“Xinli, Xinli—are you going to do something about your disciple or not? She said my cooking tastes awful, wuuu—!”
The loud, unrestrained wailing echoed around the main hall of the Hantang Pavilion, unable to drift away as it was blocked by the formation outside.
The towering, burly head chef elder was clutching Fairy Peilan’s leg, crying with snot and tears streaming down his face. He was so huge that even sitting on the ground he looked like a collapsed mountain, and heavy too—without using magic, Fairy Peilan couldn’t pull her leg free from his grip.
His crying gave her a headache; even the silk ribbon draped over her arms had stopped floating. She simply cast a glance toward Lin Zhengdu, who stood nearby.
Lin Zhengdu: “It really does taste bad.”
The chef elder burst into even louder sobs.
Fairy Peilan, thoroughly annoyed, tried harder to pull her leg away. “It’s such a small matter—what’s there to cry about? Why not just serve your ‘creative dishes’ in the Sword Sect’s dining hall?”
The chef elder complained miserably, “There’s a demon over there who loves eating in the cafeteria—if he thinks the food tastes bad, he forces the chef to remake it… I had to reopen the stove twelve times in one noon! Every time I finished, he’d take one bite and dump it out!”
Fairy Peilan: “…Doesn’t that just prove your cooking really is bad?!”
The chef elder argued confidently, “That’s because I’m still exploring the interaction between ingredients! Once I’m done experimenting, I’ll create the perfect fusion of medicinal herbs and food! The championship of the next Nine Provinces God of Cooking Competition will definitely be mine!”
This world wasn’t like the novels Lin Zhengdu had read before, with clearly separated realms like immortal, mortal, or demon domains. Ordinary people and cultivators both lived in the same world. The Nine Provinces were vast and rich in spiritual energy. Although humans held the advantage due to their numbers and learning ability, they generally coexisted peacefully with other non-cannibalistic races—large-scale racial wars were rare.
Not all cultivators pursued combat strength either. Strange and varied competitions frequently appeared across the Nine Provinces. The “God of Cooking Competition” the elder mentioned was one of them.
Lin Zhengdu said, “That competition values delicious innovation, not terrible innovation. Martial Uncle, you won’t win the championship—give up. And once you do, please bring the old chefs back.”
The Medicine Sect and Sword Sect shared the same kitchen staff. Before this elder suddenly decided to research medicinal cuisine, the cooks had been normal culinary cultivators and part-time disciples who enjoyed cooking.
As a senior, the chef elder couldn’t possibly hit a junior in anger—especially not one who was Fairy Peilan’s disciple, since he couldn’t beat her master anyway.
But he had his own trick: rolling on the ground, clinging and crying stubbornly. He figured this junior, only at the second cultivation realm, wouldn’t be able to threaten him with a sword like that “demon” from Yan Chou Mountain.
But unexpectedly, this gentle-looking junior was incredibly firm.
Even Fairy Peilan had already closed her eyes and entered a meditative trance. If not for Lin Zhengdu refusing to give in, she would have already said, “Fine, fine, go make your creative dishes.” But she was a protective, unreasonable master who doted on her disciple.
So since her beloved disciple refused, Fairy Peilan could only cover her ears and endure the elder’s tantrum without interfering.
In the end, the chef elder cried himself tired and realized Lin Zhengdu wouldn’t budge—she insisted the cooks must be replaced, or she wouldn’t let him leave Hantang Pavilion.
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Lin Zhengdu took out a pre-written guarantee from her storage ring. “Please sign this agreement and leave your spiritual imprint. Master, please act as witness.”
The chef elder looked incredulous. “You don’t trust my word?!”
Lin Zhengdu only smiled silently, still holding out the document. The elder had no choice but to sign it unhappily and leave his imprint. Fairy Peilan also added hers as witness.
After sending him off, Fairy Peilan rubbed her temples, watching Lin Zhengdu calmly roll up the agreement and store it away.
Her pale, slender fingers—clearly defined at the joints—wore a ring with a green gemstone on the ring finger. Fairy Peilan was certain that ring did not come from the pavilion’s treasury.
She narrowed her eyes and suddenly asked, “The storage ring on your hand…”
Lin Zhengdu paused almost imperceptibly. It lasted only half a second. There was nothing to hide—but when she spoke, a trace of guilt slipped into her voice: “A friend brought it back for me as a gift while traveling.”
Fairy Peilan’s soft ribbon floated like water plants, her tone carrying a hint of meaning. “I see…”
She didn’t press further, but her mind worked quickly.
The ring was high-grade, at least made by a sixth-tier craftsman. Zhengdu hadn’t left the sect, so it must be from someone within the Northern Mountain area—likely a Sword or Medicine Sect disciple who had gone traveling.
A preference for embedding expensive gemstones… ah, it was from that disciple from Yun Province.
She solved it in under half an incense stick’s time.
That afternoon, Lin Zhengdu resumed her clinic duties. She sent her junior siblings to study medical texts and organize herbs while she practiced calligraphy behind the desk.
Her hand wrote automatically, but her thoughts drifted aimlessly like a jellyfish.
Soon the page filled with ink. Seeing no space left, she flipped it over and, instead of practicing, dipped her brush again and drew a round little messenger bird.
Her drawing skill captured spirit well; with just a few strokes, the bird came alive.
After a pause, she added a young swordsman—long hair tied in a high ponytail, holding a sword. She didn’t draw his facial features. Holding the brush, she hesitated, rolling it between her fingers.
That day, Xie Guanqi had followed her around for a full day. After returning that night, she still didn’t know why he had followed her—but it had only been… two days since they last met.
Her brows furrowed, and she scribbled over the figure.
Then she immediately regretted it. She had put effort into drawing it, and without a face, who said it had to be Xie Guanqi?
There were plenty of young swordsmen in black.
Destroying it only made her seem guilty. Why should she feel guilty? It was Xie Guanqi’s fault—since the Sword Sect was so close, couldn’t he just come by every day like clocking in for work?
While she spun her brush and drifted in thought, footsteps approached outside.
Two young Sword Sect female disciples entered, lifting the bamboo curtain. One clutched her arm, eyes red with tears.
Qinglan rushed out. “What happened?”
Her companion said anxiously, “She sparred with a senior from the Purple Bamboo Grove and had her tendons cut by sword qi—please take a look, will this affect her sword practice?”
Lin Zhengdu stepped forward, gently pulling the injured arm. The girl didn’t cry out, just looked at her with teary eyes. “Doctor… can I still be saved?”
Lin Zhengdu: “Bones are fine. Remove the wrist guard.”
The sleeve was rolled up, revealing a deep, narrow slash across her wrist and forearm. Though small on the surface, it was extremely deep—one meridian had indeed been severed, blood nearly soaking her arm. Yet she had walked all the way here—her physical endurance was remarkable.
Lin Zhengdu calmly explained treatment options and pricing. Upon hearing “five thousand spirit stones,” the girl immediately chose the cheaper medicinal treatment.
Lin Zhengdu prescribed herbs, had supplies fetched, and began treating her.
When the sword qi was extracted, it was extremely painful—the girl buried her face in Lin Zhengdu’s chest and cried loudly.
After stitching and bandaging the wound, Lin Zhengdu gave instructions for recovery.
Before they left, the accompanying girl complained angrily about the Purple Bamboo Grove disciples and suggested reporting to Senior Brother Xie.
Lin Zhengdu paused slightly at the mention of him. “You’re Xie Guanqi’s junior sister?”
Mingzhu nodded.
Lin Zhengdu lowered her head to write the prescription. “I finish work at early evening. Stay here for half an hour daily—I’ll come to the Sword Sect to help you remove the sword qi.”
Mingzhu was stunned and grateful. Lin Zhengdu added casually, “I’m on good terms with your senior brother. It’s only right I take care of you.”
The next evening, Lin Zhengdu traveled to the Sword Sect and treated Mingzhu again.
While chatting casually, she asked about their training schedule—and then, seemingly offhand, brought up Xie Guanqi.
Mingzhu answered without suspicion, even betraying her senior brother:
“He’s not been practicing recently… he’s been asking Second Senior Brother to introduce him to sisters from the Hehuan Sect.”
Lin Zhengdu paused. “…Hehuan Sect disciples?”
Mingzhu nodded. “Yeah, I even saw Second Senior Brother bring one to his residence yesterday.”
Lin Zhengdu smiled gently, eyes curved. “So—you’re saying he hasn’t been practicing, hasn’t gone out, but instead arranged to meet a female cultivator from the Hehuan Sect through his junior?”
Her tone was soft. Her smile was warm.
Yet for some reason, Mingzhu felt a chill run down her spine.
An ominous sixth sense rose in her heart.