Chapter 27: This Time, Victory Is Mine

  Transtor: Krukist

  And so, the test roared to life.

  Situ Deng unched into a with grand fir, fnked by no fewer than six assistants—each a master of his habits, anticipating his every move. A mere stretch of his hand, and they’d pce the exact toredient into his palm. What set Lin Yu’s blood abze, though, was their beauty. By the standards of his past life’s “Tiger Prowl Street” rankings, each was a seven out of ten her. His heart raced as he mused, “So this is the perk of being a Spirit Chef?”

  To onlookers, Lin Yu appeared to be studying Situ Deng’s ingredients and teiques, not ogling the assistants. Nan Zhan nodded approvingly. “This Lin Yu brat’s arrogance runs deep, but his posure’s . With only an hour to work, he doesn’t rush in blind. He’s Situ Deng’s raw materials first—knowing your foe is the path to crushing them.”

  Situ g, ever the trarian, bristled. “Hmph! No matter how steady he pys it, he ’t escape defeat. Cooking with pork… Marquis, tell me—could you even stomach it?”

  Nan Zhan relished Situ g’s frustration, replying with breezy calm, “Oh, I could manage. Ba the battlefield, I devoured far worse than pork—wild beast flesh, bones and all. Nothing fazed me.”

  “You…” Situ g fumed, speechless.

  Born of humble roots and fed in the crucible of a decades-past war between kingdoms, Nan Zhan had tasted suffering few could fathom. Among the four judges, he alone bore no aversion to pork.

  Still, Situ g g to his fidence. “Pork’s stench lingers no matter how it’s cooked. Even if this kid’s got some tricks, that reek won’t fade. You might choke it down, but I’d wager you won’t score it high.”

  Nan Zhan’s gaze hardened. “My name’s been built on fairness my whole life. If it’s truly foul, I won’t twist the truth.”

  Lin Yu had little to prep. Braised Pork needed few embellishments beyond seasonings. He begaing the pinger was absent in this world, but a local deodorizing spice stood in its pce.

  With time to spare, he turned his eyes back to Situ Deng. Though the man sed him, Lin Yu couldn’t deny his skill. A First-Grade Spirit Chef title wasn’t won with hot air alone. Situ Deng’s sleeves billowed as he worked, his knife fshing with precision, leaving Lin Yu quietly awed. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “This Spirit Chef trade… it’s no simple craft.”

  Unlike Mystic Martialist wielding spiritual essence for spells or Body F Realm cultivators tempering their flesh, Situ Deng eled that esseo his ingredients—a feat both subtle and profound.

  For the first time, Lin Yu felt a spark of curiosity toward the Spirit Chef path. Beside him, Lin Ling’er’s brow creased with worry. Seeing him so x, as if time were a trifle, she tugged at him. “Brother, stop staring—his dish will be done soon!”

  Lin Yu smiled, unruffled. “o fret.” He stretched out a hand, as if clutg victory itself. “Everything’s under my trol.”

  His cooking was a whirlwind of ease—seasonings tweaked on the left, pork cubed on the right. He even called for a Red Jade Chi. Lin Ling’er blinked. “Brother, what, Fried Chi Legs again?”

  She’d savored them yesterday, and the memory made her swallow hard. But Lin Yu shook his head. “Fried Chi Legs are getting old. Today, it’s Fried Chi Cutlets.”

  “Old?” Lin Ling’er nearly protested—how could such a delicacy tire?—but “Fried Chi Cutlets” souempting, so she nodded quietly. “Need any seasonings?”

  Her voice faltered as a thought struck. “Brother, you’re so calm—do you really think you win this hands-down? These cutlets aren’t your duel dish, are they?”

  Lin Yu chuckled softly. “Of course not. Fried chi’s tasty, sure, but it’s just a fvor bomb. He’s crafting a Spirit Feast. Yesterday’s wihe Marquis and his wife leaned hard on y. Serve it again today, and without that fresh edge, I’d lose.” His tone shifted, a sly grin emerging. “But I didhose legs yesterday—so I’m treating myself now.”

  With that, he sliced the chi breast, marinating it in a medley of spices. Yesterday’s dish had been rushed, det but unremarkable in his eyes. This time, he’d perfect it—frying the cutlets at the st moment for peak fvor.

  Across the way, Situ Deng stole a gnce amid his flurry. Seeing Lin Yu dismantle another chi, he paused, baffled. “He’s at it again with the chi? What about his pork?”

  A smirk tugged at his lips as he sneered inwardly. He’s panig, rattled by my Spirit Feast prep. I was right—fried chi was his trump card, enough to sway the Marquis and his wife. I didn’t taste it, but I sensed no spiritual esse’s mere mortal fare, not a Spirit Feast. How on food rival my craft?

  This time, victory’s mine.

  With that thought, Situ Deng lifted his Vegetarian Chi from the pot. Nan Ziyan haden in years—her first meal couldn’t be greasy. He’d secured a recipe from the Spirit Chef Guild: a Vegetarian Chi, sublime yet light, perfect for her delicate pate. His eyes softened. “Ziyan, this time, you’ll surely savor my dish.”

  query: [email protected]