Dao of Cooking

The warm soup sloshed through his throat, easing into his stomach. There, the windy spiritual energy poked him playfully. It teased a minor circle, and just like with the wings, it vanished before the circle could start.

This drove Sun Hu to take another spoonful, only to realize he had devoured the bowl in seconds. Disappointed, he leaned back and glanced at the others. It was an odd sight to see the heavyweights of Jiangzhen clicking their tongues in awe. Nobody seemed to have the time or energy to waste on the silent confrontations between their ranks as they slurped the noodles.

What are they cooking up in the kitchen? What’s this... madness?

Sun Hu found himself clicking his tongue at the thought, which probably made him look like the others. Well, that wasn’t a bad thing, considering he was trying to join their inner circle.

“This could be the best thing I’ve eaten in years,” he said, placing the spoon gently on the table. “I say it’ll be hard to find a place in this restaurant once it opens. They serve some great stuff here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Dai Aiguo. He waved at the plump man, looking up at him with a beaming smile. “Are you taking reservations? I’d like a table for the next few weeks.”

“Well, of course, my dear sir!” The plump man bowed, smiling eagerly. “We have special rooms on the second floor for esteemed customers like yourself. It will provide a unique experience, and you won’t have to deal with other customers. I can book one of those rooms if you like.”

“Do it,” Dai Aiguo said, reaching inside his robe. The Head Scribe took out a golden imperial coin, making all the heads at the table turn toward him. “Take this as a token of my word.”

“You’re too kind!” the plump man said, nodding. Sun Hu couldn’t even see how he took the coin before he slipped back into the kitchen.

Once the man was gone, Mao Hu leaned closer to Dai Aiguo with a little smile. “Brother Aiguo, what’s the rush? We have one more course before us, no?”

“Heh!” Dai Aiguo barked out a laugh. “I don’t think they have enough rooms to fit all of us. The early bird gets the prize, Brother Hu—don’t forget that.”

“As always, you’re wise, Senior Aiguo,” said a lanky man from Sun Hu’s side, one from the outcast group.

Dai Aiguo snorted in response, clearly unimpressed by the man’s brazen flattery. Simple flattery wouldn’t be enough for him—Sun Hu decided that much.

“Early bird, you’ve said?” Mao Hu shook his head, flashing two golden coins from his pocket. “Might as well get on with it. Waiter, take these two golden coins to your manager and tell him I want one of those rooms reserved in my name!”

A young server, with a practiced smile, lunged forward and took the coins with deft hands. Mao Hu watched her with a satisfied gaze before turning back to the table.

Sun Hu could feel the impatience radiating from the others in the opportunists’ group. Though they didn’t lack money, it wouldn’t be proper for them to secure one of the rooms before the Governor’s people. They had to wait.

“Watch your step, Brother Hu. A single golden coin would’ve been enough,” Dai Aiguo said, staring him down. “You’re not giving me face, trying to flaunt your wealth in front of me.”

“Why, it’s not a matter of face, Brother Aiguo. I just had some spare change in my pockets, that’s all.” Mao Hu smirked as Dai Aiguo’s face flushed with anger.

“Bah, spare change, he says!” Dai Aiguo growled, one hand clenched tightly around his robe.

“What’s wrong, Brother Aiguo?” Mao Hu chuckled innocently. “You’re not the type to lack money.”

“You know what’s wrong, you bastard!” Dai Aiguo banged a fist on the table, springing to his feet. He jabbed a thick finger at Mao Hu. “Don’t try me, Brother Hu. Not here, not now.”

“My elder brothers,” Jin Longwei rose slowly from the table, regarding the two men with a stern gaze. “Can’t we just focus on this delicious feast instead of bickering like madmen? We’re in the first spiritual restaurant in Jiangzhen! We should be proud to host such a talented chef in our city.”

The two middle-aged men glanced at Jin Longwei, while the rest of the table remained silent. After a long pause, they eased back into their seats.

What the hell? Sun Hu had to close his jaw with a hand to maintain his composure. What was that?

It was just a simple sentence, but it seemed as though they were about to fight. Was it about money?

Sun Hu let out a slow, controlled breath. The tension hanging over the table was thick, like the humidity before a storm. He studied the two men, who now sat across from each other with false calm, their clenched fists hidden beneath the table. It was no longer about the food or the rooms. Something deeper was at play.

Jin Longwei’s black eyes remained steady, unblinking, commanding authority. You know what’s wrong, but you don’t want to spill it in front of the others.

Sun Hu's scalp tingled, a familiar sensation when a clue presented itself. He rose, teacup in hand, waving the other arm in a grand gesture around the table. “Allow me to raise this cup for this grand occasion. I feel blessed to dine with such esteemed company. May the Emperor live ten thousand years, and may he bless Jiangzhen with his ever-grand wisdom and wealth!”

All at once, the cups were raised. The tension eased as people began to sip their teas. Jin Longwei shot Sun Hu a thankful look, though there was a hint of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Sun Hu to clear the air.

A clap sounded close by, and two servers moved around the table, placing new plates in front of the guests. Sun Hu was a bit disappointed when he saw fried rice on the plate. After that kimchi ramen, he’d expected another new dish, one he hadn’t tried before. But fried rice with chicken? It was a pity.

The others seemed to share his thoughts. Even Dai Aiguo, who had devoured the earlier plates like a pig, seemed taken aback. He stared at the waiter as if to say, This is it? and received only a nod in response.

Sighs sounded from left and right.

“Fried rice is a staple of our culture,” the plump man’s voice rang out, now deeper and more confident. “It’s a simple dish we’ve come to love. Our mothers cooked it. Our restaurants serve it. To this day, it remains one of the pillars of our culinary world.”

That earned him nods from the table. Fried rice was indeed a common dish. Sun Hu himself had eaten more than his fill of it as a child, and even his father, the Grand Judge of the Emperor’s Court, liked the taste. He always said it reminded him of simpler times.

“Therefore, it is our duty, our mission, to stay true to our roots while exploring the new tastes of foreign cultures. The fried rice with eggs, served with chicken, represents our chef’s patriotic respect for our Empire. It is essentially a love letter to our tradition, written and shaped through the eyes of a chef.”

The plump man clasped his hands and bowed deeply as the last plate was placed on the table. Rising, he regarded each guest with a solemn gaze before withdrawing from the hall.

Sun Hu found himself gulping at the sight of his plate. Fried rice… It was just a simple dish. What could be special about it? While it had great importance for the general public, as cultivators and officers of the Governor’s Office, they were long past caring for these simple things.

Even Sun Hu thought that way, so it was no surprise that the others looked massively disappointed. Dai Aiguo, who had spent a golden coin on a room, seemed to regret it already. Mao Hu clenched his jaw, clearly holding back curses.

“Let’s try it, shall we?” Sun Hu said, reaching with his chopsticks for the rice.

He choked on his first bite. The grains of rice exploded in his mouth, dissolving into a roaring river of flavors that crashed its way down through his chest. It jabbed at him with furious blows, nearly making him double over the table.

Another bite followed even as Sun Hu gasped for breath. He had to consciously control his cultivation base, lest he reveal his true strength. With a mental command, he sealed his Foundation, letting the winds of spiritual energy pass by it as if it wasn’t there. Slowly, painfully, he guided the stray threads of spiritual energy toward his meridians.

If he were to use his Foundation, this amount of Qi couldn’t even tickle his innards, but it was almost too much for a Body Tempering Stage cultivator. Mao Hu coughed violently at his side, spattering rice and egg all over his plate. Before him, Dai Aiguo was trying to wheeze out a breath. He sounded just like a pig about to take its last breath.

Everyone else was either groaning or wobbling wildly around the table. It looked as if the chef was trying to kill them, right here and now.

“Heavens!” Sun Hu exclaimed, stumbling back onto his seat, holding his hand over his mouth in an effort to imitate the common reactions of the others. He had to play the part. “What is this?!”

People coughed and sputtered before finally a deep silence settled over the main hall. Fingers trembled, gasps echoed, and faces flushed with a mix of excitement and horror as they all stared at the fried rice.

The balance was so fine that Sun Hu had to stop himself from reaching for a third bite. He wanted to devour the rest and seal his mouth so that the food would remain in his stomach. He could grind it slowly with his Foundation, bit by bit, to savor the taste.

“Manager Lou!” Mao Hu roared, his teeth clenched. “Manager Lou!”

The plump man came bounding from the kitchen, his face carrying a perfect smile as if he wasn’t surprised by the outcome. Still, he bowed deeply to Mao Hu.

“How may this lowly Lou be of service to you, Senior?” he asked, his voice steady. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough rice for a second portion. Tonight’s dinner shall end—”

“Forget about the portion!” Mao Hu snapped, pointing a finger at his face. “Call that chef here, right away! I want to see him with my own eyes!”

“Sir, I’m afraid he isn’t available,” the plump man said sadly. “You see, our chef is a highly eccentric cultivator. That’s why he had to leave his old restaurant when people tried to become acquainted with him. He values his privacy, and we must honor his wishes.”

“Oh?” Mao Hu was taken aback.

Dai Aiguo, however, nodded knowingly before glaring at Mao Hu. “It’s no surprise such a chef doesn’t like attention. People with no manners must have tried to force him back in the day!”

“Talent must be respected,” Jin Longwei said, matter-of-factly. “Our Jiangzhen is fortunate to host such a chef. We must ensure that this Heavenly Chef’s privacy is respected. Don’t worry, I’ll send one of my men to stand guard at your door so that no one bothers you.”

Sun Hu nearly rolled his eyes. He doubted Jin Longwei would spare one of his men just for that. He was likely plotting to find out who this chef really was through his guard. It was a clever plan, but the plump man seemed to be expecting it.

“You’re too kind, Senior!” the plump man said, bowing deferentially. “But we are perfectly capable of managing on our own. It is for this reason alone that our chef decided to settle in a mortal city, refusing offers from dozens of Immortal Cities. He simply wants to be left alone to focus on his craft. Nothing more, nothing less. I hope you understand his concerns.”

Sun Hu was taken aback. By mentioning the dozens of offers from Immortal Cities, this plump fellow was making it clear that his master wasn’t just an ordinary man. He could be a highly accomplished cultivator or a one-of-a-kind genius, and no one at this table could afford to offend such a figure.

“Understood,” Mao Hu said with a deep frown. He then forced a smile. “Then do send my regards to your chef. I’m in awe of his heavenly dishes.”

“Will do, my good Sir, will do,” the plump man said, retreating back to the kitchen, leaving the people around the table with a heap of questions.

“A secret master…” Jin Longwei muttered under his breath, scowling as if disturbed. “There’s nothing but secret masters as of late.”

“What was that, Brother Longwei?” Sun Hu probed. “Did you say something?”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jin Longwei jerked back in panic, then gathered himself as he took a sip of tea. “I was saying that we’re fortunate. It’s not every day you get to try dishes like these.”

Well, you’re not wrong. I’ve eaten better dishes, but these are undoubtedly among the best our Empire has to offer.

The difference between Jade Cauldron and this restaurant was stark. The Jade Cauldron’s head chef was a real Spiritual Chef, and many thought he was a Master in the Nascent Soul Stage. It was said his accomplishments in the Dao of Cooking were so deep that with a single breath, he could kindle all the stoves in the Empire and breathe thousands of different flavors into a dish. So, it wouldn’t be fair to compare his dishes to the ones Sun Hu had just tried.

Still, this new chef was promising. Once Sun Hu was done with the Governor, he might send word to his father about this chef. His father always liked to support promising talents.

Shaking his head, Sun Hu was about to take another bite of the rice when the door to the main hall creaked open. The night breeze filled the room, fluttering the edges of his robe.

There, in the dark of the night, stood an old man clad in dark robes.