The Li Clan rarely held a banquet that didn't involve half the cooks crying by the end of it.
When the kitchen fires roared to life that evening, the entire Cloudspire City could smell the celebration. From glazed spirit-beast pork to steaming lotus rice, the fragrance rolled like mist over the courtyards. The elders sat according to rank, the juniors according to their courage, and somewhere in the middle of it all was Li Ming — the newest source of gossip and joy in the clan.
It was a joyous, dignified occasion.
Well, almost.
"Hoho! Pass the ribs, pass the ribs! What are you all waiting for!"
That voice, loud enough to scare even the chickens in the backyard, belonged to Li Heng, Li Ming's second uncle — a man who had never managed to ascend a single cultivation realm past Foundation Establishment, but had mastered the Dao of Appetite to perfection.
The clan's cooks both adored and feared him.
As the elders raised their cups, laughter spread like warm wine, and praises of the upcoming marriage fluttered across the tables.
"Ah, Ming'er, such fortune!" one elder declared. "To be chosen by a sect bride, that's Heaven's blessing!"
Li Ming bowed humbly. "It's Heaven's arrangement, Elder."
Another old man nodded, his beard swaying. "A wise answer, modest but confident — just like your father used to be."
Li Ming smiled faintly, but his attention had already drifted toward the massive man gnawing on a spirit-beast leg beside him.
His second uncle's plate looked like a battlefield — piles of bones on one side, sauce on the other, and not a single grain of rice survived the carnage.
"Uncle Heng," Li Ming finally said, "perhaps you should pace yourself. The cooks will faint if you eat everything."
Li Heng slapped his belly proudly. "Bah! A true cultivator eats as he lives — with passion and dominance! Besides, a wedding banquet needs to start with a full stomach. You can't make vows on an empty belly!"
Li Ming chuckled. "That's one interpretation, I suppose."
Once the first round of wine circulated, the clan's laughter mellowed into content chatter. The elders debated Dao comprehension and trade matters, the women whispered about dowries and wedding robes, and Li Heng — whose face was already flushed like roasted meat, leaned close to his nephew with a conspiratorial grin.
"Ming'er," he began, lowering his voice as if sharing a profound secret of cultivation. "You're about to step into the greatest tribulation of your life."
Li Ming blinked. "Marriage?"
"Exactly!" Li Heng nodded sagely, gesturing with a bone like a master teaching scripture. "Listen carefully. Cultivation is one thing — marriage is another battlefield entirely."
Li Ming tried to keep a straight face. "I see. And how much experience do you have on this battlefield, Uncle?"
Li Heng froze mid-chew, eyes darting side to side. "…None."
Li Ming raised an eyebrow. "None?"
Li Heng coughed. "But I've observed! Many times! From afar! I'm a scholar of other men's mistakes!"
Li Ming couldn't help it; a quiet laugh escaped him. "Then I'll treat this as theoretical wisdom."
"Exactly!" Li Heng said proudly, missing the sarcasm. "First rule — your wife belongs to the kitchen!"
The table went silent for two heartbeats.
Several elders coughed. Someone dropped a chopstick. Even the spirit lantern above flickered, as though Heaven itself was unsure whether to strike him or laugh.
Li Ming pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle, are you trying to get me killed before the marriage?"
Li Heng waved dismissively. "Bah! The modern women are all the same. They say cultivation, independence, Dao of whatever — but in the end, a man must lead the household! You can't let her think you're a pushover."
Li Ming sighed. "I doubt someone from the Frost Phoenix Palace will be moved by such… wisdom."
"Then freeze her with your dominance!" Li Heng declared, pounding the table. "Show her the strength of the Li men!"
"By that logic," Li Ming replied smoothly, "shouldn't I first master the Dao of Washing Dishes, in case she throws a plate at me?"
The younger disciples nearby nearly choked on their wine from holding in laughter. One elder coughed violently to hide his grin.
Li Heng glared. "You mock your uncle? I'm giving you ancestral advice!"
Li Ming's lips curved. "If that's ancestral, our ancestors must have died single."
....
The banquet rolled on as stars appeared above the courtyard. Jugs of plum wine were emptied faster than spirit stones at an auction. The older generation boasted of their youthful adventures; the younger ones toasted the groom until he lost count.
Yet amid the warmth and noise, Li Ming found a strange peace.
For the first time, the world didn't seem like a wall he couldn't climb.
He looked around — the golden lanterns, the familiar smiles, the faint hum of laughter, and thought: Perhaps the Dao of Marriage isn't just about power… but belonging.
Of course, that sentimental moment lasted exactly three seconds before his uncle ruined it.
"So," Li Heng said, smirking, "does your new bride cook spirit beast stew?"
Li Ming gave him a look. "She's a cultivator from a high sect, Uncle, not a kitchen maiden."
"Tragic," Li Heng muttered. "A woman who can't cook is like a sword without an edge."
"Then why not marry a chef yourself?" Li Ming countered. "I'm sure the kitchen would gladly part with one for your sake."
Li Heng paused. "Hmm… perhaps I should. The Dao of Full Stomach must not be walked alone."
Li Ming raised his cup. "To your future culinary enlightenment."
They clinked cups, the younger snickering, the elders shaking their heads fondly.
As the banquet drew to a close, Li Heng leaned back, content and drowsy, his belly stretched like a spirit drum. "Ming'er, just remember — women are mysterious creatures. They look delicate, but they have terrifying hidden techniques."
Li Ming smiled. "You mean cultivation techniques?"
"No, household techniques!" Li Heng wagged a finger. "Cold glares, silent treatments, pillow exiles — all fatal moves. Guard your Dao heart well!"
Li Ming laughed softly. "Understood, Uncle. I'll keep my guard up."
Li Heng nodded in satisfaction, eyes already drooping. "Good lad… snore…"
And just like that, the clan's most talkative man fell asleep mid-advice, a faint smile on his lips, still clutching a half-eaten rib.
Li Ming stood, brushing off his robes, the laughter of the night still lingering in the air.
He glanced toward the moon above the rooftops — serene, silver, watching.
"Tomorrow, I begin a new path," he murmured. "The Dao of Marriage… starts with a feast, apparently."
He bowed slightly toward the moon, then toward his snoring uncle. "And may the heavens spare me from following your example."
******
[A/N:] Thanks for reading this far, as things go, I have been enjoying writing this. And yes this will be another plea for support, as your power stones and comments give me the motivation I need to continue. And if you like what you see, why not add to library?