American comic book: Absolute Spider-Man

Chapter 107 Black men carry the coffin and hold a grand banquet.

Peter stood in the center of the stage, with a huge black and white portrait of the Ancient One behind him. She was bald, wearing a yellow robe, and had that familiar smile on her lips.

Below the stage, the Kamar-Taj priests and guests watched him deliver his speech.

Holding a funeral in the form of an electronic music festival wasn't particularly groundbreaking for many in attendance.

To become a mage, one must first possess boundless imagination and the creativity to break all established logic.

The younger generation of mage apprentices are mostly forward-thinking and unconventional, making them the elite of online forums and social media platforms.

The fact that these young men and women could meet in Kamar-Taj is like a clash of titans.

As for those with long-standing seniority?

A monk who lives to old age naturally, regardless of whether his style is ruthless or unconventional, has witnessed bizarre things that ordinary people could never even dream of.

In conclusion, if Peter hadn't made the Ancient One's funeral more creative, a lot of people might have fallen asleep on the spot.

Besides, the Ancient One didn't really die; it's just that she abandoned her duties.

The so-called funeral was nothing more than the newly appointed Supreme Master using this as an excuse to gather monks from all over the world together for a get-together and a party suitable for all ages.

After Peter finished his speech, he snapped his fingers.

A beam of white magic exploded from his fingertips, bursting into a giant skull in mid-air.

The skull opened its mouth and spat out a row of fluorescent pink words: "The Ancient One Memorial Electronic Music Festival officially begins. BPM 150, everyone stand up."

The curtain at the back of the stage was suddenly ripped open.

Six Ghanaian black sorcerers, all dressed in black suits, black shoes, and black sunglasses, carried a black coffin wrapped in colorful scriptures on their shoulders.

Their steps were perfectly synchronized, each step perfectly timed with the drumbeat.

The coffin was carried on his shoulders, rising and falling with a rhythm as precise as that of a professional coffin bearer.

The sound array played Astronomia, the iconic music of the Black Coffin Dance.

As the intro "Deng deng deng" began, all the monks present, regardless of age or gender, subconsciously started swaying their bodies to the rhythm.

The six coffin-carrying monks turned around at the same time, swayed the coffin on their shoulders, and began to swing back and forth and side to side, hand in hand, in perfect sync and with a perfectly synchronized rhythm.

The leader even used one hand to steadily adjust his sunglasses.

All the mages raised their glow sticks high and swayed in rhythm with the coffin.

Wang brought the microphone to his lips, his deep voice, amplified by effects, rumbled like a muffled thunderclap across the square: "Send the Supreme Mage on his final journey! Everyone, jump up!"

The sound array burst forth with dense drumbeats, a neon scripture waterfall cascaded down from the top of the stage, the disco ball spun faster, and the runes on the prayer wheels flashed at high frequency into alternating red and blue light bands.

The young monks below the stage had completely let loose.

Some people took off their mage robes and waved them as flags, some were swaying their hips in a very unorthodox way, and several female disciples of esoteric arts formed a small train, weaving in and out of the dance floor.

The older generation, while not as unrestrained as the younger generation, also picked up their smartphones to record the funeral of the Venerable Master.

Peter looked at Kamar-Taj and the sorcerers, who were celebrating as if it were a festival, and suddenly a question came to mind.

If these guys get carried away, what if they look forward to this kind of holiday every year from now on?

The Ancient One is dead, so if you want to celebrate this festival again, you'll have to sacrifice him, the Sorcerer Supreme.

No, we must designate the anniversary of the Ancient One's death as the Ancient One Ascension Day, and hold a grand celebration every year.

After all the commotion, it's time to eat.

Kamar-Taj has a diverse population, with magical seeds from all over the world being recruited through various means.

The difference in eating habits determines that the nature of the meal in this setting should not be a continuous banquet, but a buffet-style feast.

Peter personally coordinated the culinary team.

Stark Industries' executive chef brought his entire kitchen team to oversee all the hot and cold dishes in the Western-style dining area.

Several local chefs at Kamar-Taj are in charge of Tibetan and Himalayan cuisine, with the most popular dish being a special yak meat bun.

The dough is made from barley flour and ghee, and the filling is slow-cooked yak meat mixed with wild onions and mushrooms. When it comes out of the pot, the steam carries the aroma of meat and rises upwards. The queue stretches from the food counter all the way to the center of the square.

A bald, expressionless sorcerer was squatting in front of the sushi counter in the Japanese food section, using levitation magic to control three sashimi knives simultaneously.

The salmon slices are sliced ​​into extremely thin pieces in mid-air and then automatically arranged on an ice platter.

The Tom Yum soup base from the Southeast Asian section was bubbling away on the induction cooker, its sour and spicy aroma wafting over and colliding with the curry smell from the Indian section next door, only to be pushed away by the smoky aroma of Jollof Rice and roasted chicken from the African section.

The Chinese food area had the biggest setup.

A row of eight food counters is arranged along the pillars on the east side of the square, representing all eight major Chinese cuisines: Shandong, Sichuan, Guangdong, Jiangsu, Fujian, Zhejiang, Hunan, and Anhui.

The stove was set up on the spot, and the fumes from the iron pot, along with the aromas of various spices, swirled and rolled in the air above the square. Just smelling it was enough to turn all the energy you had used up from dancing into a strong appetite.

At the Sichuan cuisine counter, an old master chef was simultaneously flipping three iron woks, the spatulas of which were larger than ordinary people's shovels.

When tossing the wok, the entire wok is lifted half a meter off the stove, and the flames at the bottom of the wok are controlled by incantations to form fire dragons that swirl around the edge of the wok.

Mapo tofu, boiled beef, and spicy diced chicken were all snapped up as soon as they were served, by the apprentices waiting in front of the table.

The Cantonese cuisine table was set up in a completely different manner, with a middle-aged monk with a buzz cut simmering a pot of slow-cooked soup with extremely restrained heat.

The savory aroma of dried scallops, shiitake mushrooms, and old hen seeped out from the cracks in the casserole lid, wafting over to the Fujian cuisine counter next door where it was enveloped by the rich, mellow fragrance of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

Next to him were two apprentices peeling shrimp dumpling wrappers with extreme impatience, throwing each one into the steamer as it steamed steadily.

At the Hunan cuisine counter, several young apprentices from southern Hunan were cooking themselves. The fumes from the stir-fried pork with chili peppers were so strong that the Zhejiang cuisine section next door, which couldn't handle spicy food very well, had to add an air barrier.

Several batches of braised sea cucumber with scallions have already been served in the Shandong cuisine section, but each time they are taken away immediately by the people in front of the table as soon as they are served.

The squirrel-shaped mandarin fish in the Suzhou cuisine section was fried until golden and crispy, and it was still sizzling after being drizzled with tomato sauce. Several apprentices gathered around the counter were holding up their phones to record short videos.

At the Anhui cuisine counter, a master chef was peeling a piece of fermented tofu off the fermentation cloth and handing it to the apprentice next to him to cook. The apprentice hesitated for half a second when he took it, but was glared at by the master chef and turned back.

Peter carried a plate and kept stuffing the food piled on it into his mouth as he walked.

Just as he was considering whether he should set the date for the Ancient One's Ascension Day, he suddenly noticed two people walking straight toward him.

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