Chapter 34 — The First Meal

The early morning sun rose higher into the pale sky, sending crisp golden rays sweeping through the high ventilation beams of the newly expanded kitchen. Before the heavy wooden worktables stood Lin Fan, staring at the massive slab of Saint-grade Tyrant Bull meat resting on the marble preparation counter. The raw meat still pulsated with faint, thread-like veins of crimson volcanic energy, radiating a heat so intense that the air above it shimmered slightly.

"Step one," Lin Fan muttered to himself, tying his linen apron tightly around his waist. "Neutralize the spirit hazard before we turn our paying patrons into localized fireworks."

He grabbed a handful of Frost Mint and wild mountain herbs gathered by Crimson, dropping them into the heavy granite mortar. With a rhythmic, heavy pounding of the pestle, he crushed the cold leaves into a fine, aromatic emerald paste. He rubbed the cooling herbal mixture thoroughly across the thick cut of meat, instantly watching the fiery red veins pale into a soft, beautifully marbled pink.

Next, Lin Fan ignited the bronze hearth under the massive dual-handled cooking pot. The embedded spirit-fire array surged to life, casting a warm, stable orange glow beneath the heavy iron base. The moment the meat touched the hot bottom of the pot with a satisfying, violent sizzle, the System’s internal refinement arrays activated. The volatile, unrefined rage-qi latent within the beast meat was cleanly vaporized into thin white mist, leaving behind nothing but pure, tender muscle fibers drenched in rich natural fats.

With the primary safety concern resolved, the quiet kitchen transformed into a roaring engine of culinary creation.

The sounds of the room formed an intoxicating symphony. Tak-tak-tak-tak! Lin Fan’s heavy steel cleaver moved with effortless rhythm across the mahogany chopping board, dicing fresh garlic, wild mountain ginger, and crisp cabbages into perfectly uniform pieces. Beside him, Sect Master Lu worked the heavy iron baking oven with the focused intensity of an alchemist refining an immortal pill, carefully monitoring the rising temperature as loaves of white flour bread expanded into plump, golden mounds.

Over the central hearth, Lin Fan took hold of the heavy cast-iron wok. He poured in a swirl of golden oil, tossing in crushed garlic and crushed peppercorns. The moment the aromatics hit the searing iron, a crackling sizzle echoed through the room. He threw in bowls of cold steamed rice along with bright yellow egg yolks, flicking his wrist to send the contents soaring into the air. The grains separated instantly under the roaring flame, each individual piece coated in glistening, fragrant egg until it looked like a shower of pulverized gold.

In the large bronze pot, the braised beast meat simmered gently in a rich, dark reduction of mountain soy, rock sugar, star anise, and smashed ginger. The thick sauce bubbled lazily, filling the air with a deep, mouthwatering savory aroma that possessed almost physical weight. Nearby, multi-tiered bamboo steamers hissed softly, billowing thick white clouds of steam that smelled of sweet, pillowy dough and seasoned pork fillings.

The rich, complex aromas could not be contained within the thick wooden walls of the kitchen. They trickled out through the rear windows, floated across the quiet courtyard, and flooded straight into the main dining hall.

Outside in the hall, several early-arriving cultivators sat at their usual tables, quietly sipping their morning tea. These were men and women who had spent decades practicing fasting techniques, boasting to their peers that true seekers of the Dao had long since abandoned the crude, mortal desire for physical food.

Suddenly, a sudden, powerful draft of warm air swept through the dining room. It carried the undeniable scent of seared garlic, caramelized meat juices, toasted grain, and rich, bubbling broth.

The elder of the Iron Sword Sect paused mid-sip, his teacup freezing an inch from his lips. His nostrils flared once, twice, expanding in sheer disbelief.

A young rogue cultivator sitting near the window dropped his bamboo scroll onto the table. "What... what in the heavens is that smell?"

Across the room, the hollow stomach of a renowned Foundation Establishment master let out a loud, traitorous rumble that echoed off the polished wooden floorboards. The master flushed red, hurriedly coughing into his sleeve, but his eyes remained glued to the kitchen double doors with ravenous intensity.

Even the passersby walking along the stone street outside stopped dead in their tracks. People turned their heads toward the open windows of Lin’s Teahouse, sniffing the morning air like hunting dogs catching a fresh scent.

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"Is the shopkeeper refining a divine pill?" a local merchant whispered to his companion, craning his neck to look through the doorway. "No... that doesn't smell like medicinal herbs. That smells like... roast meat?"

Inside the kitchen, Lin Fan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm and pulled five wide porcelain platters onto the plating counter. With smooth, practiced movements, he arranged the first completed trial meal:

A massive bowl of Slow-Braised Beast Meat, glistening in a dark, sticky reduction; a high pile of Golden Egg Fried Rice; a plate of Garlic Stir-Fried Mountain Greens, vibrant and crisp; a steaming bowl of Hearty Wild Vegetable Soup; and a basket of Fluffy Steamed Buns alongside freshly baked hearth bread.

"Xiao Yu," Lin Fan called out, opening the kitchen doors. "Bring this platter to the staff table in the back courtyard. Then bring a portion out to table three in the dining hall."

"Yes, Shopkeeper!" Xiao Yu replied eagerly, picking up the heavy wooden tray with practiced balance.

A few moments later, the staff gathered around the low wooden table in the private courtyard. Sect Master Lu, Scartail, the ex-bandits of the Dishwasher Guild, and Crimson sat in a circle, staring at the steaming dishes set before them. Little Xiao Ling and Xiao Mei sat on wooden stools, their eyes sparkling as they clutched their tiny chopsticks.

"Eat up, everyone," Lin Fan said, stepping out into the courtyard while wiping his hands on a towel. "This is our official menu test. I need honest feedback."

There was no further invitation needed. Scartail was the first to move, plunging his wooden spoon into the Golden Egg Fried Rice and shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Silence fell over the courtyard.

Scartail stopped chewing. His single eye went wide. For three long seconds, he sat completely frozen, his jaw locked mid-bite.

"Scartail?" Lin Fan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is something wrong? Is it too salty?"

Scartail didn't answer. Instead, his chopsticks blurred into a terrifying frenzy. He scooped another huge mound of rice into his mouth, followed immediately by a thick, tender piece of braised meat. The meat was so soft it practically melted upon touching his tongue, releasing a flood of rich, savory juices that coated every corner of his palate with profound, smoky warmth.

"Sweet mother of immortals..." Iron Bear whimpered, taking his first bite of the braised meat. He closed his eyes, let out a deep, trembling groan of pure bliss, and immediately began shoveling food into his bowl as if he feared someone might steal it.

In the dining hall, the two early-arriving cultivators who had received a complimentary sample at table three were reacting with similar shock.

Unlike the celestial tea, which surged through the body with sharp, icy pulses of pure spiritual energy to clear meridians and wash away fatigue, the food produced no sudden heavenly phenomena. There were no golden dragons swirling overhead, no sudden breakthroughs in cultivation realms, and no divine lightning crackling in the sky.

It was simply, unequivocally, the most transcendentally delicious food any of them had ever placed in their mouths.

The high quality of the System's pristine cooking tools had preserved the absolute purity of the ingredients, while Lin Fan’s modern culinary techniques had elevated the natural flavors to perfection. The rice was perfectly separated, light, and fluffy; the mountain greens were crisp and bursting with clean, garlic-infused sweetness; the soup was warm, rich, and deeply comforting to the soul.

Sect Master Lu picked up a thick piece of the freshly baked hearth bread. He broke it in half, watching the soft, white interior steam gently in the cool morning air. He took a bite.

The golden crust cracked with a light, perfect crunch, giving way to an interior so soft and airy it felt like biting into a warm cloud. The natural, rich sweetness of the high-grade wheat exploded across his tongue.

Tears instantly welled up in the old former sect leader's eyes. He held the half-eaten bread in both hands, staring at it with the reverence one might reserve for an ancient supreme scripture.

"The texture..." Lu choked out, his voice trembling with profound emotion. "The crust is crisp, yet the crumb is as soft as silk! I have spent eighty years practicing the fire arts, yet I never imagined fire could be used to create such absolute perfection! This bread... this bread is my new Dao!"

Lin Fan chuckled softly, turning his gaze toward Crimson.

The ancient demon lord was eating with absolute, terrifying precision. Crimson held his porcelain bowl in his left hand, his chopsticks moving with smooth, silent grace. He took a bite of the braised beast meat, chewed slowly, and swallowed. His glowing red eyes blinked once, a faint, almost imperceptible gleam flashing deep within their crimson depths.

Without saying a single word, Crimson proceeded to clear his entire plate. The braised meat vanished. The egg fried rice disappeared. The stir-fried greens were consumed to the last leaf. In less than two minutes, his porcelain bowl was so completely clean it looked as though it had already been washed by the Dishwasher Guild.

Crimson set his empty bowl down onto the wooden table with a quiet clack. He adjusted his dark sleeves, sat up straight, and looked directly up at Lin Fan with his stoic, unreadable face.

"Is there more?" Crimson asked, his smooth voice completely flat, yet carrying a subtle, desperate undertone.

Lin Fan stared at the empty dishes, then looked out toward the dining hall, where the first wave of paying customers was already frantically waving Xiao Yu over to place orders for anything coming out of the kitchen. A warm, confident smile spread across Lin Fan's face.

Tea had put his shop on the map, but food—rich, comforting, magnificent food—was going to make it immortal.