The North American Gourmet Demon Handbook

He lowered his head and looked at her, his eyes meeting her blue eyes that were looking up.

Her eyes were filled with passion and admiration. She moved her head hard, slowly swallowing deeper and deeper, and gradually began to use her throat.

Li Shanze simply stood up, lifted her up again, pressed her against the rough tree stump, and started the second round of beating.

Cumulonimbus clouds began to gather slowly again.

Author's words: Thanks to Qianxiao Anran, Shi Aji, and Xiaopingguo112633 for their recommendations

268 Three Executives

When Theodore Lancaster arrived at the conference room, someone was already waiting there.

"Aha! The favor of the goddess of fate! Look - our brave Argonauts have returned through the fog of Philadelphia!" A fat man stood up and spoke in a pompous tone as if he was singing an opera.

His final note vibrated three octaves in the conference room, and his carved cane tapped the ground to the beat of the aria.

"Hurry up and let the Muse record this historic moment! My dear Theseus, the things on your heels are not dew, but the pearls that solved the Minotaur's labyrinth!"

He opened his arms as if to embrace Theodore Lancaster.

His ivory cane leaned against his Hermès crocodile briefcase, and his hair was meticulously groomed and shiny.

An antique enamel pocket watch chain was pinned to the front of his bespoke Savile Row suit. Whenever the chain was opened, the sapphires inlaid on it would reflect a faint blue light at the collar, like some kind of carefully designed stage spotlight.

The fat man, speaking in an exaggerated tone as if he was performing a stage play, was Marco Giuseppe Romano, an executive of Johnson & Johnson.

Theodore Lancaster gave a polite smile, straightened his wrinkle-free suit jacket, and then waved his wooden stick forward to indicate a safe distance.

Marco Giuseppe Romano stood there calmly, his hands naturally taking out a cigar from his pocket and holding it in his mouth.

Theodore Lancaster smiled and said, "Mr. Romano, your passion for animal products always amazes me, just like the fragrance of your carefully crafted hair wax - I can even smell the last cry of a sperm whale in it."

Theodore Lancaster said with merciless sarcasm.

Marco Giuseppe Romano was holding a cigar, puffing out smoke from his mouth. Although the smile on his face was still warm, his eyes were very cold and far from friendly.

The two men looked at each other with a smile, with sword-like flashes between their brows.

At this time, the third smiling man spoke, but his accent had a hint of curry from the South Asian subcontinent.

"Alright! Alright! You two, we're all gathered here at Mr. James's request, not to quarrel! We all came here with a common goal, to rescue Alex, right? Don't be so inconsiderate!"

Theodore took out his handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose.

"Romano, do you smell a sticky accent in the room?" Theodore asked the fat Italian.

Romano shrugged and took another puff of his cigar - the implication being that I could only smell the aroma of my cigar and nothing else.

Romano had no desire to get involved in the feud between Vikram Chandrasekhar and Theodore Lancaster.

Anyway, none of the three of them liked each other, and since Theodore had turned his attention to Vikram Chandrasekhar again, Romano was happy to watch the fun.

Rather, Romano even expected that Theodore Lancaster would spit out some ivory.

The aggressive Theodore Lancaster did not disappoint him.

"It's a, well, how should I put it... a common smell in India, wafting all over the streets."

"The earthy aggregate announces its presence with irregular topological forms. Chromatographic analysis reveals it to be somewhere between 'expired curry yellow' and 'asphalt oxidized brown', suggesting it is an improvisation of the intestinal factory."

"The cracked surface texture suggests a malfunctioning colonic water recycling system, a failed experiment in fluid dynamics."

"Volatile sulfur compounds form the fundamental frequency of the odor, superimposed with the sharp overtones of branched-chain fatty acids, forming an aggressive olfactory symphony."

"It is suggested that it be defined as a 'microbial metabolic carnival commemorative fragrance', whose diffusion efficiency is sufficient to trigger the emergency plan of programmed death of olfactory epithelial cells."

Damn, you're full of medical jargon, do you remember you're a wizard? Is this just a roundabout way of mocking Vikram Chandrasekhar for speaking with an accent that smells like Indian shit?

Theodore, you're such a fucking racist! Good thing I am too.

Romano almost laughed out loud.

The flamboyant Italian guy felt that the only common language he had with the sarcastic old white Anglo-Saxon man was probably their racial discrimination against Vikram Chandrasekhar, an Indian.

However, Vikram Chandrasekhar seemed not to understand Theodore Lancaster's sarcasm and continued to smile, as if he didn't care at all about Theodore's insulting words.

"Now that you are here, please come in. Mr. James has been waiting for a long time." Vikram Chandrasekhar smiled and made a gesture of invitation to the conference room.

Smiling tiger.

Every time Romano saw Vikram Chandrasekhar's smile, which seemed to be indifferent to all insults, he felt inexplicably angry.

So he chooses to join the fight, and he says it pompously in a Shakespearean aria: "His laughter - the broken seventh string of Apollo's lyre,

He fell into the abyss of Tartarus during the feast of the gods.

The wrinkles at the corners of the eyes are a nautical chart carefully embroidered by the Siren.

Tricks honest sailors into pledging their souls to the breakers of the rock called Trust."

Vikram Chandrasekhar walked into the meeting room with his eyes not even changing and still smiling.

This reaction even made Marco Giuseppe Romano doubt whether he had just loudly mocked the Indian guy.

"It seems you're not a complete idiot after all," Theodore Lancaster said calmly as he walked past Marco Giuseppe Romano. "Since you improvised perfectly and executed the iambic pentameter, I won't hold it against you for sending your little boy to follow me."

After that, Theodore Lancaster also walked into the meeting room.

Hearing this, Romano's expression became uncertain.

What does this old man mean? I didn't send private detectives to follow him, I just asked them to investigate the RV - and that damn FBI undercover, he sent them to symbolically follow up on Alex's case.

Since a private investigator followed him...it means they discovered something, or at least had some suspicions...

This old man couldn't possibly not understand the real purpose of my sending a private investigator. Was he hinting to me that he had already obtained the RV? Was he trying to show off to me?

Is this old guy with obsessive-compulsive disorder who has to do everything himself trying to attack me?

Marco Giuseppe Romano, with a sullen look on his face, felt alarm bells ringing in his heart.

He exhaled a puff of smoke and walked into the meeting room with a serious expression.

What Marco Giuseppe Romano didn't expect was that the two private detectives who were discovered following Theodore Lancaster were none other than the damned "FBI informants" - the Vitali brothers.

Of course, they didn't make any discoveries, but they just couldn't refuse Li Shanze's request.

However, at this moment, the two brothers who had lost Theodore Lancaster were sitting in the dilapidated Ford Kuga and looking at each other.

"Kaguya Town?" Enzo looked at the road sign in disbelief, then at his phone, which had no signal. "What the hell is this place? Are we still in New Jersey?"

Al looked at the red Japanese torii gate in front of him, feeling a bit overwhelmed as he steered the wheel: "I, I don't know."

"Calm down, Al, we just took the wrong road. Let's recall - we started from Philadelphia and chased Theodore Lancaster's black Audi A8..." Enzo tried to recall the whole process of how they got lost.

Al quickly began to explain: "At first, we were heading east along Interstate 76."

"Yes, and then we crossed the Delaware River into New Jersey via the Burlington-Bristol Bridge," Enzo said.

Al nodded repeatedly. "Yes, then we turned onto New Jersey Route 413 northbound, where the Audi A8 stopped to refuel."

"Then it's Highway 1 heading north."

"We turned onto New Jersey Route 539... and then the Audi A8 suddenly slowed down, and we were forced to slow down as well."

"After passing through a forest, we lost track of the A8 and ended up here... This Kaguya Town looks like it should still be in New Jersey, but what the hell is this place?"

Al scratched his head in surprise: "Did the road fork in the woods?"

"You're asking me about the car you drive? Besides, isn't there only one way to get here through the woods?" Enzo asked back.

The brothers had no idea that the driver of the Audi A8 they were following was a wizard, who had simply used a little sleight of hand to lead them astray.

"Wait, Enzo. Look." Al pointed at the rearview mirror. "Wasn't it a birch forest we passed through when we came here? How did it become a bamboo forest?"

Enzo turned around suddenly when he heard that. Sure enough, the birch forest they had come from had disappeared, replaced by a lush green bamboo forest.

Enzo felt goosebumps all over his body.

"Damn it, I've been a private detective for so many years, but I've never encountered anything as strange as today!" Enzo used swear words to give himself courage.

He pulled out his pistol and released the safety: "We'd better be careful. This isn't some normal place."

By this time, the sun had reluctantly set, and indigo mist was slowly seeping out from between the bamboo trees.

Author's words: I forgot to set the timer before going to the hospital, Orz

269 ​​Kaguya Town

"What should we do? Keep going?" Al's forehead was covered with sweat. "Or turn back?"

"I don't think we can turn back," Enzo sighed.

It turned out that the moment Al said the words "turn back", the winding road they came from was shrouded in indigo mist.

Then, a bamboo forest rose from the ground, and the road they came from was submerged in the bamboo forest and disappeared.

"Keep driving forward." Enzo said helplessly.

Because the indigo mist was slowly spreading towards their car.

"I always feel that being caught up by that fog will not be good."

Al pounded his fist on the steering wheel in anger, and the car horn screamed in exasperation: "God damn it! Holy Mary! What the hell is going on?"

The scream of the Ford Kuga seemed to have touched some kind of switch, and two rows of Japanese paper lanterns gradually lit up and spread into the distance.

Light brown cotton paper is stretched between the four-sided frame, and the cotton thread is tied into the texture of the paper lantern at the corners. The ink marks swept by the brush are dyed with halos of light, illuminating the road.

All the paper lanterns were hung on the trees, weighing down the treetops, causing them to bow slightly to the Ford Kuga, just as respectfully as the Japanese bow to American soldiers.

"Are you welcoming us, Enzo?" Even Al, who was always reckless, found the scene extremely strange, and he subconsciously stepped on the brakes.

Especially the calligraphy on the paper lanterns, which looked like ghostly characters to Al and Enzo. He didn't know why, but when he saw such words, he felt a chill in his heart.

This was certainly a side effect of some kind of cultural isolation, where even the sight of kanji characters could scare white people, but two Italian private detectives driving a used car certainly had no way of knowing that.

"No, keep driving, follow the lantern! There is no other way, the fog and bamboo forest are catching up!" Enzo held on to the back of the chair with one hand, turned his head to observe the scene behind the car through the hazy taillights, and shouted with gritted teeth.

Hearing this, Al stepped on the accelerator and the Ford Escape started moving again. He glanced at the rearview mirror and cursed, "Damn it, we really should fix the rearview camera!"

"One thousand three hundred dollars, where do we get this spare money?" Enzo still twisted his head and hugged the seat, the veins on his neck popping out from the force.

"Didn't the godfather promise to pay us some money?" Al asked back.

"We must first repay his favor! Don't forget, it was he who rescued us from the FBI's jail! Think about it, if it weren't for Li stepping in, would the people caught by the FBI be able to get away easily without suffering a lot of losses?" Enzo said.

"Now we're stuck in this hellhole to repay him!" Al continued shouting.

Enzo knew that his brother was just venting his fear, so he had to say something loudly to give himself courage.

Complaining about a "big shot" is naturally a way to boost courage. It can give yourself the illusion that you are on an equal footing with the big shot through words.

So Enzo didn't take Al's words seriously, but this didn't stop him from teaching his brother a lesson - exercising the authority of a superior is also a way to gain courage.

Therefore, Enzo scolded: "Now we have lost the tracking and failed the job! Do you still expect to get paid? Drive faster! We have to survive first!"

The lanterns ahead continued to spread, while those behind gradually dimmed. Only after the car passed through another torii gate did the indigo mist finally stop moving with a sense of gloom.

The two brothers looked at the fog and stopped, and were left far behind by the car. They looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have we escaped from that damn place?" Al smiled.

"I hope so." Enzo also smiled, but the smile on his face faded immediately.

“But there’s still no cell phone signal.”

Immediately afterwards, the car passed through the third torii gate again, and the sign of Kaguya Town appeared in front of the two again.

However, this time, the front was not a bamboo forest that stretched as far as the eye could see, but a very quiet town - or more precisely, a town with a very Japanese style.

"To be exact, we've just arrived at this damn place." Enzo sighed, "We've broken into Kaguya Town."

Two drops of water bounced onto the car window.

An old woman in beige overalls was watering a dwarf cherry tree with a plain iron watering can, her hibiscus-colored leggings tied into a bow at her ankles.

The old woman looked at the car, but she didn't show much curiosity, as if she was already accustomed to the cars coming and going.

Several Tang umbrellas were held up like a formation of samurai at the corner of Sannomaru Street. Behind the red cloth curtain that had begun to fade, the sound of Tang mortars grinding rice could be heard.

A temple similar in style to Senso-ji Temple lay quietly half a mile away. The layers of Kaneda Shinto talismans affixed to the carved sashes still exuded the scent of ink, as if they had been freshly painted today.

Three old men wearing Hakama with chidori patterns stood on tiptoe, chatting while tidying up the stone tower for marriage next to the torii gate.