Is it good?

When Joss arrived at Stark Tower carrying a box of fried chicken, the reaction of the crowd was quite... ordinary.

Just as mentioned before, Joss had not been lucky enough to transmigrate into some medieval fantasy realm. In a modern setting like Marvel's, items like fried chicken and cola were simply too common—so common that no one would spare them a second glance.

Well, except for one person.

"What is this? Is this food from Earth?!" Thor's eyes glowed as he stared at the tray, completely abandoning any shred of dignity as he lunged forward, grabbed a piece of fried chicken, and began devouring it.

Joss was not surprised by this guy, who had never tasted anything decent and would get as happy as a three-hundred-pound child over a glass of beer. He simply beckoned to the others and said, "Come and try some, everyone. This is our newly developed fried chicken, completely different from those flashy and cheap imitations out there."

Hearing this, Steve shook his head. "No thanks. Fried food has way too many calories and will affect my training. And you too, Thor, eating too much of this stuff will impact your agility."

"Right, to maintain my figure, I'll pass too." Natasha shrugged, wearing a helpless expression.

Tony glanced sideways before looking away, curling his lip. "Forget it, I just had foie gras for lunch made by our family chef (a top-tier professional making a hundred thousand a month), so I'm not really in the mood for anything greasy. Besides, isn't fried chicken a bit beneath my standards?"

"What is with that parenthetical remark you just made?!"

The reactions of the others were much the same; it seemed none of them were particularly eager to try it.

This was hardly surprising. For superheroes, maintaining their physique served practical value alongside aesthetic appeal. Take Tony, for instance—if he stopped watching his diet, he wouldn't be able to squeeze into the Iron Man armor within just a few months.

"I'll have a bit. Haven't tasted Earth food in years." Naturally, where there were those who cared, there were those who didn't. Bruce Banner, whose body was constantly shifting in size anyway, walked over with a chuckle and took a piece.

Encouraged by him and Thor, Nick Fury, Hawkeye, and the others also politely stepped up to take a few pieces. After all, their body control wasn't as strict as Steve's, nor did they want to make Joss lose face, so they naturally felt obliged to show some support.

"Still, the stuff he makes... probably won't taste very good..." Nick Fury hesitated inwardly as he looked at the fried chicken before him.

Although the aroma smelled decent, he had unfortunately witnessed Joss cooking instant ramen in the S.H.I.E.L.D. dormitory. He had already mentally categorized the taste of this fried chicken as dark cuisine.

Hawkeye didn't think too much about it. After all, without seeing it with one's own eyes, it was hard to believe someone's cooking could be as terrible as Joss's, yet he naturally didn't hold high expectations either.

To be fair, most people present shared his train of thought. After all, fried chicken was just fried chicken. Even if Joss claimed it was made with a secret recipe, it was still ordinary fast food. How could it possibly compare to the high-end culinary dishes served daily at Stark Tower?

"Hey? Nick? What's wrong with you?" Natasha looked at Nick Fury with some confusion. After taking a bite of the fried chicken, the man had frozen in place as if bound by telekinesis.

"This spicy kick... is this heaven? No... it's the fiery heat of hell, yet it's so intoxicating. This deliciousness that goes straight to the soul—is this really just a piece of fried chicken?" Ignoring Natasha's question, Nick Fury muttered to himself while staring at the bitten piece of fried chicken, as if his consciousness had been dragged off to another dimension.

Compared to the suddenly poetic Nick Fury, Bruce and Thor's reactions were much more direct. The two of them each guarded a side, their hands moving incessantly as they stuffed piece after piece of fried chicken into their mouths.

"Hey, hey? What's wrong with you guys...? Joss, is there something wrong with your fried chicken?" Sam Wilson, the Super Backpack Guy, frowned as he looked at Joss, clearly suspecting that the latter had slipped some kind of drug into the chicken.

"Something wrong? That's because it's delicious, of course."

Joss didn't feel any dissatisfaction toward someone he wasn't very familiar with. With a smile, he picked up a piece of fried chicken and shoved it into Sam's mouth with an aura determined to choke him to death.

"Eat the chicken, man!"

"Ooh ooh ooh ooh!!! What kind of deliciousness is this?!?!"

Watching Joss and the others act out a scene reminiscent of a crosstalk performance, the remaining individuals felt a sliver of doubt creep into their eyes.

"Um... Joss, can I have a piece too?" Natasha's eyes shimmered. In the end, her curiosity for good food finally triumphed over her dedication to staying in shape, and she couldn't help stepping forward to take a piece.

"I'm telling you guys..." Steve pressed a hand to his forehead, shaking his head and sighing.

...

"Ooh ooh?! This flavor, it's amazing!" Hawkeye took another fierce bite of the fried chicken, his eyes instantly flashing with a cannibalistic... no, just a regular excited expression.

Tony looked at the fried chicken in his hand, subconsciously twitching his neatly trimmed eyebrows, and praised in the same vein, "This tastes even better than the dishes made by the chef hired by the Stark family (a top-tier professional making a hundred thousand a month)! So good!"

"Hold on, so what did the thing in parentheses actually mean?" Joss squinted at Tony.

"The taste is indeed good, but high-fat stuff like this is bad for your health," Steve criticized with a stern face, clearly wanting to prevent the Avengers from turning into a bunch of couch potatoes.

Natasha's eyes suddenly turned razor-sharp as she locked her gaze directly onto Steve. "Then take your hand off the tray right now!"

"Hey, hey, Bruce?! You're about to transform! Calm down! Calm down!!"

Despite being a group of super-heroic poster boys and girls for New York City, they were currently bickering fiercely over a plate of fried chicken. Only Thor remained silent from beginning to end.

Because this fellow was frantically shoving two drumsticks in his left hand and three wings in his right into his mouth, occasionally chugging a mouthful of cola to wash it down. He simply didn't have the time to exchange pleasantries with the others.

Standing a distance away, Joss watched their reactions and nodded silently. Although he hadn't mastered the secret technique of clothes-tearing food, it seemed the dishes he (borrowing from Dragon) made were a delicacy that even superheroes couldn't resist.

"The trial run went well. So next up is opening a shop, I suppose..." Joss's peripheral vision drifted toward Tony, who was currently gnawing happily on a chicken's tail-bone, as a particular phrase the man had once uttered echoed in his mind.

"Just take however much money you need yourself. No need to report back to me every single time."