The stream beside Star Dou trickled musically over granite stones, clear enough to reveal darting fish that shimmered under shards of light. But upstream, faint wisps of blood tinged the current red, a reminder that this was still the hunting ground of predators. The fish scattered instantly, burying into stone crevices at the faintest whiff of danger.
On the bank nearby, the Wuhun Hall "picnic" had begun.
"Yan, later go and catch some fish," Subei commanded, fingers already busy with his knife. "Bring back lotus leaves while you're at it. We'll steam the fish in them—lotus leaf fish."
"Yes, Your Highness," Yan replied dutifully, though his tone showed he was more fire than water. Still, he splashed into the stream without complaint.
Meanwhile, Subei took over the soul beast carcasses. His blade glinted once, twice—clean movements that split bone and tendon as though the creatures had been born designed for his dissection. Remove the tongue, fillet the muscle, lift the marrow. Each cut was fluid, precise, almost artistic.
Everyone paused to watch.
"Hiss…" Even Ghost Douluo's detached eyes widened. "Your Highness's blade work… far too refined. Is this… is your martial spirit a blade type?"
Bibi Dong interrupted, lips curving as she considered her disciple's lean hands. "No. Xiao Bei's martial spirit isn't sword-based at all. In truth, I even thought he was frail—lacking power to lift more than a chicken. Relying solely on summoning beasts to fight."
She tilted her head faintly, her voice half-mocking, half-pondering. "Yet just look… Perhaps I underestimated my good disciple."
In truth, she still thought of him as a delicate scholar: thin wrists, pale skin, too beautiful for rugged labor. What she didn't know… was that beneath his angel's face wrapped a body hard as steel. A contradiction.
Subei didn't explain. He simply smiled faintly and let his knife sing.
Hu Liena's eyes sparkled with stars as she leaned closer, voice filled with girlish awe. "North… you're amazing. I thought only the Food King of Spirit Hall could wield a kitchen knife like that. But compared to you, even he's inferior!"
She clapped her hands, tail practically wagging like a little fox.
And then she added recklessly, "Unlike Ghost Elder…"
"??"
Ghost's face went dark instantly, black lines practically scrawled over his mask. Saintess, why do you wound me so? I already humiliated myself pretending to butcher meat, and now you compare me to him?!
Subei chuckled. "Nana's right. Ghost Elder's cuts are ragged and thick, with too much fat. Try to roast it and the whole thing will taste like rancid grease. Completely uneatable."
He pointed lazily to the side, where one of Ghost's "plates" sat piled with lumps of fatty flesh and hard hide. It oozed unappetizing oil.
"I…," Ghost sputtered, grief stricken.
"Elder Ghost," Bibi Dong's voice was gentle but merciless, "Xiaobei speaks the truth. You need more practice."
"…"
Crack.
That was the sound of a Title Douluo's pride shattering.
Tears would have rolled if his body had them. Instead, the elder turned rigid, gave a stiff salute, then shot into the treeline like a broken-hearted crow. "I—I'll… patrol!"
His silhouette was nothing but loneliness on the horizon.
Yan winced. "Ai. Elder Ghost's face is really thin…"
As if to confirm the insult hit, Ghost's figure swayed mid-leap, almost tumbling from the branches.
…
Once the last cuts were done, the food began to take form. Substantial platters stacked: tender meat skewers lined with herbs, slices marinated simply, some fish wrapped neatly in leaves. The smell of spice, onion, and sesame oil spread thick in the breeze. Yan's fire burned charcoal crimson, giving the racks a glow.
Soon, vivid color filled the lawn—golden browns, glistening reds, crisp greens glistening from wild-picked fruit. Juices hissed over the heat, fat crackled loudly, and the aroma rolled out in waves like a spell of desire.
Tang San swallowed unconsciously. Even his training in Xuantian had trouble restraining his lust for food when it came to his Teacher's hand.
Hu Liena leaned into Subei, practically drooling, but still pretending composure. "Bei… when did you get so good at cooking too?" Her voice lower, almost teasing.
Subei winked. "Didn't I tell you already? I'm full of surprises."
Bibi Dong stood tall behind them, expression composed, handkerchief in her fingers. Yet when beads of sweat gathered on Subei's pale temple from the fire, her hand moved instinctively. She bent down, dabbed the cloth against his cheek, eyes drinking in his presence, then pressed the linen to her nose a beat too long—catching his faint fragrance.
A flicker of greed rose in her gaze. Pull back, Bibi Dong. He's still a child. Later. Hold it, later…
Out loud, her voice was calm as flowing water. "Who taught you this blade artistry? Few could dissect so precisely without years of practice."
Subei smiled, unbothered. "My father once introduced me to many hermit experts. Among them, a recluse chef. I picked up a little."
"Ah." Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed lightly. "So it was the legendary Heavenly Chef… Liu Angxing, perhaps? Rumors claimed him dead decades ago."
Subei simply nodded evasively. Whether he existed or not, it sounded good enough.
Hu Liena giggled, not caring about logic, only about her admiration.
Tang San, meanwhile, dragged vegetables closer as ordered—dutiful, obedient, trying to hide the way his heart swelled at every word from the Teacher's lips.
By dusk, the feast lay perfectly arrayed. Skewers glistened gold, vegetables gleamed fresh, the fish steamed in lotus leaves exhaled fragrant smoke.
A single bite, and the camp fell silent—crunch, chew, swallow—their eyes widening simultaneously.
Then chaos.
"This flavor—!!" Yan nearly shouted, tears filling his eyes. "Heavens, I could kneel for another bite!"
Tang San's pupils shook; even torture could not have cracked his discipline this way. He immediately engraved the taste into his heart, another holy proof of his Teacher's power.
Hu Liena moaned softly, face flushed, unconcerned if anyone misread the sound. "Bei… you're too perfect!"
And Bibi Dong herself, for all her composure, just smiled faintly with unshakable pride. Xiaobei, my Xiaobei… you dazzle even more than I dreamed.
Above them, night fell soft and warm. The first feast outside the forest became less a meal and more a ritual: a new memory, binding them all tighter around the boy with the angel's face and the chef's hands.