Chapter 449: The Invisible Poisoner
At this very moment, inside the pitch-black, archaic Chinese palace, the Chef God Cup competition was about to resume.
The charming host, Miss Cleopatra, walked from the high platform with the stride of a world-class supermodel and said with a smile, "Ladies and gentlemen, the long-awaited competition is now underway! We have notified the contestants to take their places!"
On television and across the internet, the audience watching the live stream cheered in great anticipation, and the bullet comments on the video sites flew by in a frenzy.
A year of planning and a single day of broadcasting had made this program the focus of the entire world.
The gatekeepers were all world-class beauties or handsome men, each with unique charm and distinct personalities—some cute, some cold, some straightforward. All were incredibly vivid. And this time, the strong-looking old man in sunglasses had even proposed eliminating one of the contestants—such explosive news.
The audience couldn't wait to see the competition that followed.
By now, a chef had walked out of the tunnel first. Under the spotlights, he waved to the audience off-camera.
He had thick, slightly curly dark-brown hair, and beneath his large nose sat a symmetrical handlebar mustache that curled slightly at the ends, forming a handsome arc, much like a humorous middle-aged gentleman. However, viewed from the side, his features were quite fierce, somewhat resembling Saddam on the battlefield.
In truth, he was a French man of Colombian descent who had reached where he was today through his own struggles.
He had changed into a new chef's uniform, wearing a cowboy-style apron, and topped with a mushroom-shaped white chef's hat, giving him a bit of the charming quality of Uncle Mario. He wore a gentleman's smile, actively interacting with the audience off-camera to gain fans.
"From the ancient, great country with five thousand years of culinary history—the old Chef God of China, Mr. Liu Mao Xing, has appeared!"
The spotlights and cameras immediately shifted, focusing on the newcomer.
"Hello, everyone~!" The old man, wrapped in a red headscarf, smiled and walked out from the tunnel with his hands behind his back.
'Ooooh, the strongest one of the three grandfathers has come out! Grandpa is so handsome~!'
'Oh, my God! I still can't believe he's a ninety-year-old man; his muscle mass is enough to film The Terminator! So handsome!'
"The mysterious, fiery red chef, Masked X, who looks so passionate, has entered!" Cleopatra announced.
"Can't you use a normal way of addressing me?" Shirou complained helplessly as he walked.
'The mysterious man in red! I love his outfit! But that mask is really intriguing!'
'I think his outfit wouldn't look out of place even in a superhero movie!'
'Then what's his hero name? Chef-Man?'
Shirou waved casually at the camera, a greeting, and headed toward his cooking station.
"Oh, have they all arrived early? As expected, chefs have a strong sense of time." The old man in sunglasses, wearing a red long magua, also descended from the roof.
"Yes, Master Li. Now, only Mr. Nakiri Senzaemon, the Food Demon King from Japan, remains," Cleopatra replied.
Meanwhile, in the basement, after Erina sent Shirou out, she jogged back to Nakiri Senzaemon's lounge.
At this time, the elder Nakiri was still leisurely sitting on a recliner, eyes closed to rest his mind. On the vanity in front of him, a pot of tea and some snacks were laid out. The snacks remained untouched, but half a cup of tea had been consumed.
When Erina pushed open the door and entered, the elder opened his eyes, revealing a playful smile.
"Goodness, I'm surprised you remembered to come back. I thought you'd be stuck to that young man and had forgotten about this old man. Sigh, a grown girl is not meant to be kept," Nakiri Senzaemon said with a hearty laugh.
"Grandpa, what are you talking about! The competition is about to start," Erina said, blushing.
"Forget it, it truly is time to bring this to an end. If that boy can make it to the end, that would be a good choice. But before that, this old bag of bones still needs to give it his all and make one more effort!" As the elder Nakiri said this, he braced his hands on the armrests of the chair and stood up. At that moment, his pupils suddenly contracted, his body shuddered, and he froze.
"Ugh... cough, cough..." The elder covered his mouth, feeling a fishy scent in his mouth. Checking his palm, he found black blood flowing from between his fingers.
"Grandpa!!! Someone, help!" Nakiri Erina shrieked in horror and rushed to support the limp old man.
"This... this is poison... let... be careful..." The elder Nakiri said his last words and collapsed into unconsciousness.
"Grandpa! Grandpa!" Erina screamed.
"Master! Miss!" The bodyguards outside the door rushed in.
Erina took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down amidst the chaos. "Call the medical experts in! Notify the hospital immediately and have toxicology experts sent over! Quickly!"
Fortunately, this was Tokyo, and the Nakiri family's network covered every circle; Erina had prepared in advance. The team doctor rushed over, placed the elder on the sofa, and began an examination.
"Grandpa, Shirou... please, don't let anything happen," Nakiri Erina said in a deep, trembling voice, holding the hand of the elder who had vomited blood and lost consciousness.
On the competition field, Pablo wore a smile, waving to the camera as he thought:
"Sorry, Nakiri, but you should understand—this is a presidential election for the culinary world! Your sacrifice will forge my grand cause of dominating the world, and your death will be remembered by history."
Pablo revealed a triumphant smile.
'Politics' was destined from the beginning to possess a dirty side. The game between nations represents the interests of hundreds of millions of people; it may not cause rivers of blood to flow, but it can lead to consequences even more cruel than war.
The fighting between different factions and the interest groups and conglomerates behind them produces politicians who are dirty to the core. They shout slogans and ideals when running for office, but the moment they sit in the seat of power, they forget it all. Only relationships built on interest are eternal.
This is the case in Japan, Taiwan, and Korea alike. They take pride in the legal justice of overthrowing their supreme leaders and the power of public opinion, unaware that this is merely a reshuffling of the interest groups behind the scenes.
The replaced president and the new dealer just mean the original gray areas remain; they are simply being redistributed. Regardless of how many leaders or parties are swapped, the original problems remain a mess.
Take Obama's healthcare, which was hyped the loudest; it's unknown how many times it was discounted, and he still hadn't achieved it by the time he left office.
Just like Trump—he could have his granddaughter recite Tang poetry, but when it came to starting trade wars and technological blockades, he was not hesitant at all. Important, high-tech components were limited or even cut off.
ZTE, without enough core technology reserves, collapsed just like that. A company as strong as Huawei, without relying on domestic support, relied on technology to become the world's top communication equipment company and the architect of the world's 5G era. Now, it is also constrained everywhere, currently facing the terrible threat of a total blockade by the island of Taiwan, forced to survive on only half of the total global 5G orders.
Fair competition never existed; it is just a stable excuse for the strong to maintain their advantageous position. When the strong are no longer securely strong, one will find that they are the biggest old rogues.
No matter how much is said, in the end, it is about interest. Pablo's intentions were truly mercenary, but they were also effective methods.
However, nations still have to negotiate, which specifically means the distribution of interests.
How to make Trump pro-China?
There is a saying: if China were willing to provide Trump with land to open his family's chain of international hotels or real estate businesses in the prime locations of all of China's second- and third-tier cities, he would immediately transform into the most pro-China US president in American history, vigorously pushing the US to make all sorts of concessions when signing contracts with China.
A president is temporary, but money can last a lifetime—even for a family, for three generations. In the end, without enough money for political donations, he wouldn't even be able to become president.
Although the result is very likely that the contract has not yet been finished, and after Trump has made enough money, he gets cursed as a "traitor to America," loses his reelection, and just walks away. After all, he will be nearly 75 years old by then, so one really cannot blame him too much.
Politics is a game between nations. Every confrontation can involve interest conflicts on the scale of trillions of dollars. It is that dirty, and it is not rare for US presidents to die unexpectedly.
When all opponents have been suppressed, history is destined to be written by the victorious power holders. Therefore, while the Nobel Prize is famous, the Peace Prize is full of irony; compared to a selection promoting morality, it is more like a show for politicians. And who can hear the protests of soldiers from various countries who died under the fire of cannons?
At this moment, on the high platform, the host stepped out, and all the cameras aimed at her face.
"We have just received notice that Mr. Nakiri, one of the top four, has fallen into a coma due to a sudden situation and is undergoing emergency treatment," Cleopatra announced to the outside world.
"How can this be? Such a healthy and energetic old grandpa, and he just fell ill like that."
"Damn! Could it be that this assembly is rigged too! And here I thought this was the only truly fair competition! How could our country's Food Demon King just fall like this! There must be a conspiracy!"
"No, even if there is a conspiracy behind it, it doesn't make sense. Don't forget, the venue for this final is in Japan."
"Even if the body is trained to be strong, the internal organs cannot be trained. Could it be heart disease? A sudden heart attack?"
"Regardless, I hope the Lord blesses this old man. I hope I can have the chance to taste that gorgeous blowfish dish he makes."
Although the elder Nakiri was in a coma, his breathing was stable. Even though the type of poison was unknown, it was confirmed that his life was not in immediate danger, which settled things down a little.
"What is going on! Wasn't this hallway guarded by dozens of people!!!" Nakiri Erina turned around, glaring at the bodyguards behind her to demand an answer. After meeting Pablo and discovering his personality was flawed, Erina had assembled a professional bodyguard team from the family to protect her and her grandfather's safety.
"Yes! My deepest apologies, Miss! We guarded all entrances strictly; we saw no one enter Mr. Nakiri's lounge. The culprit could only have come from somewhere else," the lead bodyguard said, bowing his head with his subordinates to apologize, before raising his head to report.
"By the way, the poison... inspect everything suspicious in this room, then gather the people."
For the retainers holding this grand event, the world-class festival would not be ended just because one person had a problem.
"After discussion, the five judges have reached a unanimous decision: the competition will continue. We promise to provide the maximum support and guarantee for Mr. Nakiri's health," Cleopatra said.
Although this result was a bit cold-blooded, it was indeed within reason, and no one could find fault with it.
Thus, the chefs prepared their dishes. Shirou completed his in silence and passed Li Shuwen's test. Next was the elder of the Liu family. Now, it was Pablo's turn.
Bang! A large, full silver platter was placed unceremoniously on the table.
It was a vast collection of oysters, with oyster meat topped with truffles, caviar, sea urchin, ginseng, deer antler, camel hump... Famous tonic ingredients from various countries had been processed to form a potent, comprehensive tonic dish without any shortcomings, designed for virility and nourishment.
"How is my dish?" Pablo asked, crossing his arms and looking at the old man in sunglasses with a smile.
"Go up. Your cooking is qualified. Since someone has already been eliminated, there is no need to compare further. You have the ability, but you have gone down a wicked path. This old
man wanted you to lose with a clear understanding," Li Shuwen said, waving his hand in a deep voice.
"Hmph!" Pablo sneered and walked toward the tunnel leading upstairs. He was only one step away from victory. He thought to himself, 'Next time, you won't have a chance to say such things, you old fossil!'
Shirou blocked Pablo's path, asking:
"Wait! Pablo, do you really have nothing to do with this?"
"Huh? What are you talking about!" Pablo shrugged, putting on an expression of complete ignorance. He stared at the man in red with a treacherous smile and said, "If we're talking about suspicious people, you, the one always hiding your head and tail, are the most suspicious, aren't you?"
"Say what you want. I will definitely find evidence of the crime; you won't escape," Shirou looked at the famous French chef calmly and stated firmly.
"Hehehe, Masked Kid, you need evidence to speak, otherwise you're just slandering me," Pablo said, patting Shirou on the shoulder without a hint of fear, and walked away laughing.
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