The Chef's Trial

Jiawei blinked awake, the faint hum of the room pulling him from the depths of sleep. His gaze landed on a glowing device embedded into the wall above the desk. The digits burned red:

D-3

He squinted, trying to make sense of it, until his eyes drifted to a smaller note just beneath it:

[D-0 for regular contestants]

His breath hitched. Am I late to go to the hall to see Xiao Jiang!? Panic spiked through him, and he threw the blanket off, scrambling to his feet.

The thought barely had time to settle before he was rushing to the bathroom, splashing water on his face, and stepping into the shower. The freezing blast jolted him fully awake. He scrubbed hastily. His feelings are kinda all over the place, somehow he feels worried for Xiao Jiang. She is a kid after all. Jiawei doesn't think he can feel okay if he has to lose the little girl on day two of knowing each other.

Still toweling his damp hair, Jiawei dashed back to his room and began dressing in a flurry, tugging his shirt on over his head. Halfway through buttoning it, a sharp knock rattled his door.

He froze.

"Tian Qi?" he called out, cautiously making his way to the door.

The knocking didn't come again. Puzzled, Jiawei unlocked the door and swung it open.

The hallway is empty.

His brows furrowed as he stepped out, scanning both ends of the corridor. Nothing—no footsteps, no sign of anyone having been there. But then his eyes fell on a small box sitting neatly in front of his door.

Jiawei glanced around one last time before picking it up and retreating inside. He set the box on the desk, hesitating for a moment before pulling off the lid.

Inside was a dish he recognized instantly—Shadow Fried Noodles. The delicate fragrance wafted up to him, a mix of smoky and savory notes that sent an eerie chill down his spine.

It isn't just familiar. It was exactly the way he made it.

Jiawei's chest tightened. He hadn't cooked that dish for anyone since arriving here. In fact, he hadn't even thought about it until now other than when he saw the drawing of it on the book cover yesterday. The realization sent his mind spiraling.

Is there someone watching him? Or worse, targeting him.

He poked at the noodles with a fork, unable to shake the feeling that there is more to this than met the eye. Is this a threat? A message? Who would even—

A second knock broke his thoughts, this one louder and more deliberate. Jiawei snapped the lid back onto the box and strode to the door, a mix of nerves and frustration suddenly bubbling up.

"Who is it?" he called, hand hovering over the handle.

"It's me!" Tian Qi's voice came through, light and casual.

Jiawei exhaled sharply and opened the door, only to be met with Tian Qi's smirking face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Tian Qi said, tilting his head. Then, his gaze flicked over Jiawei's shoulder. "What's that smell? Smells like noodles."

Jiawei stepped aside just enough to block Tian Qi's view of the desk. "Nothing. Just... breakfast."

Tian Qi raised a brow but didn't push. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe with a sly grin. "Well, breakfast boy, we better move quickly. Looks like things are already heating up in the competition arena."

Jiawei and Tian Qi made their way toward the competition arena.

"Have you seen Xiao Jiang this morning? I overslept," Jiawei asked, his tone a mix of guilt and curiosity.

"Relax, I caught up with her earlier," Tian Qi replied casually. "Gave her a little pep talk too. She seems ready, honestly. Don't let her age fool you—she's tougher than she looks. Let's see how she does today."

Jiawei nodded, feeling a bit more reassured. Despite her young age, Xiao Jiang carried an air of resilience that couldn't be ignored.

As they arrived at the front of the arena, the noise of the crowd swelled. Spectators lined up in neat rows, shuffling toward the grand entrance. At the doors stood a pair of gatekeepers, their demeanor polite yet firm.

One of them, a woman dressed impeccably in white and gold, addressed the crowd in a clear, composed voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, a reminder: For those accompanied by children, please be mindful. The competition will involve scenes of violence and, at times, death. If you believe it may be distressing, kindly cover their eyes during such moments."

"Additionally, we ask for your cooperation in maintaining a respectful atmosphere inside the arena. Please keep conversations to a whisper, avoid loud discussions, and refrain from crying or shouting. Let us all show respect to the participants and the spirit of the event."

Jiawei glanced at Tian Qi, who gave a dry chuckle.

"Well," Tian Qi muttered, "if they wanted to make this sound even more intense, I don't think they could."

Chen Jiawei and Tian Qi finally stepped into the competition arena, their footsteps echoing faintly against the polished marble floor.

As realm-scouting contestants, they were escorted to the VVIP section, a seating area perched higher than the rest, offering an unparalleled view of the battlefield below. The seats were lavishly upholstered in deep crimson velvet, each accompanied by a personal viewing screen embedded into the armrest. The air smelled faintly of exotic spices and polished metal, an odd but strangely fitting mix.

The arena itself was a sight to behold—magnificent, daunting, and dripping with grandeur.

At the heart of the arena stood the contestants' cooking stations, arranged in a ring around a massive central platform. Each station was equipped with cutting-edge tools and devices, their polished surfaces gleaming ominously. The platform beneath them wasn't just for standing—it was a mechanism of judgment.

Suspended on invisible pulleys, the stations stood atop intricate platforms designed to rise and fall at the arena's command. Contestants who failed to meet the grueling standards of the judges would find themselves subjected to "the Sharpener," a brutal contraption that descended like a giant blade, its jagged edges meant to slice away any pretense of mediocrity.