Chapitre 1789: Slash

A moment before Cripple Inn of the slum exploded, Kieran put down the cake and started to lick his fingers clean without caring about the despising gazes in his surroundings.

It was the best way to not waste food in Kieran's perspective.

As for hygiene? 

To others, it wasn't as hygenic but for Kieran, it was really nothing.

He could now digest almost anything he consumed, both alive and dead.

It was nothing more than whether he wanted to eat or not.

Kuer Horton wanted to mickmick Kieran but when he caught his father's judgmental gaze, he wisely picked up a handkerchief to clean himself.

"Why don't we go for a stroll in the garden?" Kuer Horton asked as he wiped his hand.

"Sure," Kieran nodded.

The dinner was over and he didn't want to face a bunch of judging gazes from a bunch of strangers, so going away seemed a decent option.