The battlefield sizzled with tension, the scent of smoked meat swirling through the air like war drums made of barbecue. Lin Feng stood opposite the Brisket King, whose beard was now braided into ribs, glistening with an otherworldly sauce that shimmered with ancient power.
"This is madness," Flame Duck whispered, clutching a pepper bomb. "Delicious, succulent madness."
Master Zhou gritted his teeth. "We can't let him finish the Forbidden Glaze. If he does, not even the Nine Seals can stop his cholesterol levels—or his power."
The Brisket King raised a massive cleaver carved from the femur of a Flame Ox. "Come, children of weak seasoning! Let me marinate your souls!"
He lunged forward, slamming the ground with a rib-shattering wave of meat Qi. Lin Feng countered with a graceful spin, unleashing Spiral Stir-Fry, his wok-sword sending sautéed onions and blinding steam straight into the air. The two clashed, spice against smoke, flavor against fury.
Bai Xue darted behind the Brisket King, trying to strike his blind spot, but her blade bounced harmlessly off a layer of grilled defense.
"It's like hitting a pork force field!" she shouted, recoiling.
---
Flame Duck's Questionable Plan
Flame Duck, who had been rooting through his satchel of questionable condiments, suddenly leapt onto the battlefield.
"I've got it!" he declared. "We'll use the Ancient Mayonnaise of Slippage!"
Everyone stared.
"You mean the one banned from seven sects and the World Culinary Court?" Bai Xue gasped.
"The one that caused the Dairy Disaster of the East?" Master Zhou whispered.
Flame Duck grinned, unhinged. "Exactly."
He hurled the jar onto the ground. It burst, coating the battlefield in a slippery, shimmering white goo that smelled of garlic and existential regret.
The Brisket King skidded mid-charge, spinning uncontrollably like a meaty top. "WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION?!"
Lin Feng capitalized on the chaos. Activating the Ninth Seal, he began to see the truth behind the Brisket King's technique—layers of emotional stuffing. Loneliness. Pride. A tragic chili cook-off he lost decades ago.
"He's fighting not just us… but his regrets," Lin Feng murmured.
"So what, we hug him?" Flame Duck asked, sliding across the battlefield like a feathered bowling pin.
"No," Lin Feng said, lifting his wok-sword. "We serve him closure."
---
The Redemption Dish
With the Brisket King stumbling in mayonnaise misery, Lin Feng drew from his deepest memory—a dish his mother made when he was ill as a child: Simple Steamed Rice with Fire-Roasted Lotus Root.
He focused. Herbs danced in the air. The wok hissed. The Ninth Seal pulsed, amplifying the aroma to a divine level.
As the dish finished, Lin Feng offered it on a humble porcelain plate.
The Brisket King, still panting, sniffed.
"…This scent…"
He tasted it.
Silence.
Then tears. "This… this is what I've been missing."
His meat aura evaporated like pork in the sun. The battlefield calmed. The sky cleared. Somewhere, a pig squealed in relief.
"I yield," the Brisket King said, kneeling. "Your flavor is… supreme."
---
Aftermath and a Strange Invitation
Back at the Dim Sum Sect, the team celebrated with dumpling hotpot and spicy victory rice. Bai Xue finally cracked a smile. Flame Duck passed out from too much fermented eggnog.
But peace was brief.
A scroll arrived, tied with golden noodle string. It unrolled itself midair, glowing.
"Contestants," it read. "You are hereby invited to the Heavenly Culinary Carnival—the most prestigious, ridiculous, and utterly dangerous food tournament in the world. Bring your best dish—and your funeral arrangements."
Lin Feng squinted. "Did that scroll just threaten us?"
Master Zhou chuckled. "It's an honor. And also a trap. Probably both."
Flame Duck sat up, dazed. "Did someone say carnival? I'm bringing deep-fried everything.