Chapter 2

The dispirited swordsman descended the mountain just like that. Unable to believe what had happened, he glanced back every few steps on his way down, but all he could see was that cold bronze mask.

Mornings in Jiangnan often brought fog. The man stood distantly on the high ground, gradually blending into hazy gauze amid the brightening eastern sky until even his blurry silhouette vanished.

Hua Bailian hadn’t properly walked a road since mastering top-tier lightness skill. To prolong that final glance, he forced himself to trudge along a stretch of bluestone mountain path.

At the inn in Jiangnan City, he ran into a group of young swordsmen clad in fitted outfits with swords at their waists. They were his junior brothers and sisters, who had been scouring the area for news of him. Spotting Hua Bailian, they lifted their heads in delight. “Senior Brother! Where have you been these past few days? Master’s homing pigeon couldn’t track you down. We sensed you were in danger and searched everywhere for leads. Someone mentioned seeing you head to Peacock Manor, but your trail vanished at Heart Washing Manor… We looked high and low but couldn’t find you. We were burning with anxiety—if you hadn’t shown up in three days, we were going to sneak into Heart Washing Manor under cover of night.”

“Hey, Senior Brother, your forehead feels scorching hot, your cheeks are so flushed, and your lips are all chapped and peeling,” one junior sister said, her voice full of heartache as she took in his dazed, disheveled look.

“Your personal sword is missing too. Where on earth have you been these last three days?” The group pressed him with concern. They rolled up their senior brother’s sleeve and spotted faint red marks from bindings, their anger flaring instantly. “You’ve been tied up? Who dared humiliate you like that? Want us to go settle the score with them?”

Hua Bailian froze for a weird three seconds. “It’s fine. Heart Washing Manor didn’t mistreat me at all. This was just… a big misunderstanding.” He’d completely forgotten his rage and bitterness from those three days. Now, the only image in his mind was that lightly smiling face behind the bronze mask.

Finally, he was gone.

It didn’t look like he held any deep grudge either. He’d probably nipped the “Raze Heart Washing Manor” dungeon instance in the bud. Ruan Xuezong let out a calm breath of relief.

Daylight had fully broken by then, so he decided to check on the two new players who’d shown up at the manor. With a flash of lightness skill, he reached the back mountain.

When he arrived, Ruan Xuezong raised an eyebrow. He felt duped by the system once again. These level 1 players had no martial arts and were utterly ordinary—they couldn’t even catch a single fish.

Linghu Xiao and Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny were tearing their hair out…

Half an hour later, their bucket was still empty. The river’s temporary fishing probability boost was about to expire, and they had nothing to show for it. Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny pulled up some info on Starnet and recited in a dramatic, up-and-down cadence: “Fishing is an ancient Earth method for catching fish—a refined, rustic leisure activity that nurtures body and soul. Jiangnan is a land of fish and rice, home to famous species like…”

“I’ll buy the body-and-soul bit, but land of fish and rice? I haven’t seen a single damn fish,” Linghu Xiao said, on the brink of a meltdown.

“I figured it out! Your rod’s missing bait. The guides say you need more than just the long bamboo pole and line—you’ve got to hook on some earthworms or veggie scraps.” Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny kept reading aloud: “Starnet wiki claims that for thousands of years, everyone who fished without bait—except Jiang Taigong—was a total idiot.”

“Hey, you can’t just call people idiots!”

And with that, the 2/5 fishing squad called it quits for the day!

Ruan Xuezong shook his head. Not only were these players hopeless with their hands, they had terrible eyesight too. The river teemed with fish and shrimp—not quite to the point of “hundreds idly swimming in the pool with nothing to cling to,” but a quick net would have netted something.

At last, Linghu Xiao ditched the rod. He rolled up his pant legs and waded in, splashing around. Then his bare foot slipped on a moss-covered pebble, and he toppled backward, landing hard on his rear.

“This game’s realism is off the charts. My clothes are soaked—I’m freezing.” Linghu Xiao sneezed.

Just as Ruan Xuezong turned to leave, he heard footsteps. A kindly plump figure approached the two players.

Chef Shao had been boiling water in the kitchen for ages, waiting for them to return. His face darkened as he stormed to the back mountain. The sight of these two fumbling idiots nearly made his lungs explode.

He charged forward and smacked each of them on the head. “How are you two so useless? Can’t handle something this basic!” Any random three-year-old urchin in Jiangnan City could grab fish barehanded!

【Attention: Chef Shao’s favorability toward you has dropped by 1 point! If favorability falls too low, the NPC will refuse to teach their lifelong ultimate skills.】

The two players panicked. Ignoring the throbbing on their scalps, one hugged Chef Shao around the waist by his water bucket, the other latched onto his leg. They burst into preemptive tears: “Save us, Master Shao! Fishing’s impossible! Give us one more shot—don’t dock our favorability! We still want to learn your lifelong ultimate skills!”

Favorability? Lifelong skills? Chef Shao had no clue what they meant. He was just a run-of-the-mill cook at Heart Washing Manor whose food happened to taste pretty good. But their blubbering carried a rare, endearing sincerity—the kind only true idiots could muster.

His heart softened a touch. He shoved them off. “Fine, just this once. I’ll show you.”

What followed was pure magic. Chef Shao snatched up the rod Linghu Xiao had tossed aside and expertly baited the hook.

Every three minutes, a splash erupted on the river’s surface. Fish leaped straight into his grasp, one after another, like they were throwing themselves at him.

Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny fell utterly silent, her eyes sparkling with awe. Linghu Xiao, meanwhile, was a walking question mark. Was this the same activity he was doing with this NPC?

The moment Chef Shao hooked the first fish, Linghu Xiao knew something was up and quietly started recording gameplay.

“Too bad you haven’t learned any martial arts. With a proper foundation, you wouldn’t even need a rod.”

Chef Shao’s burly frame evoked a reclusive master as he perched on a massive boulder. Before the players could process his words, he languidly extended one palm toward the river. The thick calluses on his fingers came from decades of diligent practice.

With a boom, the serene river exploded as if struck by a miniature interstellar missile. Massive waves churned, birthing a two- or three-meter whitewater tornado that shot skyward. Countless sturgeon, perch, shrimp, crabs, and tiny fish got swept up, only to rain down like a fine drizzle onto the shallows.

“I’m kneeling.” Fish pelted Linghu Xiao’s face, and his knees buckled. “Is this ancient Earth’s martial arts? So utterly dominant.”

The unspoken vow: He had to learn it!

Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny rubbed her eyes furiously. “I’m blind too. Was all that stuff really in the river just now?”

Chef Shao had already lingered too long in the back mountain demoing for these greenhorns. The kitchen couldn’t run without him. Glancing at the time, he leaped up as if his pants were on fire—but the players clamoring to learn martial arts blocked his path.

Looking thoroughly annoyed, he said, “This is just the third form of Heart Washing Manor’s most basic martial art, Push Heart Palm—Angry Dragon Emerges from Water. It’s no big deal. I don’t teach martial arts. I’m just a plain old cook.” He stressed his job once more.

Players, however, zeroed in on the important bits.

“Pfft!” Such an insane move was merely the third form? Unleashed in sequence, it’d shatter the heavens! Linghu Xiao was even more desperate to keep Chef Shao from leaving. If he hadn’t been physically holding on, he’d have hollered, “Master, please accept this disciple’s bow!”

“Stop pawing at me—the Young Manor Lord’s awake. I need to stew fish soup for him.” Chef Shao bolted, but he couldn’t shake the two little tails trailing behind him.

In the kitchen proper,

The two interstellar players gawked like fools as Chef Shao slammed a wriggling fish onto the cutting board. He scaled and gutted it with expert precision, his cleaver a blur, emerging with neat chunks. He fired up the pot with water, twirled his long ladle, and tossed in scallion knots, ginger slices, tender bamboo shoots, and cooking wine. A rich, milky aroma soon filled the air—everything flowed like a flawless performance.

How long did it take to make a pot of fish soup?

Not long at all. Soon, a spleen-fortifying bowl of perch soup emerged from the pot. The players’ jaws dropped as he plated the whole thing.

Whoops— he’d made too much. One bowl couldn’t hold it all, leaving a bit of soupy remnant. The two players shot Chef Shao bashful, hopeful glances. He gave a slight nod, unperturbed.

Linghu Xiao claimed the first small bowl, taking a cautious sip. Then he nearly kicked himself for not savoring it properly—this was a sip for the ages.

Holy hell! How could soup taste this good? The creamy white broth shimmered with flecks of green onion—nothing like the interstellar sludge tagged “SAN-draining,” “toxic and reeking.” No trace of factory fishiness; instead, a lingering savoriness that nearly melted his tongue. The game’s hyper-realism turned the meal into sweet nectar.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Even as he reminded himself to sip slowly, he drained every last drop before setting wistful eyes on Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny.

Across from him, she was inhaling hers like an office worker who’d starved for lifetimes. Catching his look, she clutched her tiny bowl protectively.

Linghu Xiao protested, “I wasn’t going to steal yours.” His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, utterly torpedoing his credibility. Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny’s gaze sharpened to full wolf-repellent mode as she hugged her bowl and scooted away.

She took another small sip.

“Too delicious,” she murmured, tears spilling unbidden. Choking up, she added, “I don’t know why, but this sip awakened some ancient soul deep inside me.”

In the midst of her slurping, a system prompt popped up: 【Congratulations! You’ve obtained Chef Shao’s dropped purple recipe—Four-Gill Perch Soup.】 The purple glow dazzled brilliantly.

【Recipe collected. Jiangnan cuisine series unlocked. Players, keep collecting!】

“Mommy!” Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny peeked at her cuisine list and reeled from the bounty: Jiangnan qingtuan, drunken crab, squirrel mandarin fish, Longjing shrimp, salted duck, tea-scented chicken… Names she’d never heard, but they all screamed “delicious”! And this was just one cuisine system among many!

Still cradling her bowl, her eyes gleamed wolfish green. She balled her fists. “You go chase martial arts. I’m sticking with Chef Shao from now on—gonna be a proud chef.” What was life for if not eating?

The 2/5 squad disbanded at lightspeed. Linghu Xiao quickly caught on. “Hold up—why’d you get a recipe drop and I didn’t?”

A steaming bowl of rich perch soup made its way to the Young Manor Lord’s door. The door stood half-open, revealing only a pair of slender, porcelain-white hands. They lifted the spoon—colors like polished jade, nurtured by wealth beyond mortal ken.

Those hands alone sparked endless fantasies and an air of profound mystery. Meanwhile, the post Linghu Xiao had dashed off after logging out was heating up on Starnet.