simply couldn’t see.

The elder was literally seeing stars. In his euphoric, flavor-induced vision, perfectly seared chunks of elk meat and dancing, caramelized vegetables were floating around his head in a dazzling culinary waltz. He was thrust instantly into a daze of pure, unadulterated bliss.

He didn’t pull the bowl away. Instead, he eagerly tipped it higher, taking a massive gulp of the stew into his mouth. He closed his eyes in absolute satisfaction.

Purrrrrr.

A deep, vibrating sound erupted from the elder’s chest. He was purring. It was a sound of absolute, helpless contentment that the hardened old warrior hadn’t made since he was a tiny, helpless cub nursing from his mother.

The elder could physically feel the warmth flood his insides. He felt his frail, old muscles strengthening with every swallow. The chronic, sharp ache in his bad knees reduced to a barely noticeable, dull throb.

Throwing all dignity to the wind, the elder greedily slurped down the rest of the stew, chewing the tender meat with rabid enthusiasm. He finished the entire bowl in seconds, a loud, immensely satisfied sigh leaving his lips as he tipped the bowl upside down to catch the last drop.

In his flavor-drunk daze, he was completely oblivious to the hundreds of wide, stunned eyes entirely focused on him.

Ren smirked, leaning forward slightly. “How is it?”

The sound of her voice shattered the illusion.

The elder snapped his eyes open, as if suddenly remembering the current situation, the crowd, and his own staunchly declared hatred for this female.

Panic and embarrassment flashed across his wrinkled face. He violently threw the empty wooden bowl to the side, where it clattered against a rock. His face twisted into a grotesque mask of deep displeasure.

“Swill!” the elder condemned loudly, pointing an accusing finger at the cauldron. “It is terrible!”

Ren’s jaw dropped.

“You liar!” Ren shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “I literally just watched your soul ascend to another astral plane! You just had a food orgasm in front of everyone! You purred!”

The elder’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red under his dirt smudges, but he stubbornly doubled down.

“The mushrooms, the wild berries, and the freshly killed raw beasts in the forest are far better!” the elder lied through his teeth to his clan. He puffed out his chest, trying to reclaim his lost dignity. “The White Tiger Clan cannot be dismissed and fed like lowly beggars! We are proud warriors! We hunt!”

Ren’s left eye began to twitch violently. A prominent nerve threatened to burst right out of her forehead. This old man was so unbelievably stubborn and annoying! He was the ultimate, prehistoric Karen!

The starving members of the White Tiger Clan looked longingly, heartbreakingly at the bubbling cauldron of stew. But, bound by duty and tradition, they slowly turned away, their shoulders slumping as they intended to retreat back into the forest with the elder.

“Wait!” Kael’s booming voice called out to them.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes narrowing as he looked at his former clan.

“The clan is without a King, and the village is completely destroyed,” Kael stated loudly, using the sheer weight of logic to pierce their tradition. “You are all strays right now. There is no actual leader. So why are you taking orders from that old tiger?”

The clan hesitated, their ears swiveling toward Kael.

Kael pointed an accusing finger directly at the elder. “He filled his own stomach! He drank an entire bowl of the cure, and now he wants to leave! What about you? What about the cubs? Why should he have tried the stew, while you are ordered to leave and eat bitter berries and the rotting scraps of dead animals?!”

The clan stopped entirely, a ripple of unease and realization spreading through their ranks. They looked at the elder’s perfectly clean, grease-stained lips, and then down at their own empty, painfully rumbling stomachs.

Kael’s words struck a deep chord.

It wasn’t fair.

But the elder was a strong, unyielding dictator. In the hierarchy of the White Tiger Clan, the elders possessed the most wisdom and were the direct advisors to the King. With the King gone, the elder’s words were absolute gospel. To defy him was to defy the very foundation of their culture.

’I really, really hate dictators,’ Ren thought to herself, glaring daggers at the old beastman.

However, hunger and desperation are powerful forces that can shatter even the strongest traditions.

Despite the elder’s strict command to retreat, a sudden commotion broke out in the back of the crowd. A young White Tiger female pushed her way to the front. She rushed forward into the clearing, completely ignoring the elder’s shocked gasp.

In her arms, she cradled a tiny, frail tiger cub. Its breathing was frighteningly shallow, its usually pristine white fur dull, matted, and shedding.

The female didn’t look at Kael, and she didn’t look at the elder. She ran straight toward the fire pit and dropped heavily to her knees directly in front of Ren.

Tears gushed from the mother’s eyes, carving clean tracks through the dirt on her cheeks as she held her dying baby up toward the chef.

“Please!” the female begged, her voice cracking with sheer, desperate agony. “Please save my cub, Divine Savior!”

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