Chapter 8: The Unexpected Arrival of the 'Demon King of Food'
Spring break passed in the blink of an eye.
Three days slipped by, and Xia Yu had yet to sleep in even once. If
anything, his days had become more regimented. He woke up at eight, cleaned the
restaurant, occasionally whipped up breakfast, and spent the rest of the day
buried in recipes and culinary experiments.
The focus of his efforts?
Magic Mapo Tofu.
Truth be told, he managed to cook a decent version of the dish on day one.
But when the system slapped it with a meager 30-point rating,
Xia Yu's pride wouldn't let it go.
Since then, he'd thrown himself into a feverish routine, burning through
every last block of tofu he had. Morning to night, he cooked, refined,
adjusted. By noon today, he'd managed to reach a 60-point rating—an
improvement, sure, but still not the glowing cuisine he was chasing.
He'd even let the old man try it. The rare flicker of surprise on the old
man's face had made Xia Yu quietly smug.
But where was the glow? That mythical, radiant brilliance?
"There's still half the ingredients left..."
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Xia Yu leaned against the kitchen wall. His
mind felt like a tangled mess of recipes and techniques. Taking off his apron
and hat, he stepped out to breathe the evening air and look up at Tokyo's dusky
sky.
"The tofu's perfect. Excellent quality."
He frowned.
"Could it be the soy-based minced meat that's holding me back...?"
His thoughts wandered to the plot of Cooking Master Boy.
Soybeans were often dubbed "meat of the field," but that didn't mean they
could replace real meat so easily.
In the original anime, the "soybean minced meat" wasn't just ground beans.
It had to be soaked, boiled, crushed, seasoned, and then stir-fried in oil to
fully condense the umami of the sauce. The process sounded simple—but in
practice, each step was layered with complexity. Timing, temperature,
seasoning... none of it was easy.
At least for now, Xia Yu hadn't managed to replicate the signature crispness
of the original dish.
"Traditional Mapo Tofu balances five elements—spicy, fragrant, vibrant, hot,
and numbing. But Magic Mapo Tofu? It's six elements. That extra one is
the soy-based meat."
He played the steps over and over in his mind.
Having a recipe was one thing. Making something truly delicious was
another.
Due to his lack of proficiency—and perhaps a few technical oversights—his
dishes couldn't break past that 60-point ceiling. And without hitting at least
90 points, there was no chance of achieving a glowing dish.
It was frustrating.
"Host, there are four days left until the deadline for the task: [Cook
Your First Glowing Dish]..." the system reminded him coldly.
"I know!" Xia Yu snapped, irritated.
Two days ago, the system had dropped this second quest on him—seven days to
produce a glowing dish.
The reward?
A blue-grade frying pan with a passive effect: +10%
chance of glowing dish creation.
The moment he saw that, Xia Yu couldn't calm down. A ten percent bonus might
just be the edge he needed. But each failed attempt only deepened his
obsession—and his annoyance.
"Still got half the materials left... might as well try again."
He lingered outside the shop a while longer, listening to the hum of
activity from the nearby shopping street. The evening air cleared his mind.
Just as he turned to head back in, a sleek black sedan rolled slowly down the
narrow lane and stopped right at the front door.
Xia Yu's eyes narrowed.
The door opened, and out stepped a blonde girl in a prim school uniform. She
glanced at him from across the street, her eyes brimming with disdain and
aloofness—like a haughty peacock sizing up a pigeon.
"Grandfather," she said curtly.
Then she opened the rear door and helped an elderly man out of the car.
Xia Yu's breath caught.
The man wore traditional samurai garb and wooden clogs, white hair and beard
cascading like a lion's mane. A long scar slashed across one eye. His mere
presence exuded the kind of pressure that made the air feel heavier.
Xia Yu stiffened.
This wasn't just an eccentric old man. This aura... it was oppressive.
There was only one person in this dimension who matched that profile.
Nakiri Senzaemon.
Director of Totsuki Culinary Academy. The man nicknamed the
"Demon King of Food."
And the proud, sharp-eyed blonde beside him?
Naturally, she was Nakiri Erina, the prodigy known for her
"God Tongue" and one of Totsuki's elite Ten.
Xia Yu took a deep breath and calmed himself.
It wasn't just the pressure—it was the sheer absurdity. What the hell kind
of timeline was this? Was his grandfather besties with the Demon King of
Totsuki?
"Is Mr. Xia Qing in?" Senzaemon's voice was deep and commanding as
he approached, his clogs tapping steadily on the pavement.
Xia Yu blinked.
Xia Qing. His grandfather's full name. A name few customers
even knew. Most, like Kamihara Masato, simply called him "Old Man Xia."
The confusion deepened.
What was his grandfather's past?
"He's resting in the backyard," Xia Yu answered smoothly. "This way."
He remained composed, steady. Despite being only a teenager, there was a
mature calm to his voice that caught Senzaemon's attention.
The old man nodded approvingly and turned to Erina. "Let's go. Remember your
manners—we're visiting a master of Chinese cuisine. His culinary skills are
respected across the world."
"Master of Chinese cuisine...?"
Erina glanced around skeptically at the humble storefront. The crooked
signboard, the weathered walls—this didn't scream 'culinary legend' to her.
But the moment they stepped inside, her expression changed.
The interior was clean. Not luxurious, but refined. Antique
furnishings, spotless tables, and an orderly atmosphere.
Erina nodded to herself.
So this place has its own world.
She reined in her earlier disdain and followed silently.
They entered the backyard.
An elderly man sat cross-legged at a low table, steam rising from a teapot
beside him. The tea's fragrance drifted in the breeze. Erina, always sensitive
to aroma, felt a ripple of surprise.
Such fine tea...!
"Old friend, please have a seat," the old man said in fluent Japanese.
Nakiri Senzaemon smiled faintly, then sat across from him.
Xia Yu poured tea for them both, then stepped back quietly, ears perked.
"I heard from Kamihara Masato that you're leaving soon?" Senzaemon asked,
sipping his tea.
"A wanderer returns home," the old man replied, calm and serene. "I've been
away for over a decade. There are things I must settle."
"And this shop...?"
Senzaemon glanced over at Xia Yu. "Is that your grandson?"
"A useless boy," the old man said with closed eyes, like a monk in
meditation. "But this little restaurant is nothing complex. He can handle it.
You need not worry."
After a pause, Senzaemon reached into his robe and placed a formal document
on the table.
"This is an official admission letter to Totsuki Academy.
If you're willing, your grandson can attend during your absence. I will make
sure he is looked after."
Erina's eyes widened.
"Grandfather!"
She whispered urgently, her voice barely restrained. Her beautiful face was
filled with confusion and disbelief.
Totsuki Academy's entrance exams are strict.Not just any
random street cook can get in!
Of course, she dared not say the second half out loud.