Chapter Twenty: The Profound Art of Culinary Mastery

The following evening, Feng Xue swiftly finished the day's repetitive tasks. One had to admit, the world of anime truly defied common sense, with all sorts of oddities—those so-called "Deep Muscle University" musclemen were enough to make anyone feel uneasy just by looking at them.

After hastily dealing with his dinner, however, Feng Xue didn't follow the usual custom of the Polar Star Dormitory and head to Marui Zenji's room. Instead, he slipped quietly out. Although his origin had not yet awakened, he still carried some of its qualities; the very concept of presence, seemingly only a matter of subjective perception, was concealed under the domain of imaginary numbers, masking his movements.

Guided by the trace of aura left on Xiaohui from earlier in the day, Feng Xue stealthily arrived at the kitchen in the basement of the annex. By now, a crowd of graduates had gathered, all fixated on the three people busy at work.

"It seems I'm not too late..." Feng Xue sighed softly. There was nothing to be done—although he knew Xiaohui and Shigami's food war began at six in the afternoon, as a participant in the practical training, completing his daily tasks was essential. After preparing fifty set meals and finishing his own dinner, it was already past seven.

Calculating the time, the food war had been underway for over an hour (though it seemed quick in the anime, Shigami's French-style braised cabbage rolls alone required at least an hour of simmering for the flavors to develop—this was a conclusion the author reached after personally trying it). Fortunately, Feng Xue was not there to learn their cooking techniques, but to investigate that indescribable, peculiar power.

Feng Xue stood quietly beside the cooking station, waiting, forming a stark contrast to the chatting graduates around him. Though he stood right there, it was as if everyone ignored him—not just seemingly so, but as a result of his deliberate manipulation of his presence.

"French-style braised cabbage rolls..." As Shigami's dish was completed, Feng Xue quietly moved next to Fuyumi Mizuhara. While the graduates performed their embarrassed reactions to the deliciousness, Feng Xue discreetly cut a piece of cabbage from Mizuhara's plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Delicious!"

In that instant, the only word left in Feng Xue's mind was just that. Though the knowledge he gained at Totsuki could explain why the dish was so delicious, he had no desire to analyze it; instead, he wholeheartedly savored the power that stirred his taste buds.

It was merely the simplest pairing of ingredients, yet it danced across his palate like magic, continually reshaping his perception of vegetables. The title "Vegetable Magician" was well deserved.

Under the influence of this power, his gourmet cells began to stir restlessly. A pitch-black shadow appeared behind him, still indistinct, obscuring its true form.

Yet the flavor seemed insufficient; the shadow behind Feng Xue struggled and twisted, then faded away entirely.

"Huh? You? When did you get here?" Suddenly, Fuyumi Mizuhara's voice sounded beside him.

"Damn!" Feng Xue froze at the sound, then realized that, having relaxed his suppression of his presence while savoring the dish, he was now exposed to all. He turned hurriedly, only to find the other graduates still lost in the food, so he quickly intensified his control over his presence.

However, diminished presence was not true disappearance—it merely made one hard to notice. But for those who had already spotted him, such suppression was meaningless; like a certain anime character whose presence was so faint that no one realized he'd appeared in every episode unless they specifically looked for him.

"Ah, I was here from the start!" Feng Xue could only put on an innocuous smile. "I just have a low presence, that's all..."

Fuyumi Mizuhara stared at Feng Xue impassively, as if doubting his explanation. Could one's presence really be so low that no one noticed him at all? She glanced around and, finding no one else paying attention to Feng Xue, reluctantly accepted that he was an "Akari" type.

Before she could speak again, Xiaohui and Soma Yukihira brought up their dishes.

Just as Fuyumi Mizuhara prepared to cut into hers, Feng Xue beat her to it, spearing a piece of French aspic with sauce and tossing it into his mouth.

Only then did Mizuhara realize that Feng Xue was using her fork! Fortunately, Mizuhara possessed the "three-no" traits—her nature was calm, and she merely blushed. Had it been Erina in her place, she might have screamed.

At that moment, Feng Xue had no time to care about her reaction, for he had finally found the mystery he sought.

Shigami's dish was supremely delicious; the handling of ingredients and cooking technique flawless, with a strong personal style and an extraordinary mastery of vegetables. Yet after tasting it once, Feng Xue could perfectly replicate the dish.

Xiaohui's cooking, though also delicious, had many flaws—obvious shortcomings in ingredient handling and technique. Yet to Feng Xue, this dish held a special place, for he could not imitate it.

Indeed, he could not. Possessing the "food sense," he was confident he could perform every step, even surpassing her in preparation and cooking, but he knew he could not reproduce that flavor.

Within this dish seemed to reside something transcending the essence of the ingredients, conveying gentleness and warmth, evoking memories of childhood and home—a nostalgic, textured recollection, infused by some unknown method into the modest dish. It lacked the impact of top-tier cuisine, yet lingered, making it hard to let go. Were Feng Xue's memories of home not confined to a city of steel and concrete, he might already have been moved to tears.

"Why? Why?" Feng Xue was bewildered, like one lost in a labyrinth searching for the exit. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind, all the knowledge acquired at Totsuki intertwined, yet none could explain the source of this unknown influence.

"Could mere pairing of ingredients truly convey emotion like this?"

Feng Xue abandoned searching for answers through knowledge, instinctively combing through all his memories of food—not just real-life experiences, but documentaries, films, and even manga: "A Bite of China," "Gourmet Graffiti," "Cooking Master Boy," "Man Han Banquet"...

Suddenly, a phrase came to him—"As long as you have heart, anyone can be a God of Cooking!"

Feng Xue felt a moment of enlightenment; everything opened up at once, knowledge in his mind harmonizing with that phrase, forming a chaotic unity spinning within.

Heart.

The true meaning of food, the secret of cuisine.

Stephen Chow, recalling lost love, created a dish so moving it brought tears, though he claimed it was because of the onions.

Amei, after heartbreak, made steamed buns that were bitter and astringent, though she said it was because of her tears (which was impossible—tears would only make the buns salty, and the amount needed for kneading would blind a person).

Zhang Dongguan, in the "Man Han Banquet," lost his sense of taste, yet, driven by love, stir-fried egg rice that tasted of sweetness, though he insisted he hadn't added a spoonful of sugar...

Such examples were originally literary depictions in film, but now gained new significance—the qualities of the soul seemed to possess the power to change the very nature of ingredients.

"Heart, then?" Feng Xue murmured softly, probably heard only by the nearby Fuyumi Mizuhara—not even she caught his words fully.

"Let’s call it 'Chef’s Heart.'"

As the thought took hold, clarity washed over him. His two souls, Heaven and Earth, seemed more closely linked; though not yet fused, they no longer felt so distant. The "food sense," already at its peak, began to evolve anew. The shadow behind him, visible only to himself, slowly became more solid; soul particles governed by his AT field began to stir, something mysterious within him split off and blended in, flooding into the shadow, ultimately becoming a chrysalis. This did not mean his gourmet demon was a chrysalis—rather, it marked the stage of nurturing a food spirit from nothing. Once he absorbed enough deliciousness, the gourmet demon would emerge from the chrysalis, forming a food spirit uniquely suited to Feng Xue.

Completely immersed in his spiritual ascension, Feng Xue no longer bothered to suppress his presence. At that moment, the graduates who had completed their guidance for Shigami Kojiro and awarded Xiaohui three coins finally noticed the person who absolutely should not have been in the room.

Yet no one spoke; even Soma Yukihira, wanting to greet Feng Xue, was stopped by Gin Dojima’s gaze.

To these graduates, Feng Xue appeared like a monk who had attained enlightenment, or a martial artist who had reached the pinnacle—a flavor of "Zen," a sense of "Dao."

"Looks like there’s more than two..." Someone muttered quietly, but in the silent room, everyone heard.

Everyone understood what the "two" meant.

That phrase from Guan Shouping—a food war saved two chefs; now, it seemed the greatest gain belonged to this enigmatic figure who had appeared from nowhere.