The massive explosion sent shockwaves through the air.
The display windows of the ‘Watchdog Pastry House’ were shattered outright.
So were the display windows of the surrounding shops.
Amidst the clatter of falling glass shards, Edward rushed outside immediately.
Jason was a step behind and said to the female pastry chef, who was once again stupefied:
“Do your job, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Having said that, Jason caught up with Edward.
The female pastry chef nodded subconsciously at the sight of Jason’s retreating figure, then she looked around at the shattered counter, the blood-stained floor, the broken display windows, and the fire rising from across the street… Wasn’t it agreed that the war was over?
In her daze, the female pastry chef started picking up one egg after another, automatically separating the yolks and whites into a bowl, instinctively stirring.
Edward’s face was gloomy.
Jason asked in return.
Edward nodded slightly.
“Such a handy thing, no hunter would use it just once.”
Jason said this slowly as he placed the dustpan filled with glass shards to one side of the shop’s entrance.
After that, the not-so-foolish Edward seemed to think of something.
All at once, his face grew even uglier.
A few seconds passed before Edward’s complexion returned to normal.
“Probably because you’re stronger than that Sandwick guy?”
“You’re willing to collect the bodies of your own men.”
Jason said as he walked into the shop.
He had already smelled the fragrance of the freshly baked trough cakes.
He had waited for quite a while.
Watching Jason’s retreating figure, Edward opened his mouth to speak, but in the end, he said nothing.
After leaving some people to preserve the scene, Edward personally drove back to the police station.
Jason didn’t notice any of this.
At that moment, Jason was standing quietly in front of the stove.
The scents of eggs and honey began to spread under the high heat, and Jason couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.
Just as the female pastry chef had said, the freshly baked trough cakes were much tastier than those left overnight, at least twice as fragrant.
An even richer fragrance hit him, and Jason closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, his face a picture of bliss.
The female pastry chef, wearing heatproof gloves, carried the mold filled with trough cakes, upended it, and the cakes fell into a nearby container.
After tumbling for a few turns, the somewhat thickened, biscuit-shaped trough cakes stood still within.
The tops were a brownish red, with slight cracks revealing a hint of golden yellow.
The bottom was slightly scorched, but not at all off-putting, rather it made one’s mouth water even more, wanting to taste that particular flavor.
That’s how Jason felt.
He picked up a hot trough cake and bit into the bottom first.
For within the simple sweetness was a hint of a sour, refreshing tang.
He must have added a touch of lemon juice to the oil smeared on the bottom during baking.
Jason speculated as he swallowed the rest of the trough cake in his hand.
The crispy and soft texture made Jason pick up another one right away.
Almost one bite per cake.
Quickly, twenty trough cakes went down Jason’s throat.
The female pastry chef brought over a cup of mint water.
Jason took it and drained it in one gulp.
After a satisfying exhale, Jason’s gaze involuntarily swept across the surrounding counters.
He remembered they didn’t just sell trough cakes here.
There were other pastries as well.
“How soon can you resume business?”
The female pastry chef, who was considering how to make Jason stay, was startled.
Before the pastry chef could regain her composure—