Chapter Forty-Six: Ultimate Challenge

“What’s this? Not listening? Have you forgotten about your wife?”

The moment Qian Shanduo uttered these words, Zhao Ke’s face flushed with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it sounded like bones grinding, and his thin, withered frame trembled with rage.

Qian Shanduo laughed boisterously. “What? You’re angry? Hahahaha! If you’ve got the guts, come and cut me down!”

Ming Tian watched this scene, realizing that Qian Shanduo’s bullying of Zhao Ke had escalated to a matter of morality.

Zhao Ke’s fists clenched so hard that, were it not for the calluses on his hands, blood would have seeped from his palms already.

“Qian Shanduo, don’t push people too far.” After a long pause, Zhao Ke managed to choke out this short sentence, but his tone was laced more with fear than defiance.

“Hmph.”

The fat old man’s jowls quivered, and he struck the worktable hard with a bronze spoon, the clanging noise grating on everyone’s nerves. “So what if I’m pushing you? Don’t like it? Then swallow it!”

“You—”

Zhao Ke could bear it no longer. He snatched up a cleaver and advanced, intent on hacking this bastard to pieces.

Caught off guard, Qian Shanduo took three steps back in fright, clearly not expecting Zhao Ke to actually make a move.

Seeing this, Ming Tian stepped forward, grabbing Zhao Ke by the shoulder and halting him.

“Calm down. Don’t forget why you’ve persisted here for thirty years.”

At these words, Zhao Ke seemed to recall something, his lips pressed tight, fighting an internal battle. After a long moment, his expression finally softened, and he set the cleaver down. “I understand. I’ll return to the Yellow Table. Young man, take care of yourself.”

With that, he trudged away toward the Yellow Table, his already aged figure seeming to age another ten years in an instant, his spirit utterly dimmed.

Once Zhao Ke had left, Qian Shanduo resumed his earlier bluster. “Hmph, useless. And you, boy, less than three cups of tea’s time left. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if you can’t present your dish, your head’s forfeit!”

You damned fat fool, you really don’t learn your lesson. If I hadn’t stopped Zhao Ke just now, you’d be dog food by now, and yet you still swagger around.

Ming Tian found himself increasingly intrigued by Zhao Ke, the old chef, and utterly fed up with this Qian Shanduo.

“That’s not your concern. Just stop wasting my time.” Ming Tian ignored him and focused on plating his dish.

Qian Shanduo sneered as he saw Ming Tian toss a handful of bean sprouts into the pot, then finally left, allowing Ming Tian to devote himself to his work once more.

Bean sprouts have a stubborn grassy odor, but there’s a simple, brute-force way to remove it: coarse salt!

Ming Tian poured a generous amount of coarse sea salt into the boiling water—so much that the water became a saturated brine.

In ancient times, salt was usually produced by boiling, and the crude methods left trace halogens in the salt. These trace halogens were key to dispelling the raw odor from the bean sprouts.

There was plenty of brine in the kitchen, but soaking the sprouts in it would be a waste of time, and afterward, they’d still need to be boiled. Besides, bean sprouts are full of water; if the brine seeped in, it would be troublesome.

A quick blanch, then immediately plunging the bean sprouts into cold water to drain off the salt, did the trick. The residual salt imparted a subtle hint of savoriness to the sprouts.

Salt and sweetness together create umami—exactly what Ming Tian was aiming for.

There were about twenty-five minutes left. Ming Tian hurried to start plating.

Since bean sprouts are elongated, it would be difficult to directly shape the phoenix’s body. Ming Tian chose chestnut paste as a base, piling it onto the plate to form the phoenix’s fullest part. This made shaping the rest much easier and faster.

Ideally, mashed sweet potato would be better, but sweet potatoes wouldn’t arrive in China for hundreds of years.

When arranging the phoenix’s body, the direction of each bean sprout was critical. One misplaced sprout would ruin the entire aesthetic.

And this was precisely what stumped Ming Tian!

This dish was for the emperor, not the sort of plate thrown together at a hotel where “good enough” would suffice. If the visual appeal was marred, the emperor would certainly complain.

Ten minutes left—Ming Tian hadn’t even started on the tail, wings, feathers, or the most difficult part, the head.

At this rate, he’d never finish in time!

“Young man.”

Just as Ming Tian was as frantic as an ant on a hot pan, Zhao Ke called out from his station behind.

He quietly advised, “Don’t use your index finger and thumb. The other three fingers get in the way and slow you down. Use your index and middle finger to arrange them. Hurry—there’s only time for one cup of tea left.”

The other chefs had already finished their dishes and turned them in; some were already lounging in the corner, chatting away.

This timely tip was a godsend for Ming Tian.

Zhao Ke seemed trustworthy—he wouldn’t trick him.

Ming Tian tried arranging the bean sprouts as Zhao Ke suggested. Sure enough, though he could only pick up a few at a time, his precision increased tenfold!

A true master—a single sentence and the results were remarkable!

Delighted, Ming Tian quickened his pace.

The final minute!

With the last bean sprout, representing the phoenix’s beak, the plating was done.

A full minute remained—more than enough to drizzle the sauces!

Using the back of a spoon, Ming Tian deftly and steadily poured the prepared sauces over the phoenix.

Zhao Ke, standing behind him, was stunned by the final flourish.

Not just Zhao Ke—several passing chefs halted in their tracks, all previous disdain vanishing as their feet seemed rooted to the ground.

Scallion oil for the head—the pale gold symbolizing the phoenix’s regal bearing.

Pomegranate juice for the body—the crimson making the phoenix’s form dazzling.

Honey for the tail—rose gold highlighting the phoenix’s proud defiance.

Ginger juice for the wings—the yellow-green making them vibrant and lifelike.

Bird’s nest essence for the flight feathers—each plume shining with sacred brilliance.

Finally, grape juice as a base, forming a shallow layer across the plate, with headless bean sprouts representing a night sky filled with shooting stars.

As the last drop of grape juice fell, the kitchen’s bronze gong sounded to announce the dishes.

This six-flavored, upgraded Phoenix Crystal was completed in the very final second!

Now, over twenty chefs gathered around the station, all their previous scorn erased by the sight of this finished dish.

Its perfect presentation made the phoenix seem to leap from the porcelain plate, soaring into the heavens!

Damn, am I really this good? Do I have such talent for plating?

Looking at the Phoenix Crystal he’d just completed, Ming Tian wanted to kiss himself in admiration.

I’m absolutely amazing!

“Present—dish—”

With the eunuch’s call, hundreds of palace maids entered the Imperial Kitchen, carefully carrying away each master’s creation for the emperor.

Even the maid carrying Ming Tian’s Phoenix Crystal paused in awe.

Still, accustomed to tofu Buddhas and radish flowers, these maids were not easily impressed. They saw hundreds of masterpieces daily—no matter how extraordinary, it wasn’t enough to leave them dumbstruck.

Ming Tian’s attention wasn’t on impressing the maids, however, but on Qian Shanduo.

Although Qian Shanduo hadn’t watched him cook, Ming Tian noticed out of the corner of his eye that, ever since the Phoenix Crystal was completed, the fat man had been staring at it, as if brooding over something.

Sure enough, as Ming Tian’s Phoenix Crystal was about to be carried out, the fat man made his move, intercepting the maid and saying something to her.

“Young man.”

Just as Ming Tian was about to go over and investigate, Zhao Ke came up to him.

The old chef looked at him with deep appreciation, nodding. “I can’t say how it tastes yet, but just that presentation alone could win the emperor’s favor. Remarkable, young man. My skills are good, but I could never be as creative as you.”

“Is that so? Thank you.”

Well, even though I stole the idea from an anime… whatever, survival comes first. Besides, there are no copyright issues in this era—and even if there were, I’m in the South and North! In this era, I’m the original, aren’t I?

Ming Tian was thoroughly convinced by his own logic, praising himself silently.

And Zhao Ke—seriously, there’s no need to boast about your own skills. A little humility wouldn’t hurt. It’s fine with me, but if you said that to the fat bastard outside, you’d get cursed out again.

Ming Tian sighed inwardly—Zhao Ke really was a good man, just lacking some social savvy, which likely explained his workplace struggles.

Then Ming Tian’s gaze shifted, and he happened to notice the red string jade Buddha on Zhao Ke’s wrist.

Having followed his boss for years—a boss who was fond of collecting Buddhist artifacts—Ming Tian had developed a discerning eye for such things.

Though tiny, no larger than two soybeans, the jade Buddha was exquisitely carved, with even the lines of the ushnisha on its head rendered in delicate detail.

If this piece existed in the modern era, its age and religious significance would make it worth at least two hundred million.

But in this era, it was merely worth three or four taels of silver—not cheap, but nothing for an imperial chef earning eighty taels a year.

Zhao Ke noticed Ming Tian’s gaze and smiled, raising his wrist to show him. “You like jade Buddhas too, young man?”

“Yes.” Ming Tian looked at it, feeling a little envious.

Never mind the price—the artistry alone made him covet it.

Still, Ming Tian had his principles; he’d never resort to theft, especially since Zhao Ke had helped him at a crucial moment.

“Would you sell it to me?” Ming Tian asked, a note of entreaty in his voice.

Zhao Ke shook his head with a smile, covering the jade Buddha—not out of fear, but from genuine cherishment. “My wife made this for me. It’s not valuable, but to me, it’s priceless.”

Clearly, Zhao Ke loved his wife dearly, which piqued Ming Tian’s curiosity about the history between him and Qian Shanduo.

But earlier, when Qian Shanduo mentioned Zhao Ke’s wife, Zhao Ke nearly lost control.

There must be painful secrets there, not to be easily discussed.

Ming Tian wasn’t foolish enough to pry. Instead, he squinted, offering a smile full of admiration. “Then be sure to keep it safe!”

Now, all that remained was to wait for the emperor to declare today’s best dish.

Ming Tian was confident that his Phoenix Crystal would win the emperor’s favor. If he could secure the honor of best dish, it would mean he’d pleased the emperor’s palate—then the first step in the assassination plan would be a success.

With that thought, Ming Tian sat atop a clay pot, waiting anxiously for the results.

Emperor, you’d better have good taste. I don’t care if you don’t choose me as best dish, but if you dare say it’s bad, after I finish you off, I’ll dig up your ancestors and fry their bones for good measure!

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PS: Today’s update is 7,500 words—a show of my sincerity. Starting tomorrow, there will be three updates daily. I hope you’ll vote for me. The first update will be around 12:10 a.m. Thank you all, I need your support! My deepest thanks!