The roar from the tournament grounds was a distant, constant thunder, a soundtrack to Lin Fei's escalating panic. Each cheer, each clash of spiritual energy, felt like a second ticking off a clock counting down to his potential execution. He paced the confines of the Reflecting Moon Pavilion, his mind racing faster than his feet. A Sun-Blessed Peach. He'd asked the system about it the moment Su Mingyu left, and the response had been less than reassuring.
[Sun-Blessed Peach: Grade: Earth (Peak). Pseudo-immortal fruit. Contains the condensed Yang essence of a thousand noons. Raw consumption results in meridian scorching, dantian rupture, and spontaneous combustion for cultivators below Nascent Soul stage. Handle with extreme spiritual caution.]
"Spontaneous combustion? Fantastic. Just a light lunch," he muttered, running a hand through his hair until it stood on end. The supporting ingredients had arrived via a silent, hooded servant—succulents that glowed with captured moonlight, a vial of water that swirled with its own miniature galaxy, a knot of root that pulsed with a slow, deep heartbeat. Each one was a treasure that screamed 'Sect Master's Private Stash', and each one felt like another weight on the scales of expectation balanced precariously on his neck. The pressure was a physical weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The system, however, was buzzing with an excitement that felt utterly inappropriate.
[Recipe Calculated: 'Solar Essence Soufflé with Lunar Dew Stabilization'] [Required Proficiency: Apprentice Chef (Tier 1). Current Proficiency: Novice Chef (Tier 9).] [Proficiency Inadequate. Forced breakthrough via high-stakes culinary endeavor possible but risky.]
"Risky? You think?" Lin Fei snapped at the empty air, his voice cracking with strain. He was one sliver of proficiency away from the required level, and he had to make a dish that could literally blow up in his face—and take a disciple with it—if he got it wrong. He needed to practice. Now.
He grabbed the most spiritually dense ingredient he had left from his mundane orders—a hunk of Iron-Hide Bull meat, tough as leather and twice as stubborn. He wasn't just cooking; he was conducting. He pushed his qi into the meat, not just to heat it, but to guide its energy, to soften its tough earthly essence as he seared it over the hearth's flames. He focused on the system's prompts, on the feel of the energy flowing from his core, through his hands, and into the food. It was clumsy, like trying to perform brain surgery with oven mitts on. The meat sizzled, accepting his energy reluctantly.
[Dish: 'Qi-Infused Iron-Hide Steak' – Grade: Mortal (High)] [Proficiency +0.5. You are on the verge of a breakthrough!]
He cursed, the sound swallowed by the waterfall's roar. So close. He grabbed a handful of Spirit Herbs, their leaves shimmering with faint energy. He chopped them with furious precision, infusing each cut with a wisp of his own qi, trying to harmonize their conflicting wood and water properties into a cohesive sauce. The air sizzled with released power, the herbs wilting and merging under his focused intent.
[Dish: 'Balancing Spirit Herb Demi-Glace' – Grade: Mortal (Peak)] [Proficiency +0.4. Current Proficiency: Novice Chef (Tier 9.9). Apex reached.]
"Come on!" he yelled, desperation clawing at him. He was right there. He could feel the barrier, a thin, taut membrane of understanding just beyond his grasp. He looked around wildly for anything else to cook. His eyes landed on a simple, plain bowl of unassuming spirit rice. It was the most basic ingredient in the world, the foundation of a thousand meals. Humble. Simple.
He took a deep breath, forcing his panic down. This wasn't about power. It was about precision. It was about respect for the ingredient. He rinsed the rice, feeling each grain, sensing its humble, starchy life force. He placed it in a pot with clear water, and instead of just boiling it, he poured his qi into it gently, encouraging it, asking it to release its simple, perfect essence. He wasn't a cultivator forcing his will on the food. He was a chef, collaborating with it.
The rice began to glow with a soft, warm light. A pristine, clean aroma filled the pavilion, the very smell of nourishment and purity. It was the best damn rice he had ever made in either of his lives. Perfect. Flawless.
[Dish: 'Pearlescent Qi-Infused Rice' – Grade: Earth (Low)] [Congratulations, Host! Culinary Proficiency Breakthrough!] [Novice Chef → Apprentice Chef (Tier 1)] [New System Function Unlocked: 'Spiritual Palate' – Allows host to intuitively taste and diagnose spiritual imbalances in ingredients and cultivators.]
A wave of profound understanding washed over him, a tsunami of sensory input. He could suddenly feel the energy in the room, the flow of the waterfall outside, the latent power in the special ingredients on the table. It was like he'd been half-blind and could now see the true colors of the world. He could taste the ozone of Su Mingyu's recent visit, the metallic tang of his own fear, the vibrant life of the plants outside. He laughed, a short, breathless sound of relief and triumph. He was ready.
The door to his pavilion slammed open.
The sudden noise was a physical shock in his state of heightened sensitivity. The tournament's roar flooded in, followed by two people. The first was a young man, maybe eighteen, being half-supported by a disciple in healer's robes. The young man's face was a mask of blood and bruising, one arm hung limp at a sickening angle, but his eyes blazed with a fierce, unyielding pride. In his good hand, he clutched a simple wooden box from which radiated a wave of pure, aggressive sunlight that lashed against Lin Fei's new senses. The Peach.
The second was Elder Xi.
She swept in, her expression one of clinical concern that didn't mask the sharp, voracious curiosity in her eyes. "Physician Lin," she said, her voice smooth as oiled silk. "This is Disciple Kang, the tournament champion. He has sustained significant injuries in his final match. As the Sect Master's personal physician, and given that his prize requires… specialized handling… we thought it best to bring him directly to you. To kill two birds with one stone, as it were."
It was a masterstroke. A brutal, brilliant play. She hadn't just brought the winner; she'd brought a critically injured winner, putting Lin Fei on the spot in front of an audience. She could observe everything. There would be no hiding.
Disciple Kang grimaced, spitting a glob of blood onto the pristine floor. "I don't need a cook," he grunted, his voice strained with pain and defiance. "I need a healer. Just give me the peach. I can handle it." He made a move to open the box, his fingers fumbling with the latch.
"I wouldn't—" Lin Fei and Elder Xi said in unison, their voices clashing.
Lin Fei stepped forward, his new 'Spiritual Palate' instantly reading the disciple. Meridians bruised and leaking qi like sieves, a hairline fracture in his dantian, spiritual exhaustion so deep it was a miracle he was conscious. The raw Peach would be like pouring lava into a cracked glass. He also read Elder Xi—a cool, calculating anticipation beneath her serene facade, a hunger so intense it was a flavor all its own. She was waiting for him to fail. She was craving it.
Su Mingyu's plan had just been thrown into a wok of blazing hot oil. He couldn't just cook the peach; he had to heal the disciple with it, and he had to do it under the gaze of his most dangerous skeptic.
He met Disciple Kang's stubborn gaze. "You won," Lin Fei stated, not as a question but as a fact. He put every ounce of his newfound Apprentice Chef authority into his voice. "You beat everyone they threw at you. But that," he pointed at the box, the sunlight within it seeming to pulse in time with Kang's heartbeat, "will beat you. It's too much for you right now. You're running on fumes and pride."
"I earned it!" Kang snarled, his grip tightening on the box, his knuckles white.
"And I'm going to make sure you live to enjoy it," Lin Fei shot back, his voice dropping into the tone he used with rowdy line cooks back in his food truck—a tone that brooked no argument. "Now sit down before you fall down and stop bleeding on my floor. I've just mopped."
The sheer absurdity of the command—the domesticity of it in the face of his profound injury and the priceless treasure—made Disciple Kang blink. His defiance faltered, replaced by sheer bewildered shock. He allowed the healer to guide him to a low stool, his body slumping with exhaustion.
Elder Xi's eyebrows rose slightly. "A unique bedside manner."
Lin Fei ignored her. He took the box from Kang's reluctant hand. The moment he touched it, a surge of violent yang energy, hot and abrasive, tried to shoot up his arm. His new Apprentice Chef cultivation and Spiritual Palate automatically flared, not blocking it, but gently guiding the energy in a loop, dispersing it harmlessly back into the air. It felt like catching a falling knife by the handle. Perfectly balanced. Instinctual.
Elder Xi's sharp intake of breath was audible. That should have been impossible for someone with his apparent low-level cultivation. Her eyes narrowed, the mask of clinical concern slipping to reveal pure, unadulterated intensity.
The clock was ticking. He had a critically injured patient and a bomb to defuse. He opened the box. The light that poured out was blinding, the heat intense. The Peach itself was perfect, glowing like a miniature sun, its skin shimmering with trapped power, its scent an overwhelming wave of sweetness and immense, destructive potential.
[Warning: Spiritual volatility critical. Commence recipe immediately.]
Lin Fei's world narrowed. The pavilion, Elder Xi, the groaning disciple—it all faded into a blur. There was only the ingredients and the energy. His hands moved with a speed and certainty he didn't know he possessed. He didn't chop; his knife fell in rhythm with the Peach's pulsing energy, segmenting it without spilling a single drop of its precious, volatile essence. He didn't cook; he wove. The lunar dew succulents were blended into a cool, silvery paste that hummed with calming yin energy. The stellar water was used to create a gelid, stabilizing broth. The heartbeat root was grated, its pulsing powder acting as a metaphysical anchor.
He worked the Peach's segments into the ethereal mixture, his qi dancing between his fingers, a conductor taming an orchestra of suns and moons. He wasn't suppressing the Peach's power. He was orchestrating it, letting the supporting ingredients create a harmonious structure for its explosive energy to flow through. The air in the pavilion began to shimmer, filled with the opposing yet complementary auras of a noonday sky and a starry night. The temperature fluctuated wildly between desert heat and arctic chill.
He poured the mixture into a deep dish and placed it in the hearth. But he didn't use fire. He pushed his own qi into the formation circles around the hearth, activating a low, resonant heat that would coddle the mixture, allowing the energies to marry slowly, gently.
Minutes passed. The only sound was Disciple Kang's ragged breathing and the hum of energy. Elder Xi did not speak. She did not move. She just watched, her earlier smugness replaced by a deep, unnerving intensity, her entire being focused on his every movement.
Finally, Lin Fei withdrew the dish. It was a perfect, golden soufflé, risen high and proud, shimmering with a captured galaxy of tiny silver stars, steaming gently with an aroma that was both the warmth of a summer hug and the cool clarity of a mountain breeze. It was beautiful. It was impossible.
[Dish: 'Solar Essence Soufflé with Lunar Dew Stabilization' – Grade: Earth (Peak)] [Culinary Proficiency +5! A masterful execution under pressure.]
"Eat it. Slowly," Lin Fei said, his voice hoarse with effort. He handed the still-warm dish to Disciple Kang. "Focus the energy on your dantian and your damaged meridians. Guide it. Don't let it guide you."
Kang looked from the breathtaking dish to Lin Fei's serious, exhausted face, to the silent, watching Elder Xi. Hesitantly, he took a bite.
His eyes flew wide open. Not in pain, but in shock. Then awe. A soft, golden light enveloped him, gentle yet inexorable. The bruises on his face faded like morning mist under the sun. His slumped shoulder straightened with a faint, healthy click. The ragged, leaking energy around him smoothed, solidified, and then began to compress at his core, spinning faster and faster into a vortex of pure power. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with spiritual pressure. The healer disciple gasped and took several steps back, bowing under the weight.
Elder Xi took a half-step forward, her hand unconsciously reaching out. "That's… that's not healing…" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of horror and revelation. "That's…"
Disciple Kang threw his head back and roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph as a wave of power erupted from him, pristine and potent, coalescing in the air before him into a shimmering, miniature sun of solid, brilliant golden light. It hovered over his dantian, pulsing with a steady, mighty rhythm.
He had broken through. Right there, on a stool in a kitchen. He was a Gold Core cultivator.
The healer fell to his knees in a profound bow. Kang stared at his hands, tears of joy and disbelief cutting tracks through the dried blood on his cheeks. He looked at Lin Fei, his expression one of utter, life-altering gratitude and reverence.
Lin Fei allowed himself a single, shaky breath of relief. He'd done it. He'd climbed the mountain and not been blown off.
His eyes, drawn by the intensity of her silence, met Elder Xi's. There was no curiosity left in her gaze. No clinical distance. No professional envy. There was only a cold, hard, and terrifying greed. She wasn't looking at a physician, or a chef, or even a man.
She was looking at the key to a power that could shatter the foundations of alchemy and reshape their world. She was looking at a god-maker.
And she knew it.