A few days after the thrilling climax of the Blue Wind Ranking Tournament, the atmosphere in Blue Wind Imperial City shifted—not with the clashing of swords or bursts of profound energy, but with the rising scent of sizzling oils, simmering broths, and fragrant spices.
It was time for the Blue Wind Cooking Competition, a prestigious event held once every three years, renowned across the empire for uncovering the most talented culinary masters from every corner of the land.
While it didn't boast the raw spectacle of a tournament between sects, the culinary competition had earned its own fame and prestige. Chefs from noble clans, high-class pavilions, and even traveling kitchens had gathered for the chance to seize the title of greatest cook in the Blue Wind Empire—a mark of excellence that could make or break a culinary career.
The rules were strict and fair. A panel of unaffiliated judges, carefully chosen from the top culinary establishments, stood behind the long judging table. None were from powerful sects. None could be bribed or swayed by politics. Their knives were sharp, their tongues sharper, and their palettes legendary.
Each match would be a one-on-one culinary duel. Contestants would be given twenty long incense sticks—roughly twenty minutes—to prepare a dish of their choosing. Only one would move on. Victory depended solely on flavor, technique, presentation, and originality.
A total of sixty-four contestants had been selected through regional qualifiers, and now the main bracket was set. The arena had been transformed into a sprawling open-air kitchen complex, with eight matches happening simultaneously, allowing crowds to wander between duels like a bustling food fair.
When the lots were drawn, Yun Che found himself holding Number 31, matched against Number 32, a proud chef from the Heaven Cloud Sect—a sect known not only for its storm-based techniques, but also for its bizarre approach to "lightning-infused" cuisine.
Yun Che chuckled to himself as he looked over at his opponent, who was already sharpening a pair of strangely runed knives.
"Lightning in the kitchen?" he mused, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see if he can handle a real fire."
The bell rang, signaling the start of the first round.
And just like that, the Blue Wind Cooking Competition began—where blades still clashed, but this time over cutting boards, sizzling pans, and the fierce heat of culinary pride.
Groans of disappointment and scattered cheers rippled through the competition grounds as the results of the first three sections of the first round were announced. Some contestants wept quietly over burnt sauces and undercooked rice, while others basked in the cheers of their supporters. Among the victors stood Lady Qian Qian, her arms crossed confidently and a smirk tugging at her lips as she locked eyes with Yun Che.
"Don't you dare lose, Yun Che!" she called, half-joking but with a glint of sincerity behind her laughter.
Yun Che raised an eyebrow. "What's with this woman?" he muttered under his breath, unable to tell whether she was cheering for him or issuing a threat.
The fourth and final section of the first round was now underway, and Yun Che stood across from his opponent—a tall, middle-aged chef representing the Heaven Cloud Sect. The man radiated an air of superiority, his arms folded and his sneer obvious.
"It is better to concede now, boy," he said coldly. "You might shine in tournaments, but in the world of cuisine, you're nothing but an ant."
Yun Che didn't respond. He simply stepped forward and began placing his ingredients on the counter with deliberate care. Each item was chosen not for show, but for harmony and heart: earthy potatoes, soft mushrooms, sweet white onions, a sprig of rosemary, a slab of salted butter, and thick-cut strips of marbled beast meat. He followed with small bottles of red wine, sweet sake, mirin, and soy sauce, along with a pinch of sea salt and fresh parsley for garnish.
His opponent snorted. "Boy knows how to cook peasant food. Doesn't matter what you make, you'll never beat a true chef."
Yun Che let out a soft chuckle, eyes narrowing with quiet resolve. "Right…" he said to himself, "Talk all you want, but I didn't inherit the name Yukihira just to let it be stepped on."
A hush fell over the crowd as the announcer raised his hand.
"Final section of Round One… commence!"
The gong rang out.
Fire roared to life across the cooking stations. Pans clattered, knives danced over chopping boards, and fragrant steam quickly began to rise from every corner. Yun Che moved with purpose and control, his hands a blur of precision. He wasn't cooking with arrogance. He was cooking from instinct, from memory, and from something deeper—a passion forged in kitchens, not battlefields.
And as the red wine hissed into the pan, mingling with butter and soy, the scent that filled the air made even the most skeptical of judges lean forward with curious anticipation.
Yun Che began by preparing his ingredients with swift, practiced hands—peeling and quartering six white potatoes before setting them to steam until soft. As they cooked, he finely diced three Eringi mushrooms and a large white onion into uniform brunoise. All ingredients from The System. A pat of butter sizzled in his pan as he caramelized the mushrooms and onions to a golden finish, releasing a rich aroma that began to turn heads among the spectators. Once the potatoes were done, he mashed them into a chunky texture—firm enough to shape—before combining them with the golden mushroom-onion mix and a sprinkle of salt, blending everything into a hearty filling.
After letting the mix cool, Yun Che shaped it into a log and began wrapping it with thick-cut beef bacon, covering it completely to seal in the flavor. Twine secured the shape, with sprigs of rosemary threaded through for aroma. Lacking an oven, he summoned his compressed phoenix flames—an intense but controlled heat—and hovered the roast over it, rotating it with near-perfect precision. The meat beef bacon sizzled and crisped to a golden-brown hue over the course of several minutes, the roast slowly firming up into its final form. Meanwhile, in a separate pan, Yun Che reduced red wine, then blended in butter, sweet sake, soy sauce, and mirin to create a thick, glossy sauce.
Once the roast was done, he removed the twine and rosemary and carefully plated the dish. He poured the red wine glaze over the top, letting the sauce soak into the crispy beef bacon and seep into the savory mash beneath. A final touch of freshly chopped parsley crowned the dish with vibrant color. The scent alone caused nearby judges and spectators to pause, their mouths watering in anticipation. Yun Che stepped back, arms folded, his fiery dish radiating warmth and confidence—an unconventional masterpiece born not from tradition, but from passion and grit.
His movements were blindingly swift—just ten minutes had passed, yet Yun Che had already entered the final stage of preparation. Using his compressed phoenix flames in place of an oven, he roasted the dish with surgical precision. This wasn't mere cooking; it was Gourmet—a style of culinary mastery foreign to this world. The aroma that wafted from his station wasn't just pleasant—it was intoxicating. The rich scent of seared beef bacon, wine reduction, and caramelized onions wove through the competition grounds, silencing the crowd with pure, primal hunger.
Retsu and Mio watched with wide eyes, stunned. Yun Che had unveiled a recipe they had never seen before. He wasn't just refining familiar dishes—he was introducing new ones, effortlessly. Until now, they had spent all their time learning to perfect his existing recipes, but this was something else entirely. The realization struck them: their teacher's depths had yet to be fully explored. Every movement he made conveyed mastery, innovation, and absolute confidence.
Far beyond the crowd, the scent reached Xia Qingyue, Chu Yuechan, and Chu Yueli. The aroma gripped them instantly, stirring an unfamiliar craving deep within their cores. Despite their cultivation and refined senses, none of them had ever encountered such an alluring fragrance. Their eyes drifted toward the competition stage with an almost dreamlike fascination, drawn not by curiosity—but by hunger.
As Yun Che removed his phoenix flame, a gentle wisp of steam rose from the perfectly seared roast. The room fell silent—then murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd. The dish, though seemingly simple in appearance, radiated an irresistible allure. Golden-crisp bacon wrapped around a delicately formed roast, glistening under a rich glaze of red wine reduction, with hints of sweet sake and butter. The scent alone was enough to draw every pair of eyes in the arena.
Judges, contestants, and even spectators from other matches turned their attention to Yun Che, captivated. Many had never seen such meticulous technique nor experienced an aroma so profound and elegant. It wasn't just cooking—it was artistry that transcended anything the Blue Wind Empire had witnessed before.
His opponent stood frozen, mouth agape. His own dish now looked plain and forgettable in comparison. Unable to contain his disbelief, he shouted, "Impossible… this is impossible!" But no one spared him a glance. All focus was on the young man who had just turned a battlefield of chefs into a stage for a masterclass.
Yun Che smirked confidently as he stepped forward, placing his dish before the panel of judges. A wave of mouthwatering aroma rolled over the table the moment the plate touched down. The rich scent of roasted bacon, subtly sweet wine reduction, and earthy mushrooms sent an involuntary shiver of anticipation through the seasoned chefs. Their eyes widened—not just in surprise, but in awe. It was clear this dish wasn't simply cooked; it was crafted with precision, soul, and an artistry none of them had witnessed before.
His opponent, standing off to the side, wore a strained expression as he placed his own dish forward. Though technically complete, it paled in every aspect—presentation, aroma, and allure. The colors were dull, the plating was amateurish, and worst of all, it emitted no fragrance that stirred the appetite. A few judges gave it a passing glance, more out of courtesy than interest, while most of their attention remained fixed on Yun Che's creation, as if the mere sight of it demanded reverence.
With a glint in his eyes, Yun Che stepped back, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch. He didn't need to boast—his dish had already spoken.
"I call this one… Roasted Beef," Yun Che said with a casual smirk, pausing for dramatic effect. "Just kidding. It's a potato dish—wrapped with beef bacon." The audience chuckled, but the judges were too distracted to laugh. Their eyes locked on the dish, nostrils flaring as the aroma wrapped around them like an invisible lure. One by one, they took their forks, each tasting the golden roast with measured anticipation—only to be immediately overwhelmed. Their eyes widened, hands trembling slightly as the savory umami burst on their tongues, the perfect balance of rosemary-scented potatoes, the wine's sweetness, and the richness of the crispy beef bacon all melting together in a harmonious symphony. A collective foodgasm swept through the judges' panel.
Across the platform, his opponent clenched his teeth, still trying to salvage his pride. "It's just a fluke! There's no way some brat—" But temptation overpowered ego. He grabbed a fork, carved a piece from Yun Che's dish, and tasted it. The moment the flavors hit, his eyes glazed over and his legs buckled, collapsing to his knees in front of the entire crowd. "I… I admit defeat," he whispered, voice trembling.
Gasps and murmurs echoed from the audience. Some were outright salivating just watching, others whispering how much they'd pay just to sample such divine cuisine. Then, one of the judges, a stoic man who had earlier looked down on Yun Che, raised his voice using profound energy for the entire arena to hear: "Number 31, Yun Che… wins." Yun Che gave a playful grin, bowing slightly. "Hope you liked it," he quipped—the famous tagline of a certain anime echoing proudly in this new world.
Yun Che didn't even glance back as the judges devoured every last bite of his dish. Their restraint crumbled under the overwhelming flavor, leaving not even a single flake of garnish behind. He had just raised the bar—sky high. From the edge of the arena, Lady Qian Qian caught a whiff of the dish's lingering aroma, her body shivering slightly from its intoxicating pull. She gritted her teeth, trying to suppress her envy, but a small smile betrayed her respect. Even her siblings, proud chefs in their own right, couldn't stop themselves from salivating.
Cheers erupted throughout the competition grounds as Yun Che's name was announced as the victor. With the first round cleared, the path ahead grew steeper—round of thirty-two, then sixteen, eight, four, and finally, the last two. Calm and confident, he turned toward his supporters. His girls—Retsu, Nemu, and Mio including Kon and Mei—were bouncing with excitement, clapping proudly.
"Mouu! Yuu-kun, you still have a ton of recipes left to teach us," Retsu pouted, clearly hoping today's surprise would open the floodgates.
Yun Che chuckled. "Like I said, unless you can perfectly recreate my recipe, I won't hand out the next. You haven't even scratched the surface of what the gourmet world holds."
"We just want to be the first ones to taste them," Retsu added softly, her eyes bright.
With a mischievous grin, Yun Che motioned them to follow. "Come on, it'll be a while until my next turn. Let's find a quiet spot." He led them to a more open area within the competition grounds, pulling out a second prepared roasted beef from his inventory. As he presented the dish with a flourish, their eyes sparkled in anticipation.
"Well, I did make two," he said, smirking.
"Yatta!" Nemu and Mio cheered in unison with Nemu's own quiet cheering before diving in with gleeful hunger. Even Mei and Kon enjoyed it. Their joy drew more than a few envious stares from nearby contestants and spectators alike. Even Xia Qingyue, watching silently from afar, couldn't hide the flicker of jealousy that passed through her eyes. He had lovingly fed his fiancées—but had left his own wife to only watch.
It was understandable—Yun Che knew he couldn't openly offer his dish to Xia Qingyue without raising unnecessary attention. He had too many eyes on him, too many sects already watching for any sign of favoritism or weakness. Still, Xia Qingyue's expression was hard to ignore: restrained envy mixed with longing. Her eyes drifted toward Chu Yuechan, who let out a quiet sigh, clearly feeling the same pang of jealousy.
Maybe tonight, Qingyue mused, I'll follow her and ask him to cook something for us too.
Meanwhile, the higher sects were seething. Members of the Xiao Clan and the Burning Heaven Clan clenched their fists in frustration. Yun Che had done more than just win—he had set a new standard, one so high it made their own efforts seem like child's play.
"We can't let him keep winning," one elder growled in a low voice.
"The second round requires using designated ingredients," another murmured. "Let's tamper with what he gets. Force him to cook with what we choose."
"We must get that fish," a third added greedily. "Its energy reserves are too valuable to lose to some brat chef."
Back in his resting area, Yun Che smiled calmly. Sensing Retsu and Mio's genuine desire to learn, he had already passed the recipe to them using his Sharingan. He could already imagine them trying to recreate it for dinner tonight. It made him proud—and slightly amused.
With a short break over, the second round officially began. Despite other chefs bringing their best, none of their dishes could hold a candle to Yun Che's earlier performance. When the second phase was announced—where chefs were given pre-selected ingredients and required to work with them—some groaned while others steeled themselves.
Lady Qian Qian advanced easily, her skill and confidence on full display. She taunted her flustered opponent with an almost theatrical laugh as she whipped up her next dish.
Then it was Yun Che's turn.
As he stepped onto the stage, his eyes quickly scanned the crowd—and caught the sly, smug expressions from several chefs aligned with the Xiao Sect and Burning Heaven Clan. They were snickering, trying to contain their laughter.
Yun Che's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Yun Che's opponent in the second round hailed from the Cloudless Sect, a relatively low-profile group but not without ambition. As Yun Che opened the provided ingredient box, his eyes briefly widened at the sight: plain white rice, salted mackerels, black soybeans, soy sauce, dried squid, salt, eggs, onions, and some slices of hardened bread. These were basic, even bland, pantry staples—nothing exotic, luxurious, or high-energy like what other contestants were receiving.
He instantly understood. "So they're already playing dirty," he muttered, his voice low enough for only himself to hear.
Yet instead of frustration, a grin curled on his lips. This wasn't discouragement—it was a challenge, and he loved challenges. Where others saw limitation, Yun Che saw opportunity. The fire in his eyes flared.
Retsu, watching from the sidelines, instantly noticed his reaction. "He's going to use that recipe, ufufufu?" she whispered, a mix of excitement and awe in her voice.
Mio's eyes gleamed. "Let them mock him now. When he's done, they'll cry in shame."
Nemu folded her arms. "They dared to cheat Yuu-sama?"
The moment the second round began, Yun Che exploded into action. Despite the glaring disadvantage in ingredients, his hands moved with speed and precision, as if he had practiced this routine a hundred times over. His opponents sneered at first, thinking his calmness was a bluff—but their confidence quickly crumbled.
First, he cracked the eggs, beating them rapidly while dicing onions with a practiced hand. The bread, though stale, was quickly shaved down for its crust and crushed into usable crumbs. He de-boned and crushed the salted mackerels, forming them into rough patties infused with the egg-onion mixture, salt, pepper, and crumbs to bind them together. Without a second of hesitation, he deep-fried the patties in oil, using a technique that crisped the outside while preserving moisture inside.
For his side dish, he improvised a simple yet elegant soup. Using the leftover salted mackerel broth, he added ponzu sauce—something he was permitted to bring as part of his seasonings—and thickened it with potato starch and beaten egg, forming a smooth, umami-rich egg drop soup with subtle oceanic notes. Everything was plated neatly beside the white rice, creating a vibrant, balanced meal that exuded warmth and depth.
In only ten minutes, Yun Che stood tall, presenting a humble yet astonishing dish that glowed with the soul of true cooking. A simple rice meal—elevated by creativity and precision. It wasn't just a comeback. It was a statement.
"Impossible! We gave him nothing but scraps!" one elder from the Xiao Sect shouted in disbelief.
"There's no way it tastes good. He's just bluffing!" another scoffed.
But their words were swiftly drowned out by the wave of rich, savory aroma wafting from Yun Che's table. The scent alone was enough to make the judges—and even the saboteurs—freeze in stunned silence. The crowd leaned in, drawn by the intoxicating smell that filled the arena, while the judges' eyes widened with barely concealed anticipation.
Despite being handed a box of "dull" and supposedly useless ingredients, Yun Che had turned the tables in a way no one could have predicted. With perfect composure, he presented eight neatly plated servings—one for each judge. The vibrant colors of the crisped mackerel patties, the glossy sheen of the egg-drop broth, and the fluffy white rice formed a dish that felt more like a warm, homestyle banquet than a last-minute improvisation.
He bowed slightly, voice calm but laced with irony. "I'd like to thank those who gave me no meat or chicken. Truly, I'm grateful for the opportunity." He straightened and gestured to his creation. "This is my Improvised Mackerel Burger Meal. Please—enjoy."
The audience erupted in gasps and murmurs, and even a few impressed cheers. Yun Che didn't just survive the sabotage. He used it as a stepping stone—and in doing so, sent a very clear message: No matter the hand he's dealt, he'll still come out on top.
Yun Che's dish was nothing short of alchemy in the kitchen. Using only the humble ingredients handed to him—white rice, salted mackerel, onions, eggs, breadcrumbs, and a bit of dried squid—he had conjured a masterpiece. The centerpiece was a golden-brown Mackerel Burger, crisp on the outside yet tender and juicy within. Alongside it was a clear, savory egg soup, enhanced with the subtle umami of a makeshift dashi made from dried squid. The dish was rustic, yet refined—simple in its components, but executed with unmatched skill.
When the judges took their first bite, time seemed to stop. It wasn't just the taste—it was the nostalgia it evoked, as if they had been transported back to a comforting meal from a distant past. One judge dropped his spoon in awe, another finished the rice before realizing it. In moments, every last grain and drop of broth was gone. Compared to the other contestants' offerings, Yun Che's meal wasn't just food—it was a complete experience.
"Number 31, Yun Che! Wins and proceeds to the third round!" the announcer declared, voice echoing over the stunned silence of the arena.
The crowd erupted into applause, but many rival sects were left in disbelief. The saboteurs, who had hoped to humiliate him, stared with gritted teeth. Despite their best efforts to sabotage him, Yun Che had once again raised the bar—and shattered their expectations.
Yun Che flashed a smug grin toward the cheating sects as he walked calmly away from the judging stage, hands in his pockets, head held high. He didn't need to say a word—their scowls and clenched fists were satisfaction enough. Without breaking stride, he made his way back to Retsu, Mio, and Nemu, who were already waiting with knowing smiles. As before, he casually produced extra portions of his improvised Mackerel Burger Meal, handing them to the trio like prized treasures. He even flicked a portion through his space ring straight to Jasmine—alongside a slice of his now-legendary Fake Roasted Meat.
"Ufufu... even when they cheat, they still can't get over you," Retsu teased, biting into the burger with a blissful hum.
Yun Che shrugged, lips curled into a cocky smirk. "It was a quick improvisation, but they didn't realize even this was gourmet. Cheating? Please. That's child's play."
"They gave you the worst ingredients possible," Mio noted, licking her fingers, "but you turned it into one of the best dishes we've ever had."
Nemu giggled softly. "What about the third round, Yuu-sama?"
"The third round uses a first-come, first-serve tactic," Yun Che explained, his tone relaxed. "The fastest get the best ingredients. But really, the organizers just need four finalists to move on to the fourth round."
"They're going to cheat again, aren't they?" Mio frowned. "Want us to help expose them?"
"No, no," Yun Che waved them off, grinning. "Let them play their little games. It won't matter—they still won't win."
By now, Yun Che's name had spread like wildfire through the venue. Spectators, chefs, and sect representatives alike whispered his name in reverence—or in envy. Several high-ranking sects and elite restaurants even tried to approach him, eager to recruit him on the spot. But Yun Che declined every offer with the same cool indifference. He wasn't here for fame. He wasn't here for prestige. He was here for one thing only.
The fish.
"Ufufu… this is the best day ever. We got to eat two of your dishes today," Retsu purred contentedly, licking a bit of sauce from her finger. Beside her, Mio and Nemu nodded in agreement, their plates already empty. Though Nemu wasn't much of a cook, Yun Che's mention of molecular gastronomy—a scientific, tech-based approach to cuisine—sparked her interest. The idea of crafting food using advanced techniques and technology aligned perfectly with her natural curiosity and affinity for all things technical.
Suddenly, the air shifted as Lady Qian Qian approached, flanked by her siblings, her posture proud, her eyes locked on Yun Che. "Looks like you didn't run away from me after all, Yun Che. Ohohoho! The two of us were destined to battle."
Yun Che lazily sucked on a lollipop, barely sparing her a glance. "No idea what you're talking about. I just want that fish over there. You can have the title, crown, or whatever nonsense this contest offers."
Lady Qian Qian's expression faltered. Her face twitched. Her fan snapped shut with a sharp clack. "You… even after ten years, you still don't remember me?"
Yun Che blinked, genuinely puzzled. "No lady, whoever you are… I really don't."
Her dignified composure shattered. "You bastard!" she shrieked, trembling with emotion. "I will never forgive you! You'll lose eventually! Enjoy this fleeting moment of victory while you still can!"
Storming off in dramatic fury, she left behind a confused silence.
"Ara… someone's certainly pissed," Retsu commented dryly, sipping some leftover soup.
"You really don't know her?" Mio asked.
"Nope," Yun Che replied with a shrug. "Probably something related to the original Yun Che."
At that moment, Jasmine's voice echoed in his mind, accompanied by the distinct sound of chewing. "Didn't you assimilate with his memories?"
"Nope. That guy had two lifetimes' worth of baggage," Yun Che muttered mentally. "The System said it would overload my brain, so it only retained the essentials. Everything else was deleted."
"Well," Jasmine replied between bites, "whoever she is… you definitely left an impression."
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"Why do I feel that woman knows him for some reason?" Little Fairy murmured, her silver brows slightly furrowed as she observed Lady Qian Qian's retreating figure.
Xia Qingyue stood beside her, her gaze lingering on Yun Che. "It made me remember something… Maybe from long ago," she said quietly, though uncertainty lingered in her voice. The memory was distant, like a faded echo, just out of reach.
Chu Yueli, standing behind them with arms folded, let out a tired sigh. "Why are you two so interested in this? Can't we just go back to Frozen Cloud Asgard already?" Her eyes scanned the crowd uneasily. While no one dared approach them directly, the whispers and lingering stares from onlookers were clearly unsettling her. They were used to reverence, not this kind of spectacle.
"No," Little Fairy and Qingyue said in unison, their eyes still locked on the competition stage.
Chu Yueli blinked. "…Seriously?"
But neither of the two paid her any mind. Whatever connection existed between Yun Che and that fiery noblewoman, it had stirred something in both of them—a curious mix of intrigue, unease, and familiarity. And more than that, despite everything, neither of them wanted to miss what Yun Che would cook up next.
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As the competition pressed into its third round, the air crackled with tension and the rich aroma of spices, grilled meats, and simmering broths. Ten minutes had already passed since the start—and the frenzy had begun the moment the rules were announced.
A long banquet-style table sat in the center, overflowing with every imaginable ingredient: cuts of premium beef, tender chicken, rare fish, exotic fruits, vibrant vegetables, spices, herbs, and even high-grade condiments sourced from distant regions.
"You may use any ingredients you desire," the announcer had declared. "You have one hour. Prepare a dish for the judges using what you gather. The winner will be judged purely by taste."
"Begin!"
The shout triggered a storm. The seven other contestants lunged for the table, each snatching their picks with frantic intensity. Among them was Lady Qian Qian, who swept across the table like a war goddess, her every movement sharp and deliberate. She laughed arrogantly, securing rare herbs and the highest-grade meat.
"This round is ours," sneered one of the Xiao Sect chefs as he grabbed fresh sea bream and wild mushrooms. "Make sure that brat gets nothing!"
The chefs from the Burning Heaven Clan followed suit, determined to hoard everything of value. "We'll win this round before he even blinks. Let's starve him of every option."
But Yun Che… didn't move.
He simply leaned against the railing, arms crossed, an unreadable smirk on his face. He watched the chaos unfold with the calm of a man who had already seen the outcome.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Is… is he not going to pick anything?"
"Did he give up?"
"Maybe the pressure finally got to him."
Some elders from the high sects smirked smugly. "Even prodigies meet their limits eventually. Looks like this is where his streak ends."
Thirty incense sticks' worth of time passed—half the competition—and Yun Che still hadn't budged. Meanwhile, Lady Qian Qian had already plated her luxurious dish, a golden roast drizzled with a fragrant wine sauce. The other six contestants also finished early, confident and gloating as their dishes were served to the judges.
With only thirty minutes remaining, Yun Che finally yawned, stretched, and stepped forward.
The judges, audience, and even his opponents looked stunned.
"What is he doing?" one whispered.
"He can't possibly make something good now—not with scraps!"
Some in the crowd began whispering as the aroma from the plated dishes wafted through the air.
"Looks like everyone's done early…"
The Xiao Sect chef puffed up with pride, crossing his arms. "Of course we are. I once prepared a thousand dishes in a single day. This is nothing."
Another from the Burning Heaven Clan scoffed, flipping his blade with flair. "Hmph! Our cooking speed is like a hunting shark—fast, precise, and merciless. This is the true power of our sect."
The remaining chefs joined in the chorus of arrogance, flaunting their quick completion as if the competition was already over.
"Nothing he can pull out now will beat this."
"Time's ticking. He's just wasting his own chance."
Despite their boasts, Lady Qian Qian didn't join in. She said nothing—her perfectly crafted dish already in front of the judges—but her sharp violet eyes never left Yun Che. She watched as he calmly walked forward, not to the center table, but to a corner spot with his own ingredients.
He wasn't rushed. He wasn't panicked. And that terrified her more than all their bragging combined.
Yun Che stood silently with the empty basket in hand, scanning what remained like a predator eyeing opportunity. The ingredient table was a battlefield—picked clean by the greedy and careless. Yet what others saw as scraps, he saw as potential.
Discarded potato peels, broccoli stems, bruised tomatoes, half-fish carcasses with meat still clinging to the bone, unused chicken fat, crushed herbs… all lay forgotten, scattered, and stepped on. Bones with marrow, vegetable ends, wilted greens—what others thought unworthy now formed a mosaic of waste.
His expression didn't change, but there was a certain sharpness in his gaze, a spark of irritation cloaked beneath calm resolve.
"What a waste…" he muttered under his breath. "So many hungry people in the world, yet here they waste sacred food like trash."
He knelt and began gathering the forgotten. His movements were careful, almost reverent. As he returned to his workstation, he placed the ingredients down in precise rows: bones, peels, scraps, bruised fruits, wilted herbs. Then he did something unexpected.
Yun Che walked up to the tables of the other chefs.
Without asking, he began collecting the discarded parts from their prep—chopped-off fat, trimmed skins, unused leafy tops—everything they deemed worthless.
The audience stared in stunned silence.
"What… is he doing?"
"Did he just—take garbage?"
Even the judges leaned forward, puzzled. A few murmured among themselves. From her seat, Retsu clenched her hand tightly. She'd been taught, like Yun Che, that food was sacred. This scene made her heart ache.
"To think they'd waste so much…" she whispered.
Lady Qian Qian narrowed her eyes. Her curiosity briefly outweighed her pride.
"He's serious… even now?"
And yet Yun Che said nothing. No smug grin. No theatrics. Just quiet, deliberate movements as he ignited his compressed flame.
The soft whoosh of fire marked the start of his cooking—and the moment the atmosphere shifted.
The audience was dead silent—spellbound by the audacity, precision, and sheer ingenuity of Yun Che's every movement.
His knives danced across the cutting board like lightning. In one blink, the discarded fish parts—bones, heads, guts—were reduced to a fine, workable paste.
"He's cooking with the parts we didn't even consider edible…" one chef muttered in disbelief.
"He's not just cooking," another whispered, "he's turning garbage into a food for kings."
Yun Che didn't respond. His eyes gleamed with quiet fire as he continued.
He mixed the ground fish paste with finely chopped vegetables—bruised, wilted, rejected by others—and kneaded them with practiced hands into tight, compact balls. The oil in the pan sizzled violently as he dropped them in. Instantly, a mouthwatering aroma burst forth—crispy, rich, and deep.
Then, without pause, he moved to the pot where leftover meat trimmings and fat were boiling.
"Boiling the tougher cuts low and slow renders the fat into a rich base," he explained to no one in particular, yet everyone listened.
Once the broth turned cloudy and silky, he ladled it over the fried fish-vegetable balls in shallow bowls. The dish came to life—glimmering with depth, glistening with care.
"This," he said calmly, "is a perfect pairing with a soup made from discarded shellfish. The bitterness from the guts entices the appetite. The smell alone revives a tired body. Don't believe me? Ask your noses."
He didn't need to ask.
The crowd was salivating. Even the judges, who had eaten six dishes already, leaned forward unconsciously, their expressions growing restless.
Then Yun Che moved to the final step.
He took the thrown-away potato skins—dirty, scratched, and neglected—and gently cleaned them before grinding them down. Mixing in aromatic herbs and spices, he stirred them into the shellfish soup base with practiced ease.
"You can't call it a complete meal without vegetables," he murmured. "And the skin of the potato? It's more nutritious than the flesh. An ideal source of sustenance for those with nothing."
His words echoed across the competition like a sermon. He stepped back, letting the scent speak for itself.
And speak it did—wafting into the stands, drawing audible gasps, watering mouths, and silencing even the most boastful chefs.
Even Lady Qian Qian stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"He used scraps… and created a banquet fit for kings…"
With the final touches complete, Yun Che stepped back from the massive spread he had created—plates of fish, chicken, and meatballs simmered in a rich, savory sauce made from organ meats and rendered fat; a creamy shellfish soup infused with finely ground potato skins; and a vibrant fruit and vegetable salad laced with a fragrant thousand island and mayonnaise blend he'd crafted on the spot. Not even the broccoli stems were spared—he had melted them down into a smooth, aromatic dressing that now glistened across the salad.
Every single discarded ingredient had been used. Nothing remained.
He had just prepared a banquet for a hundred people—in thirty minutes—with what others had thrown away.
As he delicately drizzled the final layer of broccoli dressing over the dishes, he picked up the small cup and placed it on the center plate like a ceremonial crown.
"The stem of the broccoli becomes a gentle and fragrant dressing," he announced with a smirk.
Then he stepped back, bowed respectfully, and declared,
"Cuisine À la Carte."
A wave of stunned silence washed over the arena.
The judges couldn't speak.
The other chefs—once smug and proud—were left breathless.
Even Lady Qian Qian's expression cracked, her eyes wide with awe. He used it all… she thought. Everything we tossed aside. Everything we deemed unworthy.
Yun Che slowly turned to the seven other contestants, his voice calm yet piercing as it rang out across the arena, magnified by the formation's sound projection.
"This arena is a battlefield, isn't it?" he began, eyes locked on theirs.
"But all you care about… is making your food taste good."
The words stung like a slap to the face. The crowd held their breath.
"You boast of your speed, your flair, your techniques… yet you discard half the ingredient you claim to honor."
"A chef who wastes what others would die to eat—is that your pride?"
The entire arena fell into stillness, the mood turning heavy. Even the judges looked down at their own habits with shame.
"It doesn't matter if you spend thousands or millions of coins," he said, now addressing everyone.
"Wasting food is the greatest sin a cook can commit."
And then—his voice softened.
"A true chef uses everything… with love. Every ingredient, every piece. Just like loving every part of a person—flaws and all."
His gaze was no longer just a rebuke—it became a mirror. And none of the chefs standing there could meet his eyes.
Silence. Then—applause. Thunderous. Relentless.
People rose to their feet. Some cried. Even the stoic judges stood in respect, not just for the food—but for the philosophy.
Yun Che didn't smile. He didn't bask in it.
He simply returned to his seat—where Retsu, Mio, and Nemu waited with eyes shining—and took out a lollipop, placing it in his mouth as if nothing had happened.
Yun Che stepped down from the platform, carrying a tray with four meticulously arranged portions of his Cuisine À la Carte: deep-fried meat and fish balls bathed in rich, savory sauce; potato-skin shellfish soup; and a colorful fruit and vegetable salad topped with the fragrant broccoli stem dressing.
He walked over to Retsu and the others, casually placing the dishes in front of them.
"Here. Can't let my girls go hungry," he said with a relaxed smile.
Retsu beamed, her eyes soft with affection as she took the plate. Nemu silently examined every element of the food, fascinated by how he extracted so much from so little. Mio was already munching happily, eyes shining with delight. Even Mei and Kon, perched nearby, were licking their fingers as they devoured the meal.
Meanwhile, the judges began their tasting.
At first, they were hesitant. After all, they had eaten so much already—seven full courses from the other competitors. But the moment the first bite touched their tongues… they stopped.
The flavor bloomed like a sunrise.
"Incredible," one judge murmured.
"Perfectly balanced... the texture, the seasoning…"
"How is this even made from scraps?!"
Forks and spoons moved faster, louder. Before long, they weren't just sampling—they were devouring. One judge even reached over for seconds, ignoring his own pride.
Even as their stomachs screamed from fullness, their hands moved with instinct, unable to stop eating.
It was more than delicious. It was alive.
Yun Che didn't stop there. He had made enough for the crowd. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for a few assistants to bring out small bowls and plates filled with portions of his dish to the audience.
The moment the food touched their lips, silence swept the arena—then came gasps, tears, and loud cheers.
"This… this is divine!"
"He made this out of leftovers?!"
Some of the other contestants who had looked down on him now watched with shame. One chef, head low, muttered:
"Damn… that kid's right."
"We didn't want to lose—but we forgot what it meant to cook."
Another chef clenched his fists, eyes glistening.
"I don't care if I lose anymore. This was a lesson I needed. I've disgraced the honor of our craft."
Then, one of the judges stood up, his voice firm and solemn.
"The results of the third round have been decided."
A hush fell over the crowd.
"From the Xiao Sect—Chef Bai Jian. From the Burning Heaven Clan—Chef Liu Long."
Applause followed, though it was tempered by the awe still hanging in the air.
"Lady Qian Qian."
She raised her head slightly, but didn't smile. Her eyes stayed fixed on Yun Che.
"And finally… Contestant Yun Che."
The arena erupted. Cheers, applause, and wild excitement surged like a tidal wave.
"These four chefs will proceed to the Semi-Final Round of the Grand Cooking Competition! The next match will determine the two finalists who will face off in the culinary duel for the championship!"
The crowd cheered again—but this time, the name on everyone's lips wasn't from the major sects.
It was Yun Che.
He didn't bask in it. He just walked back to his seat, unbothered, enjoying the lollipop in his mouth. He smiled and noticed something. He excused himself before disappearing with his flash step.
Atop a quiet hill overlooking the competition arena, three women sat in graceful silence—Chu Yueli, Xia Qingyue, and Little Fairy. Dignified and reserved as always, they were the picture of elegance... except for the low, traitorous growls of their stomachs.
They usually refrained from indulging in excess, often eating lightly—if at all. But after smelling Yun Che's dishes from afar, their restraint was cracking. Their eyes occasionally glanced at each other, clearly embarrassed yet undeniably starving.
Then, with a sudden flicker of movement and the scent of something fresh and heavenly—
"You…" Chu Yueli blinked, startled.
There stood Yun Che, grinning smugly as if he'd caught them red-handed.
"Can't have you girls going hungry now, can I?" he said with a smirk.
With a snap of his fingers, a picnic sheet unfolded across the grass in a ripple of light, followed by a picnic basket that opened on its own—steam rising gently from within.
Three beautifully plated meals appeared: Fake Roasted Potato Beef, still hot and glistening with its savory glaze.
"Dig in. Don't worry," Yun Che added with a wink. "These restore profound energy. No weight gain. Eat as much as you want, your curves will remain flawless."
The three looked at the food. Then at each other. Then—
They dove in.
Little Fairy's expression turned soft, eyes fluttering in shock at the divine flavor. She could barely speak.
"This... is beyond heavenly…"
Qingyue had already started on her portion, her usual serenity replaced by blissful satisfaction. Her cheeks were faintly pink. Thank God their seating zone was protected by a Frozen Cloud Barrier. It was erected by Chu Yueli because of people's gaze at them, and the reluctance of Qingyue and her elder sister to leave.
Even the disciplined Chu Yueli, though trying to maintain poise, found herself unable to resist. She took bite after bite, her stern demeanor slipping into quiet delight.
Yun Che wasn't done.
From the basket came steamed rice and golden egg soup, paired with his recent mackerel burger. The taste enchanted them even further. They forgot the world. All that mattered was the meal.
And just when they thought it was over—
He brought out the masterpiece.
"And now, the highlight—Cuisine À la Carte. Freshly made," he said proudly, placing small portions before them.
He stood back, arms folded, watching the three most graceful women in Blue Wind Nation eat like they hadn't in years. It was a rare sight, and a satisfying one.
Below the hill, curious gazes turned upward. Some recognized the three fairy-like women of the Frozen Cloud Asgard, usually untouchable and distant—now being personally served by Yun Che himself.
Murmurs spread.
"What's he doing up there?"
"Is he… feeding them?!"
Yun Che smirked, flicking his white coat back as he turned to leave.
"Well, do enjoy it," he said with a wink.
And then—he was gone.
Back at the competition, Retsu eyed him suspiciously.
"Ara~ where were you?" she asked with a knowing smile.
"Can't just leave Little Fairy, her sister, and Qingyue to only watch," Yun Che replied smoothly, popping a new lollipop into his mouth.
Nemu tilted her head. "Strategic culinary seduction?"
Mio giggled. "Ufufu… trying to win their hearts with food, aren't you?"
Yun Che just grinned, walking past them like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Not really," Yun Che said, reclining casually as he stretched his arms. "It just felt odd they were up there watching while you girls enjoyed every dish I made. It doesn't hurt to be nice sometimes."
He grinned, watching Retsu delicately savor another bite. The contentment on her face—and the others'—was more rewarding than any applause or recognition. Cooking with love had meaning when the people he cared for ate with joy.
The greatest joy of an affectionate chef was making food for the one they love.
"Ufufu… as long as you feed us first," Retsu replied sweetly, patting her lips with a napkin. Her eyes shimmered with affection. She eyes him with love and affection.
"Only he can feed us, Ret-chan," Mio chimed in mischievously, sliding beside Yun Che with a playful smile. She leaned forward with a wink. "We won't eat any food unless it's made by you, Danna-sama~."
Nom.
Nemu, quiet as ever, simply nodded in agreement while calmly popping another meatball into her mouth. Her expression remained neutral, but the speed with which she was eating said enough.
"You've got a harem of bottomless pits to feed, teme..." Kon groaned dramatically, rubbing his stomach while still reaching for another meatball.
Mei, meanwhile, looked like she was floating in bliss—eyes closed, cheeks puffed, gently swaying as she chewed.
"So good… following big brother today was the best decision ever…" she murmured, her voice dreamy.
Yun Che chuckled, shaking his head.
"Guess I better keep cooking or you'll all riot."
Retsu, Mio, Nemu, and even Kon laughed.
"Ufufu… Little Yue might be getting jealous," Retsu teased, plucking a slice of fruit from the salad and delicately dipping it into the rich Thousand Island sauce. She took a bite, nodding in delight. "Mmm… this sauce really is divine."
"Is she okay by herself?" Nemu asked softly, glancing toward the distance as if she could somehow sense Cang Yue's mood.
Yun Che leaned back, arms folded behind his head, a lazy smile on his lips.
"I don't know… something tells me she'll be fine. She might even be enjoying herself right now."
He said it casually—but if he only knew what "fun" meant for Cang Yue at this moment, he might've reconsidered.
Because miles away… 'Cang Yue' is currently having her own fun.