I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 78: So Hard to Please

In truth, Eric had wanted to get rid of the fish-scaling knife for a long time, but having it was better than nothing. He chided himself for not thinking sooner of asking weapon experts like the Dwarves to forge a proper kitchen knife for him.

He held the gleaming cleaver in his hand, afraid that a single chop might crack the courtyard floor, so he dragged the trotter outside and placed a wooden board underneath.

A loud "clang" rang out, leaving only a white mark on the trotter. A dark look crossed Eric’s face as he realized this must be the trotter of a high-level magic beast. He switched to another one and swung down. This time, the knife sank halfway in and got stuck fast.

He held the trotter firmly with his foot and used all his strength to pull the knife out. The moment the knife loosened a bit, he yanked with all his might, sending both himself and the knife tumbling backward.

Luban rushed forward to catch him, but another figure was faster, steadily catching Eric. Having regained his composure, he leaned against the person’s shoulder, his hand habitually rising to stroke his ear to calm his nerves.

[That was close, I almost kissed the ground].

He glanced over and saw Luban still had his hands outstretched, thinking to himself that it was a good thing it wasn’t him who caught him, or he would have been crushed flat.

He turned his head. A figure, backlit by the sun, smiled at him, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.

"Eric, you’re so clumsy. You can’t even chop this?"

It was Michael. Eric scratched his head in embarrassment.

"This trotter is too tough, the knife got stuck. Thanks, Michael, or I would’ve had a bruised backside today."

"Haha, Eric, what delicious thing are you making now? It smells amazing!"

Kevin’s booming voice came from the gate. The group had just returned from a hunt, still covered in dust, carrying several wild chickens in their hands.

Eric gladly invited them in. He was surprised to see that Max had come too, though his face was still grim from the other day’s incident.

Kevin curiously peeked into the distilling vat, about to stick his hand in when Grass slapped the back of it with a sharp "thwack."

"If you get it dirty, what are we supposed to drink?"

Michael let go of Eric, thinking to himself, it seems we really did misunderstand. Max didn’t even run over to catch Eric when he was about to fall.

Eric set to work processing the wild chickens. He was already familiar enough with everyone not to be overly polite; they knew how to help themselves to food.

Sure enough, Kevin quickly discovered the bowl of tofu patties and called everyone over to try them.

Michael, however, paid no mind. He picked up the cleaver and effortlessly chopped the rock-hard pile of trotters into small pieces.

When he was done, seeing Max still standing motionless in the courtyard, he felt a bit guilty and called Max over to have some patties with him.

Max walked over silently, but his expression remained as cold as ever. He took the bowl of patties Michael offered, then looked him up and down with a strange, scrutinizing gaze.

Michael felt his skin crawl under the stare, not understanding what he had done wrong. He took a patty and scurried over to Eric’s side to help with the chickens. Even so, he could still feel a cold gaze fixed on his back.

Eric asked Michael to portion the chicken, then went to stew the trotters, still using the same three flavors as yesterday: braised in soy sauce, spicy stew, and braised with ginger and lemongrass.

The Dwarves had already started to leave, with only Luban and Bruno remaining. Eric suddenly remembered calling Bruno "uncle" when they first met, only to find out later that he was just a few years older. The thought made him cringe.

He looked at the pile of gifts the Dwarves had brought, mostly wheat, rice, and a lot of soybeans. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he remembered their astonished faces upon learning that the exquisite white liquor was brewed from the very sorghum they had disdainfully refused to trade for.

Food comes first. Eric couldn’t shake off his habit of eating rice. A full meal of rice was still better than just eating meat and vegetables.

He ground the wheat into flour and then marinated the chicken to prepare for fried fish sauce chicken. His courtyard now resembled an outdoor festival, filled with the aroma of alcohol, simmering stews, and fragrant grilled meat.

The children, after running around for a while, returned with lots of fresh shrimp and fish. Eric immediately made crispy fried shrimp, and used the shrimp heads to make a wonderfully sweet soup with tofu.

He then made a bowl of his family’s signature barbecue marinade, stir-frying garlic and chili while adding sweet bean sauce and soy sauce, stirring until the sauce thickened.

While he was busy, Max remained unusually silent. Seeing this, Michael picked up a piece of hot grilled meat, went into the house, and brought it to Eric’s mouth.

"Hey, Eric, you two really don’t have..." he leaned in and whispered.

Eric sighed: "We really don’t. Max just sees me as a younger brother."

Hearing this, Michael suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for him. Eric was so well-behaved and understanding now, and so pitiful. He suddenly felt that Max really didn’t know how to appreciate him.

Just as he was about to sigh, a chill ran down his spine. He turned his head suspiciously and met Max’s ice-cold gaze, which was fixed in their direction.

Michael scratched his head, confused.

Could Max still be angry about the other day? But it wasn’t just his fault, was it?

Lately, Max’s temperament was as erratic as a female in heat—so hard to please.

Everything was prepared and in its place.

Eric used small branches to skewer the gray rabbits. There were still many rabbits left from the ones brought back yesterday; only a few heads and legs had been used, while the torsos remained whole.