"Whew."

It took Liu Zheng a full half minute to swim through that oily mist.

"I thought you were going to drown in there."

Bullhorse said with schadenfreude.

"Drowning wasn't the risk—getting greased to death was more likely."

He replied while observing his surroundings.

There was no bustling crowd scene as he had imagined. The interior of the Black Market remained eerily quiet.

Only faint light seeped through the cracks of doors lining both sides of the pathway.

"Which door do we enter?"

Liu Zheng asked.

"That depends on how you plan to acquire startup capital."

Bullhorse said.

"You don't have any money?"

"The little money I had was spent on that red wine last time. Did you really think it was stolen?"

Bullhorse exclaimed.

"You paid money and still got beaten that badly?"

"Discounted prices naturally come with getting discounted first."

Bullhorse said as if it were obvious.

"Oh. So what options do we have?"

He asked.

"Two. First, you pawn that vest you're wearing, earn some money, then redeem it later."

Bullhorse said.

"No way."

Liu Zheng flatly refused.

Without the enhancement from the legendary deliveryman's vest, his combat power would drop by at least two-thirds.

"Then we can only choose the second option—you sell meat."

Bullhorse shrugged.

"Sell meat?"

Liu Zheng's expression shifted dramatically.

Life is precious indeed, but dignity costs even more.

"Let's be clear—I'll only be a host boy."

He gritted his teeth.

"Dream on! I'd want that job too. The worst host boys in the Black Market are incubuses—you think a tentacled freak like you qualifies?"

Bullhorse said disdainfully.

"Then what did you mean? Oh, you meant actually selling meat."

Liu Zheng suddenly understood.

He remembered those security guards asking him for "meat."

"Exactly."

Bullhorse said.

"You're too fat right now anyway—perfect time to lose some weight."

Amid its sarcastic tone, the two moved toward the third door on the right.

As soon as they entered, a wave of heat washed over them.

Liu Zheng narrowed his eyes as the intense firelight inside stung his eyeballs.

Over a dozen furnaces stood in rows, each holding a large iron cauldron.

Countless chunks of meat hung from meat hooks suspended from the ceiling beams, dangling above the iron pots.

Behind the iron pots, a massive figure stood with its back to them, intently turning iron skewers in the fireplace.

His physique was so enormous that he almost completely blocked the fireplace's flames.

Pink muscle bundles bulged prominently, covered with crisscrossing scars.

It was hard to imagine how one person could have so many scars—as if he had endured every form of punishment in the world.

"Oink."

Bullhorse greeted him.

Its unusually polite tone made Liu Zheng glance sideways in surprise. Check latest chapters at n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

Hearing his name called, Oink turned around.

A pig's head—apparently of the Yorkshire large white breed.

But his eyes were unmistakably human, even more profound and resolute than most humans'.

"Long time no see, Bullhorse. I thought you'd already been made into delivery food by now."

Oink said calmly.

His voice was deep and powerful—if you didn't look at his face, you could easily imagine a charming mature man.

"Besides you, nobody can turn me into a dish."

Bullhorse said proudly.

"So you're here to sell meat again today? Which part this time—hooves, horse intestines, or beef tongue?"

A faint smile appeared on Oink's face.

"I've got nothing left for you to cut. He's the one selling meat today."

Bullhorse pushed Liu Zheng forward.

"Oh, looks like good quality meat."

Oink rested his chin on his hand as he appraised him.

"A hint of humanity, a touch of deformity, and the distinct scent of black goat."

He said leisurely, as if evaluating a fine dish.

"You've heard the Gospel too?"

Oink suddenly asked.

"Probably, I guess."

Liu Zheng replied.

That memory was somewhat fuzzy, as if something had washed over it.

"Excellent. Haven't seen ingredients of your quality in a long time."

Oink nodded, appearing somewhat excited.

"So, how much are you selling?"

He stared at Liu Zheng.

"What's the price?"

He asked.

"For meat of your quality, I can give you two thousand per pound."

Oink said after some thought.

"How many pounds do I have?"

Liu Zheng didn't know his own weight.

"Fifteen pounds."

Oink replied.

Thirty thousand—equivalent to two and a half years of his salary.

"Is this price fair?"

Liu Zheng asked Bullhorse.

"You should be celebrating, kid. I only fetch fifteen hundred per pound."

Bullhorse said somewhat jealously.

"Becoming an empty shell for two and a half years' salary doesn't sound very cost-effective."

He shook his head.

"Meat can be regrown. Employees at your restaurant should have plenty of such opportunities."

Oink said.

Liu Zheng knew he was referring to those foods that could compensate for deficiencies.

"I remember if someone sells all their meat at once, the purchase price doubles, right?"

Bullhorse suddenly spoke up.

"Correct."

Oink nodded.

"Desperation-induced madness makes the meat texture firmer and the flavor more unique."

He extended his grayish-white tongue and licked his pig snout.

"Then he'll sell everything."

Bullhorse quickly said.

"When did I—"

Liu Zheng started to object but saw Bullhorse frantically signaling him with its eyes.

He paused, then remembered the props advanced to him by the plane tree.

So that's it—this really is a high-stakes gamble.

But, alright then.

"The reason?"

Oink looked at Liu Zheng with interest.

"He—"

"Shut up."

Bullhorse started to speak but was cut off by Oink.

The pig-headed man slowly stood up, facing both of them.

The iron skewer in his hand held an entire pig front leg, its skin already roasted golden brown.

Fat continuously dripped from it, sizzling as it hit the charcoal fire.

"I was asking him."

Oink said in a deep voice.

The standing pig-headed man appeared even taller, his head almost touching the ceiling beams.

Liu Zheng noticed an old ligature mark around his neck.

Bullhorse shrugged and closed its mouth.

Clearly, it didn't want to confront Oink.

"The reason?"

The pig-headed man asked again.

"Of course because I need money."

Liu Zheng looked at him strangely.

Who sells meat if not for money?

"What will you do with the money?"

Oink didn't get angry but continued questioning.

"Buy the Bloody Restaurant and make it work for me."

He pointed at Bullhorse.

"Hey, you bastard."

Bullhorse glared and was about to hit him, but stopped by Oink's gaze.

"You're so exploited that you need to sell meat, yet you want to use the money to exploit others?"

Oink's tone seemed to carry a chilling coldness.

"Just boasting. I'm struggling to survive right now—need something practical to keep me going."

Liu Zheng said with a smile.

"Interesting. I'll take your meat."

Oink laughed three times, then casually threw the iron skewer into the fireplace.

Orange flames suddenly surged, reducing the front leg to ashes.

"Such waste."

Liu Zheng swallowed saliva.

He recognized that wasn't a front leg.

"Want to eat? Pick one."

Oink pointed at the iron pots.

"Every guest who sells all their meat gets a bowl of soup from me."

"Now, let's see your luck."