Volume 1, Chapter 17: The Young Master’s Leftovers, Bursting a Great World Asunder

Those vast forbidden zones, sealed off for billions of years, were guarded by great formations that, in the face of this aroma, were as fragile as paper, easily pierced through. Deep within the forbidden zones, ancient slumbering beasts were forcibly awakened by this scent.

“What… what is this fragrance?”

“My Dao injury… is actually healing?”

“No! That’s not right! This scent… it’s poisonous! My Dao heart warns me that if I inhale just one more breath, I will be utterly lost, becoming a slave to this aroma!”

“Quick! Strengthen the seal! Spare no cost!”

The entire universe descended into unprecedented chaos and panic, all because of the aroma of a single dish—Mapo Tofu.

Inside the “Kitchen of Fate,” however, the Chef paid no heed to the outside turmoil. With focused expression, he carefully served the freshly cooked Mapo Tofu onto a seemingly ordinary white jade plate.

With the dish completed, he appeared utterly drained, sweat—though nonexistent on his smooth brow—seemed to trickle down.

Without rest, he turned to prepare the second dish—Tomato Scrambled Eggs.

This time, Uncle Fu brought forth a gigantic egg engulfed in seven-colored flames, alongside a fruit that seemed to have condensed from fresh blood itself, radiating boundless vitality.

“The ninth Nirvana egg of the Immortal Phoenix.”

“The ‘Bloodheart Sacred Fruit’ from the primordial realm of Chaos, serving as the ‘tomato.’”

As the Chef lifted the divine phoenix egg, ready to crack it open, a mournful cry of a phoenix echoed faintly from the heavens.

He swiftly struck with his spatula, slicing the Bloodheart Sacred Fruit. Across the myriad heavens and worlds, countless spiritual roots and celestial herbs bowed in reverence towards the Gu family estate.

When the egg yolk met the fruit flesh in the pan, golden and crimson hues intertwined, and an overwhelming aura symbolizing “life” and “origin” once again swept across the cosmos.

This time, there was no oppression—only gentle warmth.

All things revived; dry bones grew flesh; time flowed backward; lost souls reunited.

Countless heroic spirits fallen in the river of history, their undying obsessions soothed by this aura, found peace, transforming into droplets of radiant light that dispersed between heaven and earth.

Ye Qinxian and Ji Ruxue had grown numb.

They only stared blankly as the Chef plated the second dish. The Tomato Scrambled Eggs, golden “egg” cubes wrapped around bright red “tomatoes,” gleamed with vibrant color and restrained fragrance, as if containing the vitality and mysteries of an entire universe.

Uncle Fu carried the two white jade plates and turned to them, saying, “Let’s go; don’t keep the young master waiting.”

The two followed behind like walking corpses.

They knew that from this day forward, their world would never return to what it once was.

When the two dishes were placed on the stone table before Gu Changsheng…

In the courtyard, all strange phenomena ceased, as if nothing had happened.

Only the two dishes quietly emitted steam, looking identical to ordinary home-cooked meals costing a few copper coins in a mortal tavern.

Gu Changsheng squinted slightly, gazing at the dishes on the table.

The presentation was quite appealing.

The Mapo Tofu, a mix of red and white, glistened with oil, garnished with emerald green scallions, making one’s mouth water at the sight. The Tomato Scrambled Eggs, with their rich, golden-red hues and thick sauce, appeared tender and juicy.

Almost no different from the meals he had eaten at small eateries in his former life.

“Hmm, smells decent.”

He nodded and took up a pair of chopsticks handed over by Uncle Fu. The chopsticks were polished from an unknown gentle jade stone, cool to the touch and exceptionally comfortable to hold.

Ye Qinxian and Ji Ruxue held their breath, eyes fixed on the two dishes—or rather, on the “Dao” and “Principle” these dishes represented. To them, these were no longer mere food but the universe’s embryonic form, condensed to its utmost. To comprehend even a sliver of their Dao resonance would bring unimaginable leaps in cultivation.

Uncle Fu and Chef Dao, with a reverence nearing pilgrimage, watched Gu Changsheng with burning anticipation, awaiting his verdict.

This was the first taste of “home” since the patriarch’s awakening. Every word of appraisal would become the supreme canon for Gu family cuisine through countless epochs.

Under the eyes of the many, Gu Changsheng picked up a piece of Mapo Tofu and placed it in his mouth.

The tofu did not melt softly as imagined; instead, it had a peculiar toughness, like chewing on an ancient piece of gum. The numbing spiciness was not the usual tongue-tingling heat but a paralysis that struck straight through to his spirit, making his head buzz.

“Hmm?” Gu Changsheng furrowed his brow slightly.

This tofu… is a bit tough. The texture’s too dry.

He then picked up a piece of Tomato Scrambled Eggs.

The egg chunks were tender, yet their fragrance carried an air of decay, like century-old preserved eggs. The tomato flavor was overly intense, and amid the sweet and sour, there lingered a metallic, almost bloody undertone.

Chewing twice, Gu Changsheng swallowed silently and then set down his chopsticks.

He said nothing, only took the nearby tea cup and rinsed his mouth.

The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly plummeted to freezing point.

Uncle Fu’s heart leapt to his throat. Chef Dao’s faceless countenance showed sheer terror and unease, his body trembling slightly.

What happened?

Is the patriarch dissatisfied?

Was it the “Silencing Demon Lord” Dao bone’s age making the tofu too tough? Or the Immortal Phoenix’s Nirvana egg being stored too long, losing freshness?

It’s over!

A chill ran through Chef Dao’s heart. He had ruined the first meal after the patriarch’s awakening—a sin beyond redemption!

In this deathly silence, Gu Changsheng spoke plainly, tinged with slight boredom:

“The taste… is just average.”

He shook his head and added, “The tofu’s a bit hard, the eggs a bit old. It’s okay for a bite or two, but too much will feel cloying.”

Then, as if recalling something, he pointed to the leftover dishes and said to Uncle Fu, “Alright, clean up. Don’t waste the rest—give it to Little Black.”

Little Black was the old yellow dog that always lounged in the sun by the door.

With a thud, Chef Dao could no longer hold himself and collapsed to his knees. Two tear-like streaks made of the flames of creation appeared on his smooth face.

It’s over! Completely over!

After dedicating his entire life to the Dao, producing the “Twin Creations of Genesis,” the patriarch’s only response was “just average” and “barely acceptable”!

What a failure! What a disgrace!

Uncle Fu’s heart trembled but soon “understood.”

He realized!

The patriarch was not dissatisfied but was guiding them through this method!

“Hard tofu” meant their current Gu family ways were too rigid, lacking the founder’s original soft simplicity.

“Old eggs” meant they clung to past glories and rules, their thinking outdated and inflexible.

The phrase “barely acceptable” was filled with endless disappointment and admonition!

Brilliant! Truly brilliant!

The patriarch had, through a meal, pointed out the core issues plaguing the Gu family! Such insight and wisdom were utterly unfathomable!

Uncle Fu’s emotions surged like a tide, yet his face grew even more respectful. He bowed deeply to Gu Changsheng: “This old servant… will diligently follow the young master’s teachings!”

With that, he carefully lifted the two remaining dishes and turned to hand them over to Little Black, who had been waiting nearby.

Little Black, outwardly an innocent old yellow dog but in truth a Chaos Devouring Beast, lazily lifted its eyelids at the aroma. Without even glancing at the plates, it opened its mouth and curled its tongue.

A soft breath escaped—