Dao of Cooking

“Breathe in and out,” Zhu Luli said, her hands clasped behind her back. A dozen children circled around her, sitting cross-legged against the five wooden dummies. Their eyes were closed, chests rising softly with each breath. It was important to keep the rhythm, to relax, and ease your mind into focus.

It reminded her of her first lesson on cultivation. She was five years old back then, a mere child pouting because her father had taken her toys away. Theirs was a grand backyard, bamboo trees towering high around a man-made pool. You could always find the fish in the same place, almost caught in a lazy cadence, swirling around one another. Poke them with a stick, throw them a rock, they wouldn’t notice.

Here, all Zhu Luli had was a backyard of ruins. Broken stones lay scattered across the ground, half-toppled buildings blending into a grayish mess. She had slept out in the woods for the last few months, and even that was better than staying in this haunted place.

Yet, they needed a clear space away from curious eyes. So they were using Brother Lei’s old place as a training ground.

Father would’ve laughed. A mere Body Tempering Stage cultivator acting like a seasoned instructor.

But she made a promise, and she had all good reasons for keeping it. Spiritual food. Such a silly thing when you thought about it. Dozens of men claimed their food was this miraculous drug that could help cultivators ascend into higher stages. Spirit Chefs were lauded when their food gave the cultivators a sense of power. The Alchemists sneered at them. To them, these people were nothing more than pitiful folk, fools too talentless for the grand path of alchemy. They had taken a different route and were now trying to paint it as an alternative to elixirs and pills. Meaningless. So what do you do when you come across a real Spirit Chef?

You do what you can. That’s the answer.

Zhu Luli had thought of reaching out to her father. That would be the wisest thing to do. The Zhu Clan was one of the Seven Illustrious Clans of the Empire, a hegemon that ruled two cities. They had the means to protect Brother Lei and supply him with thousands of spiritual ingredients.

In return, they would see to it that they got their return on investment. Brother Lei would be cooking his dishes without a break. He would be ordered around, treated as this golden, sparkling gem. He wouldn’t be seen as a man. He would be a resource to be protected and used for the clan’s greater good.

So Zhu Luli kept the news to herself. It was selfish, but she could tell that neither Brother Lei nor Brother Lou knew what the cultivator clans were capable of. Once you’ve stepped into that dark well, there wouldn’t be any going back. You would be stuck there forever.

“Breathe in and out,” Zhu Luli said, pacing around the circle of children, Brother Lou and Brother Lei watching her with curious eyes from the back. Emperor Xia wrote, It always seems impossible until it’s done. She was counting on those words being true. If they were, she could make something out of these children. They lacked the resources and the backing, but they had something no other clans had.

She glanced at Brother Lei. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered. His face had gentle creases around the forehead, eyes half-closed in thought. He seemed to be thinking more these last few days. There was something about him that felt strange to Zhu Luli. He was different. An oddity among the mortals she had ever met.

Her father had always told her that mortals were no different than cultivators. Hunting for resources, fighting for all the scraps and possibilities—they just did it without all the grandeur. “Give them a sword,” he’d say, “and they’d slay any man if it would somehow be of any use to them.” And whenever they came across a bigger fish, they always cowed.

Just like the cultivators.

There shouldn’t have been any slaves left in this world, and yet whenever Zhu Clan’s Young Miss decided to go out for a stroll, it had seemed to her that everyone would become one.

But Brother Lei was different. This place was different. There was an innate kindness about him. Not the kind she had seen in the faces of others. She had lived all her life facing that same expression: a little smile around the lips, a deferential stoop to the back, eyes always staring somewhere between her feet and her knees. Behind their eyes, Zhu Luli could always feel the envy. A dark thing. It made a habit of clouding every man’s heart. No wonder why her father kept saying it was one of the greater demons.

Strangely, Brother Lei’s eyes lacked that veil of shade. He seemed to be looking straight into her soul, seeing her as she was. Granted, there had been a hint of apprehension in his gaze when she handled one of those Sabertongues, but now, before him, she felt no different than how she’d feel in a forest.

And he cared. How could a man care for a bunch of orphans? She felt ashamed that she couldn’t understand it. She liked the kids. Some of them were talented. Snake and Stone could ascend higher given the opportunity. Little Mei seemed to have a natural talent for spiritual beasts. She was rough with Little Yao, but the squirrel seemed to be drawn to her, constantly sleeping over her shoulder.

A Beastmaster? Perhaps. We will see.

You never fought with a Beastmaster alone. They were feared for a good reason and were in great demand. From spiritual ferries to the sewages, their use in everyday life went without saying. But it was their hordes that made them dangerous. She had read once about a Nascent Soul Beastmaster who could control thousands of Drakeflies. They devoured flesh and bones in the blink of an eye and had thick chitin surrounding their little bodies that made them impervious to the elements.

Zhu Luli shook her head. If Little Mei had the calling of a Beastmaster in her heart, then she would have to be trained under an established master. Zhu Luli knew little about their arts.

Eastern Dawn Academy has a Nascent Soul Beastmaster, but it’s too early to think about that for now.

She then glanced down at Stone, who seemed as serene as a calm lake. He was so pure, so gentle, yet decisive. Zhu Luli had thought about it and decided weapons wouldn’t be a good fit for him. A sword couldn’t contain his strength, and he wasn’t flexible enough to use a spear. She could train him for it, but it would be just a waste of talent.

Steelskin, or the Mountainrock Arts.

They both had their advantages, but she was favoring Steelskin over the other for one good reason—it would align with Stone’s demeanor. Like a tail, he always seemed to follow Snake wherever he went, and would keep his silence when his Big Brother spoke. Steelskin could instill the confidence needed to take initiative, as unlike Mountainrock Arts, it was a Body Forging Manual.

It will be harder for you to cultivate Steelskin than a Qi Refining Manual, but you can do it.

Snake scowled when Zhu Luli’s gaze settled on him, as if he was aware she was looking at him. The boy had an innate gift of perception. He was probably too bold for his own good, but if he could get that under control and learn how to be more discreet in his actions, then he could become a dangerous threat to his foes in the future.

But his overprotective side could become a problem if left unattended. Zhu Luli found herself baffled by this problem for days now, as being overprotective of others wasn’t a trait common in academies and sects. There were always the bold, courageous ones trying to best their foes, but few did it to protect their companions.

Zhu Luli could see it in how Snake treated his brothers and sisters. He cared for them, just like Brother Lei, but he did it like the animal he had taken his name after. He would be silent, always watching, always keeping an eye on them to see if they’d falter. And when they did, even in a simple matter as slipping on solid ground, he would dash to their help and reprimand them for being too careless.

This obsession could become fatal in a heated fight. The second his eyes fell on his companions, he could miss the next blow aimed at his heart. The silver lining in that was that, if trained, Snake would become a good team leader.

He was born to lead. I can feel it just by looking at him. I can teach him the Node Fingers.

He could also make use of a pair of daggers, but they might interfere with his natural talent. You can only turn a weapon into an extension of your own limb after years of training. Using your own body parts as weapons, though, was ultimately superior in the long run. Zhu Luli was close to turning her fingers into Earth-tier spiritual tools. There were also thousands of Martial Arts to make up for a lack of weapons, but you could only use them after the Qi Condensation Stage.

She sighed out a long breath, keeping her rhythm with the others as a force of habit. The Tranquilizing Meditation Art she’d taught the kids was an Earth-tier Art that didn’t have any soul-brand preventing her from teaching it to others. For the other arts, though, she would have to send a Wordcrow to her aunt Zhu Meirong.

Let’s hope she won’t ask too many questions.

If she did, Zhu Luli didn’t know how to explain her circumstances. Stuck in a mortal city, with a Heavenly Spirit Chef and a dozen children who depended on him, wouldn’t get her the preferred results. She would have to come up with a different excuse.

These are not tightly kept secrets, though. I think it’ll be fine.

These Cultivation Manuals were mostly commonly available manuals. Disciples could get these in nearly all the sects and academies. The Thousand Node Fingers, though, was one of the Zhu Clan’s highly regarded secret manuals, and for that, Zhu Luli would need to get permission from the clan.

“I can see the dark clouds over your head,” came Brother Lou’s voice, making Zhu Luli glance at him. “You really look like an instructor. Are you sure you haven’t done it in the past?”

Zhu Luli shook her head. “I was just thinking about the manuals. There’s a lot of talent here, and I’m not sure I can do justice to all of them.”

“I feared this would be the case,” Brother Lei said, scowling deeply at the kids. “We might have to start considering sending these kids to academies.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Zhu Luli said. “While it is true our Empire has renowned academies, it is pointless to think about these things before the Qi Condensation Stage. First, we need to cover the basics."

“And you know all these basics?” Brother Lei asked doubtfully.

Zhu Luli sighed. “I can’t claim to be a master of these topics, especially one that can teach a dozen kids, but I can safely say that we don’t have to rush anything. With the manuals I’ll prepare, they won’t have to think about anything before the Qi Condensation Stage.”

“Then what?” Brother Lou asked.

“Then they can search for their own fortunes,” Zhu Luli said matter-of-factly. “In most cultivation clans, the children would often learn these basics before they were sent to sects and academies. You can’t nurture them in the safety of their homes.”

“But why?” Brother Lou asked, scowling. “Wouldn’t a safe environment be more lucrative?”

“Competition is what kindles the fire within one’s self,” Zhu Luli recited her Father’s words. “Without one’s peers, one cannot hope to learn and test one’s limits. It is the nature of rivalry, Brother Lou, that pushes the cultivators toward greatness. It is a race, and to win, you must be the one holding the skies at the end.”

And that race starts with one’s birth.

Zhu Luli kept those words to herself. There was another reason why these clans sent their kids off to sects and academies. Face. Reputation. These were as vital to the clans as the blood running under one’s skin. Fame brought more than just attention to a clan. It made them known, feared even, on the grand stage of cultivation.

To see the look of dread on their faces, to make them shake in your presence. Your blood is a flag to be carried and planted atop the highest mountain.

She was letting the old teachings get to her head. Here, it was different. They were a different bunch. She wasn’t training a group of chosen to become the next bearers of the flag.

The dummies glistened under the sunlight. They were nailed deep into the ground for balance. Zhu Luli placed a hand over one of them, feeling the hard wood under her fingers. Darkloom Trees. They had a natural toughness about them, which was odd because, past a certain age, they started crumbling as if they couldn’t withstand time itself. But most trees only grew stronger with the passing of time.

“Had to fetch a dozen men to carry these things here,” Brother Lou said. “They weren’t cheap.”

Zhu Luli nodded. She needed these dummies sturdy enough to take a punch from her. One reason for that was the eventual strain the wood would have to bear, and the other was for the possibility of the kids climbing faster than she thought. There was always the oddity among talented people.

“Shall we start?” she asked, glancing back at the pair of them. “You said you wanted to test your strength. You've seen the kids do it, now it's your turn. I’ll be the judge.”

“You want us to punch these things?” Brother Lei asked, walking forward and feeling the wood with his hand. “What if they break? We paid good money for these things.”

Zhu Luli smiled at him. “Even I couldn’t break one of these. Not with a single jab, at least.”

“But how can you tell our strength by a single jab?” Brother Lou asked, confused as he stared at Brother Lei. “We were still around fifteen minor circles the last time we tried to cultivate.”

“Strength and the ability to cultivate are two different things,” Zhu Luli said, raising one hand. “Nine minor circles are considered to be a full circle. Nine full circles mean that you’re at the boundary of the Body Tempering Stage, yet it is possible that a 7th Step Body Tempering Stage cultivator can best a 9th Step Body Tempering Stage cultivator. But how?

“Because while the circles give you strength, a cultivator is more than just the number of spiritual energy circles they can maintain. Experience. Encounters. Training. These are just as important as spiritual energy. Or a hermit who spends their time cultivating behind closed doors would’ve claimed these lands long ago, yet they still remain in the hands of adventurers.”

“So a Body Tempering Stage cultivator can beat the hell out of a Qi Condensation Stage cultivator if he has the experience, is that so?” Brother Lou asked.

“Possible, but not quite likely,” Zhu Luli said, shaking her head. “The difference between the stages is more substantial than the one between the steps. A Qi Condensation Stage expert can command and utilize the spiritual essence of the world. Against a Body Tempering Stage cultivator, it would be like quenching a campfire with mountainous waves.”

“That’s where talent shines,” Brother Lei said, sighing as he rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll have to come up with a dish that can grow those spiritual roots, or else we’ll be stuck at the Body Tempering Stage forever.”

Zhu Luli wasn’t so sure of that. “There are pills that allow you to sense the Qi around you, doing what spiritual roots do for a cultivator. Perhaps you can make a dish that does the same.”

“We’ll see about that,” Brother Lei said, and then nodded toward her. “I’ll start.”

He stepped back, raising his right hand. His fingers crackled when he clenched his fist. Sunlight fell on the side of his face, illuminating a pair of hawkish eyes fixed on the wooden dummy. The contemplation was gone, replaced by a sudden determination that chilled Zhu Luli for no apparent reason. She seemed to see a faint glimmer of light between his fingers as he stepped past her, lunging forward.

His right jab crashed into the wood, his robe flapping in the wind. It splintered, parts of it flying across the ground, like little awns drilling small holes in the soil. The greater part of the dummy stood strong, but it was cracked where Brother Lei’s punch had landed—a web of cracks lining the polished wood.

Zhu Luli blinked.

…….