The arena was a whirlwind of clattering woks, shouts, and the crackling of spirit flames.

The heat of his wok kissed Fatty Wu’s face, a familiar embrace. The rhythmic clang of his cleaver against the chopping block was a steady beat against the chaotic symphony of the arena. Around him, competitors darted from station to station, their movements a frantic blur of culinary desperation.

He quickly glanced around the arena. One competitor, his face a mask of concentration, was attempting to conjure a flame beneath his wok, but his temperature control was shaky, and the resulting burst of fire singed his eyebrows, drawing snickers from the crowd.

Turning his attention back to his own station, his gaze settled on the neatly arranged ingredients before him – a culinary arsenal waiting to be unleashed. "Let's start with something light, something refreshing—an appetizer to awaken the palate."

“First, the Azurefin Carp,” Fatty Wu murmured, carefully selecting a plump, glistening specimen from a bowl of icy water. The fish, barely larger than his palm, glowed faintly blue, its scales shimmering like captured starlight. “Such delicate flavors, such potent Qi. The key is to enhance, not overpower.”

He gently patted the carp dry with a silk cloth, his movements precise, almost reverent. “A touch of sesame oil, a sprinkle of sea salt, a whisper of ginger… just enough to awaken the spirit within.”

He placed the seasoned carp into a bamboo steamer, its delicate aroma mingling with the rising steam, creating a fragrant mist that swirled around him. “Let the steam caress its flesh, infusing it with the essence of the heavens.”

While the carp steamed, Fatty Wu’s attention shifted to the Cloudroot, a knobby, earth-toned tuber. He sliced it thinly, his knife moving with practiced ease. “Cloudroot—so humble in appearance, yet so versatile. Its texture, light and fluffy, like a cloud, absorbs flavors like a sponge, and amplifies the dish’s earth qi. Perfect for grounding the carp’s airy essence.”

He tossed the sliced Cloudroot into a wok with a drizzle of spirit-infused oil, the heat coaxing its earthy aroma, and added a pinch of crushed thunder peppercorns, their sharp, almost electric scent filling the air.

“Thunder peppercorns—a touch of spice, a spark of excitement. They enhance the carp’s subtle Qi, adding a hint of… electrifying surprise.”

He plated the steamed Azurefin Carp, carefully arranging the Cloudroot and peppercorn garnish around its shimmering blue form. The dish was a delicate balance of flavors and textures, a harmonious blend of earth and water Qi that danced on the palate.

He glanced towards the judges' table and saw Master Yu approaching. A bead of sweat trickled down Fatty Wu's brow. "This is it," he thought. "The moment of truth." Master Yu approached the table. His eyes moved like a hawk, focused on every aspect.

"Azurefin Carp with Cloudroot and Thunder Peppercorn Garnish," he said. He leaned in closer as if he were about to savor the essence of the dish and smiled thinly. "Elegant presentation." He picked up a small piece of the fish, placing it into his mouth. The hawk-like gaze settled on Fatty Wu.

He looked at Fatty Wu as he took a long moment. “The fish is cooked to perfection,” he said, his voice precise, echoing the dish itself. “And the Cloudroot…” he paused, savoring the taste, his brow furrowing slightly, “it… it resonates with a subtle earth Qi that complements the carp’s delicate water essence.”

“Indeed,” Elder Fang chimed in, nodding approvingly. “The thunder peppercorns add a touch of… unexpected vibrancy.” She closed her eyes, as if the act itself might reveal the ingredients used.

“Though,” she said. “I’m missing something… something to balance the sweetness of the Cloudroot. Perhaps something more savory? Something bolder?” Her brow furrowed.

Fatty Wu nodded respectfully. “Thank you for your insights, honored judges,” he said, his fingers clutching at the hem of his apron. "I assure you, the appetizer is merely the beginning."

Fatty Wu adjusted his stance, his fingers brushing over the edge of the bamboo steamer, his eyes darted towards the judges. He straightened his back, hands steadying as he reached for the next ingredient,

Across the arena, a fire cultivator’s attempt at a flambéed spirit beast skewer went horribly wrong. An uncontrolled burst of flame engulfed their station, sending a plume of black smoke and showering embers that set off the nearby stall's protective talismans.

Fatty Wu tightened his grip on the cleaver, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it, his gaze fixed intently on the ingredients, his breath steadying as the faint whispers of the next dish began forming in his mind.

“Now, for the main event,” Fatty Wu muttered. He selected an Ironclaw Crab, its shell as hard as polished jade, its claws snapping menacingly. “Ironclaw Crab, known for its resilient nature. The challenge lies in breaking its defenses. Both the crab's and the eaters.”

He moved swiftly, his hands a blur as he prepared the crab, cracking open its shell, extracting its meat.

"Patience is key. Just like for cultivating a true elixir." Fatty Wu grinned, his fingers stained with juice as he extracted the flesh carefully with small picks.

With a grin, Fatty Wu placed his hands upon the crab.

He let his Qi settle, his mind's eye focused on the delicate threads of power. Though unable to use external Qi yet, he could feel its subtle hum within the crab’s very essence. With each deliberate movement, each rhythmic motion as he cleaned and prepared the ingredients, he drew out the hidden energy—not through brute force, but through subtle guidance

He visualized his palms blazing like those of a fire spirit, his inner Qi roaring like a furnace. Unlike the gentle warmth he often felt when kneading dough or the serene flow when crafting delicate broths, this was raw intensity—untamed, demanding precision. It was as though he was trying to contain a wildfire, where every misstep could burn everything to ash.

He could taste the smoky heat in every cell of his own body as he drew it forth. It wasn’t forced, but a steady coaxing of energy from the very ingredients themselves. A touch too little, and the meal would be bland; a touch too much, and the judges might end up tasting more char than intended.

“Like channels rivers,” he mused, remembering what Jiuwei had said to him not so long ago, and now seeing not her little furry face, but the energy coursing through the world—the Qi pathways twisting through the ingredients, as though they flowed around him like unseen waterways.

He loosened his grip, his movements becoming more fluid as he let the energy flow naturally. The crab’s Qi seemed to respond, almost as if it were alive, merging effortlessly with the seasoning. The subtle warmth of the power shifted under his guidance, forming a balance that felt like the ebb and flow of the ocean's tide—gentle yet unwavering.

"It's as if the ingredients themselves whisper to each other," Fatty Wu murmured to himself. "They don't want to be forced—each element seeks a natural balance, a shared harmony. It's not power that brings them together, it's understanding." He smiled faintly, feeling the energy between his palms and the dish as one.

He stir-fried the crab meat with Black Pearl Rice, its glossy black sheen reflecting the firelight, adding depth to the dish’s earthy aroma. “Black Pearl Rice, a rare delicacy, absorbs the crab’s resiliant energy like a sponge.”

He added a handful of Skyvine Noodles, their translucent strands shimmering like captured starlight.

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“Skyvine Noodles, light and airy, a touch of sweetness—to temper the richness, to keep the energy flowing.”

He seasoned the mix with Fireheart Pepper, its fiery potency a challenge to his culinary skills. "Just a touch," he murmured, "enough to ignite the palate, not incinerate it."

He plated it, carefully arranging the crab meat on a bed of rice and garnishing with noodles, his brow furrowing as he considered its overall balance.

As he finished, Elder Fang and Lu Chen approached his station. Their gazes locked onto his dish. Elder Fang picked up a strand of Skyvine Noodles and examined it. Her lips curved into a smile as she swallowed it slowly, then nodded approvingly. “Excellent texture,” she commented.

Lu Chen scooped a small portion of the Black Pearl Rice onto his plate, his gaze fixed on Fatty Wu. “There's a palpable energy to this dish," he said, as though already certain of its flavors.

As they sampled the dish, their earlier praise gave way to a knowing glance they shared. Their brows furrowed ever so slightly as they nodded to each other.

Lu Chen placed his chopsticks down. “I sense the subtle tang of fire and earth qi, a slight nod towards water.”

Fatty Wu bowed, forcing his expression into calmness as he met Master Lu's gaze without a flicker of doubt. “Your insight is keen, Master Lu,”

A nearby competitor's wok seemed to catch fire for a third time, the now black cauldron smoking like an ancient forge and his attempts at creating some dish—unrecognizable beyond the plumes of ash and embers flying everywhere—now forgotten. Several disciples from his sect began pulling him away, some yelling in exasperation, others coughing loudly.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the square. “And now, for the soup round! A test of a chef’s ability to blend flavors and infuse their creations with spiritual essence! Who will conjure a broth worthy of the heavens?”

Fatty Wu ignored the hubbub, focusing on his own task. “Time to show them what a true culinary cultivator can do,” he thought. He remembered the countless hours spent in the tiny kitchen of the Skyward Lotus Sect, the smell of herbs and spices mingling with his determination to improve.

“Mountain Stream Eels—their flesh infused with the essence of life, pulsing with a deep wood Qi,” Fatty Wu muttered as he cleaned and prepared the eels. Their flesh glistened in the light as his fingers seemed to glide over them, each touch a subtle reverence—a silent acknowledgment of the spirit held within each sinuous form.

He combined the Mountain Stream Eels with a broth of Qi-Infused Tofu, his hands upon the tofu for a moment longer than necessary, drawing out its water Qi. “Tofu, soft yet versatile, a canvas for the eels’ vibrant energy, while the Amber Radishes add a sweet crunch, drawing the power from the heart of the soup and gently pulling any toxins from those who indulge.”

He garnished with Springtide Peas, their fresh green pops of vibrant freshness an invitation to further refinement. “Springtide Peas, a touch of lightness, a burst of energy, perfect for cleansing the palate—drawing the power from within. A culinary mirror for the dish itself.”

The judges, their interest piqued, returned to Fatty Wu’s station. This time, all three stood before him. “Mountain Stream Eel and Qi-Infused Tofu Soup?” Master Yu said. “Interesting choice. Though I’m not sure how the flavors will… harmonize. Especially in such quantities.”

Fatty Wu smiled thinly.

“Please, honored judges,” he gestured towards the steaming bowls. “Taste, and enlighten me with your wisdom.”

Master Yu, Elder Fang, and Lu Chen each took a spoonful.

The soup seemed to wash over them as the broth itself hummed with energy. The judges exchanged glances, their shoulders easing as they took another spoonful, savoring the symphony of flavors, the warm, savory essence settling in their stomachs.

Their eyes widened slightly as each Qi pathway within their bodies vibrated not merely from their cultivation but in response to something beyond their own efforts.

Elder Fang, her eyes half-closed, let out a low hum. “The eel’s wood Qi is… surprisingly potent, and yet,” she turned to Master Yu, “it’s balanced beautifully by the tofu’s water essence. The sweetness, like the moon reflecting upon a placid lake at twilight—it’s a dance of pure balance.”

Lu Chen ran a hand across his chin, his eyes distant as he took another bite, savoring every note. “There’s a deep harmony here,” he began.

“You’ve captured the essence of the ingredients, woven their energies together to create… something almost otherworldly. Truly, a dish worthy of the heavens.” He seemed almost reluctant to stop sipping.

Another ripple of cheers spread across the crowd—a competitor’s poorly conceived culinary creation was now moving across the stone, their dish—a grotesque mix of rare spirit meats and overly pungent herbs—scuttling along the cobblestones like a rogue spirit insect and forcing those nearby to clear a wide berth as it ate whatever offerings it found strewn across the ground.

A gong resonated through the square, signaling the start of the final round.

“And now, for the grand finale!” the announcer’s voice boomed. “The dessert round! A test of a chef’s ability to create a sweet symphony of flavors that transcends the mundane and touches the divine! Who will tempt our judges with a confection worthy of the Celestial Heavens?”

“Black Pearl Rice, its earthy sweetness a canvas for the dessert's Qi,” Fatty Wu murmured, his movements now less about show and more the almost ritualistic care of someone communing with the ingredients. His heart was light and hands were steady as he prepared the final course, as though the energy of his earlier achievements fueled every careful cut, his knife now merely an extension of his own mastery.

He caramelized the Amber Lotus Seeds in a pan, their surfaces shimmering like miniature amber jewels as he drizzled honey from the Celestial Bees over them. As he did so, he envisioned the bees flitting through the fields of the sacred peaks, gathering pollen from spirit-infused blossoms. He remembered stories of how these special lotus flowers opened only under the light of the full moon, their seeds absorbing the essence of lunar energy. He pictured that process, capturing the essence of their Qi into each motion. “A taste of the heavens, cleansed and renewed."

Next, he simmered the Black Pearl Rice into a rich, velvety pudding—its obsidian hue echoing the mysteries of the cosmos, each grain capturing the darkness and light in equal measure. “Black Pearl Rice… the earthy flavors blending with the night sky’s luminescence. A soothing counterpoint to the lotus’ vibrant warmth."

He sprinkled candied Moonlight Cherries, their glistening surfaces like miniature moons scattered across a night sky. “Candied Moonlight Cherries, a burst of celestial flavor, elevating the senses while cleansing spiritual impurities—a dish within a dish.”

He finished with a sprinkle of Windleaf Flakes, a finishing touch that carried more than mere flavor. “Windleaf Flakes, a touch of whimsy, an infusion of Air Qi. Light as a feather, yet a gentle nudge to guide the flavors.”

As he placed the final flourish on his dessert, Fatty Wu stepped back, surveying his creation with a contented sigh.

In the background, a gust of laughter swept through the onlooking crowd. A young woman had accidentally added too much Nightshade Spirit Berries to her dessert, resulting in a hallucinogenic concoction that had her chasing imaginary butterflies.

Elder Fang approached and scooped up a spoonful of pudding, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the balance of colors, textures, and a pleasing wobble. She took a bite, the sweetness exploding on her tongue. Her expression shifted, a flicker of surprise passing across her face as the pudding’s potent energy began to unfold within her.

The world around her seemed to sharpen as if the mists shrouding reality itself were being burned away by the essence of the dessert. The scent of the other dishes were now magnified as well, like waves rolling in from a far shore to wash away all other sensations.

“This...” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “this is something I’ve never tasted before—a mix of moonlight and shadow. You’ve dared to take risks—like using these cherries with herbs like windleaf,” she pointed with a long, slender finger at the faint lines woven with her very own Qi, “which usually clash, but you have used your knowledge of their essences, of their inner fire—and balanced them into something far more potent than a mere dessert.

As the judges deliberated, the tension in the air thickened. Whispers flitted through the crowd, speculations swirling about which competitor would emerge victorious.

“The Azure Mist disciple’s soup was quite impressive, but I think Fatty Wu’s Black Pearl Rice Pudding might just be the winning dish.”

“That Golden Feather chef’s flame-seared pheasant was visually stunning, but it lacked… a certain… depth.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Master Yu cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention, his amplified voice ringing through the marketplace. "Ladies and gentlemen, honored judges and esteemed competitors... after much deliberation, we have reached our verdict.”

He paused dramatically before announcing, “The winner of this year’s cooking competition is… Wu Zhong of the Skyward Lotus Sect!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, Tian Hao and Lin Mei amongst the loudest.

Fatty Wu’s eyes widened as his knees nearly buckled. He steadied himself, gripping the edge of his station, feeling the cool metal beneath his fingertips. He blinked rapidly, swallowing hard before a grin slowly spread across his round face. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He raised his head, his eyes glistening, and allowed himself a moment to savor the crowd's cheers washing over him like a tide.

His dream—recognition not just as a cook but as a culinary master, a craftsman of Qi infused into flavors—had come true, the weeks of planning and refinement and their trip into the black market having been justified far more than he could ever have imagined.

As he stepped forward to receive his prize—a rare set of spirit-infused cooking tools and a spatial pouch filled with even rarer herbs—Fatty Wu bowed deeply to the judges, his round face breaking into a broad grin, his eyes glistening as he bowed deeply to the judges.