"Before we begin dining, I’d like to introduce tonight’s menu to you."
Cassandra gracefully picked up a menu made of living paper, the text on which seemed to automatically adjust its content according to the reader’s emotional state:
"Every dish tonight has its special origin and significance."
The first dish was quickly served.
It was a plate of seemingly ordinary dark red fruits, but Ron immediately noticed something unusual.
The surfaces of these fruits had fine pores and were undergoing subtle breathing movements.
"These are ’Blood Fruits’, from the Tree-man tribe of the Nodra Forest."
Cassandra introduced with a certain sense of satisfaction in her voice:
"The Tree-men use these fruits as their staple food, which contain concentrated life essence and memory fragments."
She gently cut open one of the fruits, and a faint green mist instantly rose.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of the forest, mixed with an indescribable smell of decay.
"After consumption, it temporarily grants the Tree-men’s life perception ability and also lets you experience the memory fragments stored in the fruit." Cassandra continued to explain:
"Of course, most of these memories are about death and suffering, but there’s also some valuable information."
Ron tasted a small piece and immediately felt a flood of chaotic memory fragments rush into his mind:
The laughter in the forest, the sudden onslaught of terrifying flames, the Tree-men’s cries of despair, and... the conqueror’s indifferent face.
"How are the Tree-men of Nodra now?" Uther calmly inquired.
"They chose to resist." Cassandra’s tone turned cold:
"Regrettably, now the Nodra Forest has been reduced to scorched earth.
However, we preserved enough biological samples, including the seeds of these Blood Fruits.
Perhaps one day, we can cultivate this species again in a more suitable environment."
Upon hearing this, Eve’s hands slightly trembled as she held her utensils: "The entire species has been..."
"Completely annihilated by my own hands." Cassandra said explicitly:
"Their level of civilization was too low to contribute anything valuable to our development. Keeping them would have only wasted resources."
The second dish instilled a deep discomfort in everyone present.
It was a still swimming translucent fish, its beating heart and flowing blood clearly visible within its body.
Even more terrifying was the obvious glimmer of intelligence in the fish’s eyes.
"This is a ’Thought Fish’, from the intelligent deep-sea race of Crystal Waters."
Cassandra used a specially designed fork to pin down the struggling fish:
"They possess a level of intelligence comparable to humans, capable of complex thought processes through bioelectricity."
When the fork pierced the fish’s body, it let out a sound almost resembling a human scream.
Its eyes flickered intensely, as if engaging in a final contemplation.
"Eating fresh Thought Fish can temporarily enhance brain activity and boost logical thinking abilities."
Cassandra continued speaking, seemingly oblivious to the expressions on the others’ faces:
"Of course, it must be consumed while still alive; the effect fades rapidly after death."
"Cassandra..." Uther said angrily, "This is live dissection, not dining."
"What difference does it make?" the Witch retorted, a puzzled look in her eyes:
"Aren’t the animals we usually consume also alive? Just because these fish have sentience, should they be accorded special status?"
She elegantly placed a piece of fish in her mouth: "Wisdom shouldn’t be a get-out-of-death-free card, especially when such wisdom doesn’t serve higher civilization."
Ron looked at the fish on the plate still weakly struggling, and a complex emotion surged inside him.
From a purely logical standpoint, Cassandra’s viewpoint was indeed flawless.
But looking into those eyes slowly losing their glow, he couldn’t help but feel a visceral discomfort.
The appearance of the next dish froze the atmosphere in the dining room entirely.
It was a seemingly ordinary bowl of thick soup, with some semi-transparent spherical objects floating on its surface.
Upon closer inspection, each sphere contained a miniaturized brain, with faint neural activity still ongoing.
"This is ’Wisdom Soup’," Cassandra said with unusual solemnity:
"Made from the brains of the ’Scholar Species’.
The Scholar Species is a sentient race wholly devoted to the accumulation of knowledge; their brains, evolved over millions of years, possess unparalleled information storage and processing capabilities."
She lifted the ladle, gently stirring the liquid:
"Each brain sphere contains the lifetime’s worth of knowledge of one scholar.
Consuming this soup offers a chance to acquire some fragments of knowledge."
Ron looked at those brains in the soup, still faintly flickering, and felt a strong wave of nausea.
Yet, at the same time, he realized a horrifying fact.
From a purely utilitarian perspective, Cassandra’s logic was indeed unassailable.
"I think I understand the Tower Master’s intention."
He said calmly, with not a trace of emotion in his voice:
"The strong have the right to use all aspects of the weak, including their lives, wisdom, and even their very existence."
"Exactly." Cassandra nodded in satisfaction:
"I knew you would understand. This is the fundamental law of the universe — the survival of the fittest, the strong rule."
"But I have one more question." Ron continued: "If this mode of plunder persists, what will we ultimately become?"