I cut off a large piece of snake meat; this piece probably weighs about two or three pounds.

Then they chopped off about a pound of meat and bone from the snake's tail. The tail had more bones than meat, making it inconvenient to eat.

Naturally, it should be used to feed Pat. Pat is still growing and needs more calcium, so feeding him is the most suitable option.

After removing the head and tail, there were still several pounds of snake meat left. Unfortunately, I don't have a refrigerator here, otherwise I really wanted to refrigerate it and eat it fresh for a couple more days.

It was a pity, but having something to eat was better than having nothing at all. I chopped the snake meat into large pieces and laid them out in a row on the flat stone slab I had prepared beforehand next to the stove to roast slowly.

I boiled another pot of water and scalded the grouse I had caught several times. Scalding the grouse with boiling water makes it much easier to process.

The grouse I caught earlier were relatively easy to pluck, but the feathers on their wings and heads were not so easy to pluck. In the end, I could only turn a blind eye and cook and eat them.

If conditions allow, I would still prefer to clean them thoroughly before cooking.

Cut open the grouse's belly, and you'll find a small amount of golden chicken fat inside. This fat is very fragrant and is absolutely delicious when used to mix with noodles.

It's quite lucky to find chicken fat in a wild grouse, even though this particular grouse only has a little bit of it.

Living in the wild, grouse, whose days are filled with uncertainty, are always ready to take flight and avoid danger.

Therefore, it is destined that they will have difficulty storing fat in their bodies. The fact that they can store this amount of fat proves that the safety of this chicken's diet and habitat has surpassed that of other flocks of chickens.

However, this also indirectly proves that there are relatively few predators on the mountain I'm on. At least they are sparsely distributed, otherwise these grouse would definitely not have such an easy life.

As usual, I only took the heart and liver from the grouse's internal organs. The remaining intestines and other parts, which contained chicken droppings, were more troublesome to handle.

Considering that Pat wasn't full after eating that little bit of snake meat, and that the internal organs are a very balanced source of nutrients, these organs are the perfect food to feed Pat.

After eating the offal, Pat gave me a satisfied look, then tilted his head, closed his eyes, and started to doze off.

I'm going to take out a piece of lard and stir-fry the prepared snake meat and chopped pine nut meat first.

But when I went to check the storage platform, I was dumbfounded to find that the last piece of lard had vanished.

I soon discovered the clue. My lard was wrapped in banana leaves.

I found a banana leaf in the corner of the rock wall. It had some fine teeth marks and chisel marks on it, which meant that something had bitten it open and eaten it.

Based on the oil stains scattered in the corner of the stone wall, I can roughly determine that the ants must have discovered my lard first.

They used their front jaws to crush the banana leaves, creating those fine bite marks.

However, the ants couldn't carry away such a large lump of lard, so they could only divide it into small pieces and mix it, leaving oil stains on the stone walls along the way.

Later, a rodent, perhaps a mountain rat, followed the smell of the oil stains to find the location of my lard. It thoroughly bit open the banana leaf, ate all the lard inside, and then left.

"Damn mountain rats, I'll make you pay, and those ants too!"

I stared fiercely at the direction of the stone wall, as if it would appear beside me at any moment and be my target for revenge.

Since I ran out of lard, I had no choice but to render all the chicken fat I had. I was originally reluctant to use the chicken fat for stir-frying; I planned to use it to make sesame oil for taro noodles.

But there's no other way now, so I have to reluctantly give up what I love and deal with my stomach problem first.

The rendered grouse oil is a very clear, pale yellow liquid with a strong chicken aroma, a smell I've only ever encountered in things like chicken bouillon.

When the grouse oil is heated to a high temperature in a metal pot, it soon starts to smoke.

With a slurp, I poured the chicken pieces and snake meat into the pot together and started stir-frying them over high heat.

Soon the chicken skin shrank slightly, turning a pale yellow color and emitting a fragrant, caramelized aroma. The snake meat also changed to a similar state, becoming golden brown and fragrant.

I moved the golden pot, along with the chicken and snake meat inside, off the earthen stove, and put my covered clay pot, filled with half a pot of water, back on the fire.

After a while, the lid of the pot made a series of popping sounds, which meant that the water inside had boiled.

I poured the chicken and snake meat from the golden pot into the casserole, then added some dried lichen, covered it with the ceramic lid, and simmered it over low heat.

As time went on, Top and I grew restless. The aroma of the Dragon and Phoenix Soup was already incredibly tempting, and now our ingredients were wild grouse and king cobra, the king of venomous snakes, stewed together.

The aroma was irresistible; Top and I unconsciously swallowed, staring longingly at the casserole, hoping it would be ready soon.

After simmering for twenty minutes, perhaps because we were hungry, we really didn't want to wait any longer.

The entire place was filled with the aroma of snake soup and chicken, and Top and I were practically drooling.

It felt like a million ants and caterpillars had entered our hearts, scratching at us until we were unbearably itchy.

Top couldn't wait any longer. It brought out bowls and chopsticks and placed them on the clean white dining table, pointing at the stewing dragon and phoenix soup and squeaking.

Well, that's fine for today. Anyway, it's cooked through after cooking for so long. I used two pieces of bark to lift the casserole, and then poured the fragrant snake meat and chicken pieces, along with the broth, into two large soup bowls.

There's no way to fit everything in one soup bowl; it's too big for just one bowl. The whole pot was poured out and filled one bowl completely, plus a little less than half a bowl.

Top grabbed his chopsticks and scooped up pieces of chicken with wide, sweeping motions. He then put them in his mouth and chewed with satisfaction, his monkey-like face beaming as if he had ascended to heaven.

I've had this soup before, but this is the first time I've seen it made with such luxurious ingredients. Just looking at these ingredients, you can't even imagine it without spending several thousand dollars.

The Dragon and Phoenix Soup is still the familiar milky white color, but after cooking with grouse oil, a layer of light golden oil floats on top, making it even more beautiful against the pure white background.

Scooping up a spoonful of broth, I noticed that there was no trace of lichen anymore, but the broth had become thicker.

I know this is because the lichen has been thoroughly stewed and melted into the broth by the high heat of the clay pot, and the gelatinous substance in the lichen makes the broth thicker.

I blew on the steaming soup in the bowl, took a small sip, and exclaimed, "Delicious!"