There was a cauldron. Smoke puffed out beautifully from its half-opened lid, curling around a thousand blinking stars, up through the shoulders of a faceless woman. She stood behind the cauldron. A black cape spilled down her shoulders, its edges dancing lazily in outer space. Ladle in her hand, she stirred the mixture, shoulders towering high over a big ball of molten rock, its surface barely seen under the giant cauldron exploding with bright flames.
Is that a cauldron placed on top of a sun?
Then she stopped. Stars lost their glint, burning flames wavering as though they were afraid, as the woman reached with one hand to a distant star. Her fingers clutched the trembling celestial body as though it were a pebble, plucked it from its roots, and tossed it into the cauldron.
The mixture hissed at the touch of it.
“Dao is the path that can’t be spoken of with mere words. It lies within one’s heart, belonging only to one’s inner core. It is the foundation of one’s being, the true purpose of one’s existence.”
An ethereal voice dinned inside Lei’s mind, soothing like a spring breeze. He felt it close in his arms, heard it beating inside his chest, but his body was nowhere in sight. Yet it was speaking to him, this voice.
The figure stirred the cauldron, leaving the skies with one less star. They wouldn’t miss it, Lei thought; there were thousands of them dotting the endless space.
It was beyond understanding. Unrealistic. He felt like a dream, a blink away from existing, but then he felt he was everywhere at once, flowing with the smoke, dripping down the edge of the cauldron’s lid, shivering senselessly like those stars that lost their glint.
“No path is simple. No path is unimportant. Even a glimmer of light can cleave apart the darkness; even a candle’s flame can light the path for eyes to see. To walk upon this path, one must take the first step.”
A fire blazed, this one burning white. Within the chest of the towering woman it roared, spreading warmth about the cosmos—felt like a mother’s touch. So welcoming, yet brimmed with a power mighty enough to make the molten rock’s flames seem like they were nothing more than tiny sparks.
The scene changed, and Lei found himself perched over on the woman’s right shoulder, staring down at the cauldron, at the boiling mixture of a thousand colors. It was a mess, the mixture was, but it did seem to have an order of its own, as though the twisting colors were all splashed out with purpose. Grains sparkled amongst them, and one of them flashed blue like a sapphire.
Earth? Is this our galaxy?
A long sigh escaped through the lips of the giant woman, turning into a gale that sent the stars hurtling about the space and made the burning suns shake like leaves. Before long she was holding the lid, fingers trembling as she closed it shut over the mixture, cutting short the curling waves of the smoke.
But then, her fingers stopped, leaving a sliver of opening at the edge of the cauldron. A tiny ball broke free from the fire burning within her chest, dancing across the lid, hopping like a little child until it found the opening and jumped straight into it.
The cauldron started shaking. Thousands of lights blared into existence, flashing before Lei’s eyes. Too bright. Too alive. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was a different shade of color in his vision, a blur of cosmic proportions.
Lei closed his eyes shut. It hurt just looking at that scene. He felt an insistent tug at his soul, a call he couldn’t refuse. Curious, he allowed this call to tow him through the flashing lights. Even if he wanted, there was no way he could resist this ethereal pulse.
His body felt light as a feather caught in a hurricane, being dragged toward somewhere... far away. The lights grew dim around his lids, then dimmer still until only a single, gentle warmth was left.
Something snapped.
“Open your eyes, Junior Brother.”
Lei obliged, cracking his lids open. It took him a moment to get used to the sunlight flashing into his eyes. A moment that passed right away and left him facing a man who sat cross-legged before him.
There was a weight in the way he carried himself, a contemptuous crack to his lips, and a depth so dark that Lei found himself being sucked into those black eyes. The man wore his gray hair loose around his shoulders, his black robe stark against the gray strands, stretched tight by a belly bulging out from underneath.
“Quite the entrance, don’t you think?” he said, his voice sounding a touch normal but still echoing across the wide plain they sat in, and he nodded as he glanced at Lei. “That robe suits you. I daresay you were born to don the colors of the Maiden’s Sect. It’s been too long since we’ve had a new face in our ranks.”
Lei blinked at the man.
“Oh, my manners!” The man slapped his thigh and barked out a laugh, the fat under his chin wriggling slightly. “Can’t blame me, though. This is my first time. Our Senior Brother used to admit the new disciples. It’s fair to say he’s been busy as of late, hence he passed the mantle to me. The name is Wang Hai. You can call me Senior Brother Wang.”
“Senior Brother Wang?”
“Good, good, good!” Wang Hai nodded enthusiastically. “Your ears still work. That’s good news. You see, soul is a mysterious thing, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. Best not to try and get too clever with it. Dangerous stuff.”
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Lei’s head hurt from trying to understand what was happening. He was alone with this man in a wide plain, one that stretched as far as he could see and coated with nothing but a layer of grass. Other than this strange man’s voice, everything around him was dead silent.
He looked at his hands. The sleeves of the strange robe dangled from his wrists, the color a pristine black that seemed to be sucking the light shining from the empty skies. It was soft to touch. A simple patch had been sewn into the left side of its chest, depicting a burning sphere with a cauldron over it, just like the scene he’d witnessed before opening his eyes here.
“I’ve heard a voice,” Lei muttered absently. “She called me disciple.”
“Of course you did,” Wang Hai nodded knowingly. “Daomother has a way with words, hasn’t she? I’m especially fond of the part where she talks about one’s inner heart. There’s wisdom in those lines. Wisdom too deep for me to comprehend. Don’t let it scare you. She might be far away, but I’m sure she’s watching us still.”
“Far away?”
“With others, but enough of that now. We don’t have much time. Let us focus on you,” Wang Hai said, looking into Lei’s face. “Tell me how it is. I want to know everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the System!” Wang Hai said eagerly. “How is it? The others mentioned the skills it grants you that can change the way you cook. A door to a new world, they had said. Does it have new dishes? New ingredients from beyond the Three Realms? Can you actually breathe spiritual energy into the food with it? There’s the other energy, though. Mana… It shouldn’t be easy to balance those two. It burns, you know? Too dangerous!”
Lei’s chest tightened as the man kept blabbing on. It looked like he’d waited years for the opportunity to spout all his questions into his face—questions that Lei didn’t know how to answer.
So he didn’t. Instead, he asked one of his own.
“Do you know about the System?” he said, leaning closer to Wang Hai. “I’m not the only one who has it, then… Just like I thought. But what’s the purpose of it? Why was I given a System? I’m a nobody, a mere chef from Earth—”
“I don’t know much,” Wang Hai said with a shake of his head. “But I know that there are ninety-nine of you. One for each big world.”
Thunder growled all of a sudden.
Wang Hai flinched back.
“Uh… I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered, looking up at the sky. It had been empty, but now a single storm cloud hung low in the middle of it, brimming with flashing lights. Lei had no idea how or when it appeared.
“The balance is crucial,” Wang Hai muttered. “It’s not to be taken lightly. Still, what’s a few tribulation clouds when I have the chance to have a chat with my Junior Brother here! Bah!”
“Tribulation clouds?” Lei narrowed his eyes at the cloud.
“These are turbulent times, Junior Brother. The cycle continues,” Wang Hai said. He raised a hand and clenched his fist as his eyes clouded. “But I’m afraid this time it’s different. I can’t remember the number of Cracks we’ve closed in these past couple of chaos cycles, but this one has been rather stubborn.”
“Crack… I know that word,” Lei said solemnly. “It’s those rotten bastards, right? They’re from a different world.”
Wang Hai arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re not wrong, but not completely right either. Their origin—”
The ground underneath Lei’s feet shook, and the thunder growled deep in the sky. The gentle light flickered unevenly.
“Fine! I won’t discuss it further,” Wang Hai grumbled as he regarded the sky before turning to Lei. “See what I’m dealing with? You have to forgive this Senior Brother of yours, but we should move on with the ritual now.”
He kept sneaking glances at that cloud as he continued. “Just know that everything happens for a reason. Karma and fate. Nothing’s happenstance in the Three Realms.”
“So, there’s a reason why I was chosen?”
“Why, of course!” Wang Hai said. “There’s always a reason why Daomother chooses her new disciples. The one before you was a strange fellow. The one before that had been at least courteous enough to bow before Senior Brother Chen, but he lacked that spark.”
“Spark?”
“Yeah, spark. Something unique. Just like those threads behind you.”
Lei jerked back and looked around himself, but other than the grass field he saw nothing. Certainly not the threads the man was talking about.
“I see nothing.”
“You can’t actually see the karma threads without first crossing the Celestial line.” Wang Hai shook his head. “But from how thick they are, I can say that you’ve made quite the impression with more than a few people. That means you’re a good cook. You should be proud of that.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Lei pinched the bridge of his nose before scowling at him. “Now, can you please tell me what the hell is going on here?”
“Look, Junior Brother Lei, it’s too complicated a matter to discuss here, and we are under strict surveillance, which makes it rather difficult for me to disclose some things to you.”
Lightning crackled in the sky. Another cloud had joined the first one, and now the two of them seemed almost impatient.
“So I will say nothing!” Wang Hai nearly screamed those words as he frowned at the clouds. He then sighed loudly. “But since you’re here, know this. We might be fellow disciples of the Daomother, but we belong to different lines. Your line is tasked with a mission that concerns the fate of your world, and therefore the Three Realms as a whole.”
“But—”
“If you seek answers, then you shall get them only by proving your worth,” Wang Hai cut him off sharply, his face solemn. “Right now, you’ve only earned the right to undergo the ritual that’ll mark you as a disciple of the Maiden’s Sect—the cook’s fire, as we call it.”
Wang Hai rose to his feet and stretched his hand out to the sky. There, the two storm clouds parted to reveal the little dot spreading warmth all over the field.
As if responding to his summons, the glowing orb descended, the storm clouds rumbling and crackling, casting flickers of lightning, but the small dot remained steady, unfazed, its warmth growing stronger ever so slowly.
When the orb finally rested above his open palm, Wang Hai nodded with satisfaction and glanced at Lei.
“This,” he said, his voice low but strict, “is the Inner Flame. We all share it. It is the essence of our path, a gift from the Yellow Maiden herself. Treat it with respect, for it is as delicate as it is powerful.”
Lei could only stare, entranced by the vibrant warmth radiating from the flame. Its light shifted with each heartbeat, casting a glow in shades of deep gold, crimson, and pale blue, like the colors of a sunset caught in a single breath.
Wang Hai held it out toward him. “Take it,” he urged as the clouds started closing in on them. “From henceforth, you shall use your heart’s flame for your dishes. It will be your true strength against the demons.”
Lei swallowed, a faint twinge of apprehension flaring within him. But he felt the pulsing warmth beckoning, resonating with something inside him that he hadn’t known existed. Slowly, he extended his hand. The flame reacted immediately, darting from Wang Hai’s palm and hovering in the air before him.
For a moment, it flickered in place, as if it were studying him. Then, with an almost playful bounce, it drifted closer, hovering just in front of his chest. Lei braced himself, expecting pain, fire, anything that might scorch him from the inside out. But instead, he felt an intense warmth that melted into something gentle, comforting.
The flame fluttered once more, then surged forward and burrowed into his chest.
Lei gasped. It felt like his whole body was on fire.
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