Morning sunlight spilled through the mountain mists, turning the tiled rooftops of the Ironbone Sect into sheets of golden fire. The sect felt different these days. Disciples still trained with swords and staffs, but between the clang of steel and the crack of qi techniques, there drifted new sounds: the rhythmic chop of cleavers, the hiss of boiling oil, and the soft thud of mortar pestles grinding spices.
And at the center of it all stood Lin Tian, sleeves rolled up, cleaver flashing like a sword under the beams of the old kitchen.
His blade moved so swiftly that each slice of spirit radish fell away as thin as silk. The vegetable's pale green scent mixed with star anise, mountain pepper, and the lingering sweetness of plum blossoms wafted through the window. Bai Yue hovered nearby, eyes wide, clutching a battered notepad where he scribbled furiously.
"Senior Lin!" Bai Yue squeaked. "At this rate, you'll make the whole sect addicted to your cooking. They're going to forget how to cultivate properly!"
Lin Tian gave a low laugh, never pausing his cuts. "Nonsense. A strong body needs proper fuel. Besides, have you tasted the mess hall's porridge lately?"
Bai Yue shuddered. "I'd rather eat bricks."
The last of the radish fell away. Lin Tian scooped it into a broad iron wok already sizzling with hot oil and ginger. The scent blossomed immediately into a fragrance so savory and sharp that Bai Yue leaned forward, eyes half-lidded.
"Is that… a new recipe?" Bai Yue murmured.
Lin Tian smirked faintly. "A variation on lotus stir-fry. Spirit radish absorbs spiritual energy better if you slice it this thin. Helps stabilize qi flow."
Bai Yue scribbled again, almost tearing the page. "Stabilize… qi… flow… Got it!"
Before Lin Tian could say more, the kitchen door slammed open, nearly flying off its hinges. A young woman stood framed in the doorway, robes of snow-white silk edged in icy blue, her presence so sharp it made Bai Yue yelp and stumble back into a basket of garlic bulbs.
"You're Lin Tian," she said, in a tone so cool it might have frozen steam.
Lin Tian lowered his spatula. "That's me."
"I'm Mu Qing from East Peak Pavilion. My master sent me to confirm the rumors."
Lin Tian arched an eyebrow. "Rumors?"
"The Ironbone Sect has acquired a chef who can refine demonic flesh into medicine. That your dishes can stabilize cultivation bottlenecks. That you've turned cooking into an art capable of rivaling pill alchemy."
Her clear eyes swept over him from head to toe, like a general inspecting a foot soldier. "…I expected someone taller."
Lin Tian rolled his eyes. "I expected guests to knock."
Bai Yue gasped. "Senior Lin—!"
But Mu Qing ignored him. "I will test your skill. If your food matches the rumors, East Peak Pavilion may consider an alliance. Or a challenge."
"Depending on what?" Lin Tian asked.
"Whether you insult our palate."
Lin Tian gave her a long, appraising look, then reached for a fresh bunch of herbs. "Then you'd better sit down."
Mu Qing folded her arms and took a seat at the battered wooden table. Bai Yue peered over a basket of mushrooms, eyes darting between the two like a startled rabbit.
Lin Tian set to work. He moved with the focused energy of a swordsman in a duel, cleaver carving ingredients into perfect slivers. He sliced spirit radish so fine that the pieces curled into delicate scrolls. He ground wild plum into a vivid purple paste, blended it with ground frostleaf, and folded in lotus pollen until the mixture shimmered faintly under the kitchen lamps. Into the wok, he poured hot oil, garlic, and a pinch of mountain pepper, the scent blooming like fireworks.
At last, he added a sliver of purified demonic flesh, flash-seared with spirit wine so the outer edges caramelized while the center remained tender. A flick of icefruit essence cooled the sizzling oil, leaving tiny frost crystals that danced across the surface.
He plated the dish with careful precision: a mound of luminous radish petals encircling the darker core of demonic flesh like a snow lotus blooming on a stormy peak.
"Try it," he said.
Mu Qing lifted her chopsticks and tasted a small bite. She chewed slowly. Then she closed her eyes. The entire kitchen seemed to hush, as though afraid to breathe.
Bai Yue leaned forward, holding his breath.
At last, Mu Qing opened her eyes. "…My breath is smoother. My thoughts are clearer. And it tastes…" She paused, searching for the words. "…like snow falling on fire."
Bai Yue let out a squeal. "Senior Lin she likes it!"
Lin Tian wiped his cleaver clean. "Do I pass your test?"
Mu Qing rose from her seat, folding her sleeves. "You do. But my master won't accept mere words. Expect another visit. Soon."
She turned to go, then paused at the door. "…Do you offer apprenticeships?"
Lin Tian blinked. "You're interested?"
"I never forget a good taste," she said, and slipped away like frost melting under moonlight.
Bai Yue scurried up beside Lin Tian, eyes sparkling. "Senior Lin… does this mean you might teach disciples from another sect?"
Lin Tian exhaled slowly, staring at the door where Mu Qing had vanished. "It means things are going to get complicated."
After Mu Qing left, Lin Tian stood in silence, listening to the wind sigh through the kitchen rafters. For a brief moment, the world felt balanced, like the hush between a blade's swing and the sound of it striking true. But peace never lasted long in the cultivation world.
Bai Yue was still babbling. "Senior Lin, do you think East Peak Pavilion will want to join forces with us? What if they're just trying to steal your recipes? Or kidnap you so you can cook for them forever? Or—or—"
Lin Tian flicked a small piece of radish at his forehead. "Stop overthinking."
Bai Yue rubbed his brow and sighed. "But you have to admit, Senior Lin… It's like the whole cultivation world's looking your way now. Not for swords or pills—but for your food."
Lin Tian fell quiet, staring at the iron wok cooling on the stove. He could still feel the lingering tremor of demonic energy under his fingertips. A chef in a world of martial power, making dishes so potent they could shift alliances and heal wounded cultivators—that thought both thrilled and unsettled him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud cough exploded from the courtyard.
"Lin Tian!" boomed a familiar voice.
Bai Yue's eyes went wide. "Oh no. He's back."
And in strode Elder Han, his black robes fluttering, beard swaying as he moved like a war general into the kitchen.
"There you are," Elder Han barked. "Message from the Crimson River Sect. They're arriving at dusk. They've heard about your cooking, and they want to sample it themselves."
Lin Tian wiped his cleaver clean with deliberate calm. "So… this is diplomacy now."
"It's politics," Han snapped. "If you impress them, they might trade cultivation resources with us. If you fail, they'll spread rumors that the Ironbone Sect's only skill is boiling porridge. And they're led by Hu Yan, that mountain of a man who eats ghost peppers for fun."
Bai Yue gulped. "Hu Yan? The one who used to wrestle spirit tigers in an arena?"
"The same," Han said grimly. "And he wants something 'that'll burn his soul and clean out his stomach.' His words. Not mine."
Lin Tian cracked his knuckles. "So be it."
As the sun set, the outer disciples gathered around the path to the main hall, eager for a glimpse of the visitors. Soon, a column of crimson-robed cultivators arrived, led by a man whose presence seemed to swallow the courtyard.
Hu Yan was enormous. His shoulders looked wide enough to carry an entire ox cart. A tiger tattoo wound across his bare arm, and his laughter boomed like thunder.
"Is this the famous chef?" Hu Yan roared, slapping Lin Tian on the back so hard the impact rattled his bones. "You don't look like much!"
Lin Tian rubbed his shoulder and met Hu Yan's grin. "Neither do you. Yet here we are."
Hu Yan threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. "Good answer! Make me something hot enough to melt my dantian!"
Bai Yue whimpered behind Lin Tian. "Please don't melt his dantian, Senior Lin…"
Lin Tian rolled his sleeves higher and turned toward the kitchen. "I'll see what I can do."
Inside, the crimson-robed cultivators fanned out around the great hall's long wooden tables. The air vibrated with tension and curiosity as Lin Tian lit the flames beneath his largest wok.
He worked quickly, selecting mountain peppers gleaming scarlet under the lanterns. He split them open, scraped out the seeds, and crushed them into paste, releasing an aroma so fiery that several outer disciples staggered backward, clutching their throats.
Bai Yue's voice squeaked. "It smells like weaponized fire qi…"
Lin Tian moved on, slicing slivers of demon flesh until each piece glistened with a faint dark sheen. Into the wok went garlic, ginger, and the fiery pepper paste, sizzling so violently that golden sparks leapt from the pan.
Hu Yan watched from the doorway, practically drooling. "More heat!" he bellowed. "I want my soul to sweat!"
Lin Tian grunted. "Careful what you wish for."
He poured a splash of spirit wine into the wok, sending flames roaring high enough to lick the wooden beams overhead. The room filled with a scent so complex that disciples couldn't decide whether to run away or beg for a taste.
Finally, as the sizzling reached its peak, Lin Tian flicked his wrist and poured in a thin stream of icefruit essence. The flames hissed down instantly, steam blossoming in a plume of cool, glimmering mist. Tiny frost patterns crawled over the table's surface, leaving everyone staring in wonder.
Lin Tian scooped the dish into a clay bowl. The sauce shimmered bright crimson, with pale streaks of icy silver swirling through it. He set it before Hu Yan, who grabbed his chopsticks like twin daggers and plunged them into the bowl.
He devoured a huge mouthful. The moment the flavors hit his tongue, he froze. His eyes widened. His face turned red, then pale, then red again. Frost began puffing from his nostrils like steam from a spirit forge.
Everyone held their breath.
Then Hu Yan slammed the table with both fists, rattling every cup and plate in the hall.
"BY THE ANCESTORS!" he howled. "It's like drinking molten lava while standing naked in a snowstorm! My meridians feel… scrubbed clean!"
Bai Yue let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a cheer. "He's… alive…"
Lin Tian folded his arms and raised a brow. "That's the desired effect, I presume?"
Hu Yan wiped sweat from his brow and laughed so loud it shook the walls. "Little chef, you've earned my respect! If Ironbone ever calls for help, Crimson River will answer!"
Elder Han looked profoundly relieved. Elder Lu, lingering at the side of the room, tried to look aloof but eventually muttered, "…May I have a taste?"
Lin Tian served him a small portion. Elder Lu's lips twitched upward the instant the spicy heat and icy chill flooded through his qi channels. "Heavens above… I can feel my old injuries easing…"
Hu Yan roared with laughter again and slapped Elder Lu so hard on the back that the old man nearly toppled over. "Told you, Elder Lu! This kid's food is better than half the alchemists in the empire!"
And for a moment, the entire hall was filled not with sect rivalry or suspicion, but with laughter, sizzling steam, and the intoxicating scent of spice and possibility.
.....
Once the feast ended, the Crimson River cultivators departed with satisfied bellies, Hu Yan still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as he promised to send gifts from his sect's spice caravans. The Ironbone Sect disciples remained buzzing for hours afterward, unable to stop talking about how Lin Tian's dish had made a man built like a spirit ox sweat frost from his nostrils.
Lin Tian stood beside the kitchen doorway, rolling his sore shoulder where Hu Yan had slapped him for the fifth time. Bai Yue hovered anxiously, wringing his hands.
"Senior Lin… I think the entire cultivation world is going to show up at our gates. What if more sects want your cooking? What if they all want different flavors? Or start bidding wars for your recipes?"
Lin Tian chuckled under his breath. "Then we'll open a restaurant. 'Heavenly Chef Pavilion.' Charging double for demonic beast specials."
Bai Yue's jaw dropped. "You're joking… right?"
Lin Tian didn't answer. Instead, he stepped back into the kitchen, wiping the counters and washing his cleaver under the water gourd spout. The kitchen felt like his true sect hall. No high towers, no ornate jade walls—just wood, iron, and the rhythm of chopping and sizzling.
But even as he cleaned, shadows gathered in the corners of his mind. The world of cultivation was ruthless. Fame could be as deadly as poison. He knew that from the eyes he'd seen watching him lately—some curious, some calculating.
That thought proved prophetic the next morning, when Elder Han appeared at his kitchen door again, clutching a folded letter.
"Another guest," Han announced grimly. "From the Violet Cloud Sect."
Lin Tian raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of them."
"They're small, but ambitious. Always sniffing around for new techniques to make themselves relevant. Their envoy wants to meet you privately."
Lin Tian exhaled. "This is starting to feel less like cooking and more like negotiating peace treaties."
Han grunted. "Welcome to sect politics."
Shortly before noon, a slender man in violet robes entered the kitchen, moving with the silent glide of a cat. His hair fell to his waist, tied with a silver cord. His eyes were sharp, and his smile never quite touched them.
"Lin Tian, is it?" he said, folding his hands in his sleeves. "I am Jin Lian, representative of Violet Cloud Sect. My sect has taken great interest in your… culinary innovations."
Lin Tian set aside his chopping knife and leaned on the counter. "I'm guessing you didn't come for a lunch reservation."
Jin Lian laughed softly. "So direct. I admire that. Tell me—would you be willing to sell us exclusive rights to your recipes? We would compensate you generously. Spirit stones, rare herbs, cultivation manuals… name your price."
Bai Yue's jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit the counter. "Senior Lin—they're trying to buy you out!"
Lin Tian's eyes narrowed. "And if I refuse?"
Jin Lian gave a small, elegant shrug. "Then, Violet Cloud Sect will regretfully have to compete for your secrets by other means. Perhaps… less polite means."
A silence fell in the kitchen. Even the bubbling soup seemed to hush. Bai Yue grabbed Lin Tian's sleeve, trembling.
Lin Tian lifted his chin. "Tell your sect this: my food is not for sale. And anyone who tries to steal my recipes will taste my knife before my cooking."
Jin Lian's smile faltered, just slightly. "A pity. I hoped you'd be reasonable." He turned and swept from the kitchen without another word, his violet robes rippling behind him.
Bai Yue groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Senior Lin… we're going to die, aren't we?"
Lin Tian sheathed his cleaver and calmly returned to his chopping board. "We're going to cook. And train."
Over the following days, tension rose in the Ironbone Sect like steam building under a sealed pot. Disciples whispered about spies in the mountains. Elder Han doubled the night patrols. Shan Long, ever the opportunist, swaggered around the sect, loudly warning that Lin Tian's "fancy dishes" were attracting enemies who might bring ruin down on everyone's heads.
Lin Tian ignored him. He buried himself in refining new recipes. Each day, he experimented with small portions of demonic flesh, studying how different spices and techniques could suppress its violent qi. He tried steaming thin slices in bamboo baskets with lotus seeds, stir-frying them with bitterroot paste, even marinating them in spirit wine for three days until the flesh turned translucent and jelly-like. Each success added a tiny piece to his understanding of how food could harmonize with cultivation.
One afternoon, Bai Yue wandered into the kitchen to find Lin Tian staring at his cleaver under the sunlight, running a thumb along the blade's worn steel.
"Senior Lin… are you not afraid?" Bai Yue asked.
Lin Tian paused. Then he smiled faintly. "I used to work eighteen-hour shifts in a kitchen where angry rich people threw plates at my head if their sauce was too salty. Compared to that… sect politics are just another kind of heat in the pan."
Bai Yue blinked. "But those people couldn't kill you with a finger tap!"
Lin Tian snorted. "They tried. Emotionally."
By the fifth day, Elder Han summoned Lin Tian to the main hall.
"I'm sending you to the city," Han declared. "There's a trade summit in Whitefog City. Sect leaders from all over the region will attend. If we're going to survive this storm, we need allies. And right now, your cooking is our best chance to impress them."
Bai Yue gasped. "We're… going outside? To the city? But what if assassins are waiting for Senior Lin?"
Han waved a hand. "I'll send guards. And Elder Lu will accompany you. He's grumpy, but he's reliable."
Lin Tian crossed his arms. "What do you want me to cook there?"
"Anything that makes the other sects sit up and beg for more," Han said. "And preferably something that proves we're not just backwater sword-swingers anymore."
Lin Tian exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the entire sect settling onto his shoulders. "Then I'll need new ingredients."
Han grinned, teeth glinting. "That's why we're sending you to the city. Go buy whatever you want. Just… don't bankrupt us."
Bai Yue clapped his hands together in excitement. "Senior Lin, are we going shopping for ingredients? In a big city?"
Lin Tian glanced at him with a faintly pained look. "Yes. Try not to cause an international incident."
And so, as dawn spilled gold over the mountain peaks, Lin Tian found himself packing his cleaver, a pouch of spirit stones, and a stack of new recipes into a travel pack, preparing to descend the mountain for Whitefog City. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was heading toward a forge-hot crucible where food and politics would mix into something far more dangerous than anything he'd faced in his old mortal kitchens. But he squared his shoulders all the same.
After all, he reminded himself, the sharpest knife is forged in the hottest flame.
...
The morning air on the mountain felt crisp as chilled silk as Lin Tian made his way down the winding path from the Ironbone Sect gates. Bai Yue trotted at his heels, carrying a bundle of cooking tools tied in a bright red cloth, while Elder Lu followed behind, muttering under his breath about how none of this was proper sect business.
"Trade summits," Elder Lu groused, jabbing his walking staff into the earth. "Pah! We used to solve disputes with duels and sword fights, not… menus and dinner parties."
Lin Tian chuckled. "Times change, Elder. Even cultivators have to eat."
Bai Yue spun in a circle as they walked, gawking at the way the sunlight spilled across distant ridges and the shimmering cloud seas far below. "Senior Lin, do you think there'll be giant markets in the city? With spices from the Western Wastes? Or spirit beasts we've never seen?"
"I'm hoping for a proper fish market," Lin Tian said. "Something better than the dried salted carp we've got on the mountain."
Elder Lu grumbled. "I'm hoping there's strong tea and fewer fools."
Their path twisted down steep granite steps, through pine forests where spirit birds flitted like falling petals. Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing the gleaming white walls of Whitefog City nestled in the valley below.
It was a sprawling place, surrounded by towering ramparts of marble and jade, banners streaming in the breeze, each one marked with a different sect's crest. At the massive gate, a queue of cultivators, merchants, and spirit beast caravans stretched for dozens of paces.
Bai Yue's eyes went wide as saucers. "So many people…"
Lin Tian couldn't help staring either. His previous life had taught him cities were crowded, chaotic places, but there was nothing quite like a cultivation hub in full festival mode. Vendors shouted prices for spirit grains and beast hides. Children ran underfoot carrying bundles of incense. Cultivators in bright robes stood in clumps, sniffing disdainfully at one another's sect insignia.
As they approached the gate, two guards stepped forward, clad in lacquered armor embossed with cloud motifs.
"State your names and sect affiliation," one barked.
Elder Lu pushed Bai Yue forward. "Speak, boy. You're the loud one."
Bai Yue squeaked. "Ironbone Sect! We're… uh… here for the trade summit. And Senior Lin Tian is our… our…"
Lin Tian finished for him. "Chef."
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Chef?"
Elder Lu cleared his throat. "He's our sect's secret weapon. Don't question it."
The guards glanced at one another, shrugged, and waved them through.
Inside the city, the streets glowed under rows of lanterns shaped like spirit blossoms, each flickering with gentle pale fire. Music drifted from tea houses. The scent of roasting chestnuts mingled with sandalwood incense and the sharp tang of spirit wines poured from crimson bottles.
Bai Yue spun again. "Senior Lin, look! They have spirit fruit candy!"
"Don't buy anything until we check prices," Lin Tian said. "Or we'll get fleeced worse than a spirit sheep."
Elder Lu snorted. "Good luck with that. The prices here rise faster than qi in a bottleneck."
They passed a stall where a merchant flipped strips of marinated spirit beast meat on a sizzling copper grill. Lin Tian paused, eyes narrowing as he sniffed the steam.
"Too much salt," he murmured. "And the meat's overcooked."
Bai Yue stared at him. "How can you tell from ten paces away?"
Lin Tian shrugged. "Habit."
The Whitefog City summit was held in the towering Golden Lotus Hall, a building so large it seemed to defy gravity. Its roofs curved like petals, gilded with sun-gold tiles that glittered under the midday sky. Inside, tables were laid out in perfect rows, each draped in scarlet silk. Dozens of sect leaders and envoys were already gathering, talking in low voices.
A hush fell as Lin Tian entered, flanked by Elder Lu and Bai Yue. Heads turned.
"There he is," someone murmured. "The chef who tamed demonic flesh."
"That's the one who made the Crimson River Sect's brute cry frost tears," said another.
Lin Tian exhaled, steadying himself. He hadn't worn fancy robes, only his usual dark tunic and sleeves rolled back from his forearms. He felt eyes lingering on his hands, as though searching for some mystical glow.
Elder Han was waiting at the front, looking immensely pleased. "There you are. Good. The opening ceremony starts soon. And then… they'll expect a demonstration."
Bai Yue nearly choked. "A demonstration?! Here? In front of all these sect leaders?"
Han gave Lin Tian a meaningful look. "Think of it as a duel. But with woks."
A row of chefs from other sects were already setting up portable stoves, chopping boards, and small cauldrons. Some wore elaborate hats embroidered with their sect sigils. One fellow even had spirit butterflies pinned in his hair, fluttering as he diced mushrooms.
Lin Tian took his spot at an empty station. He unpacked his cleaver, a small array of spices, and a few jars of spirit oil. Around him, curious onlookers whispered.
A voice rang out across the hall. "Today's theme… is creativity! Each chef will create a dish using this mystery ingredient!"
An attendant strode forward, holding up a large woven basket. When he flipped back the lid, gasps echoed around the hall. Inside writhed a pile of small silver-scaled eels, each one hissing faintly, crackling with tiny sparks of lightning.
"Spirit Thunder Eels," the attendant announced. "Caught in the Silverstorm Lake. Extremely volatile. Good luck."
Bai Yue went pale. "Senior Lin… those things shock people even after they're dead…"
Lin Tian's eyes glinted. He reached for his cleaver. "Then let's teach them how to respect a knife."