The God of Cuisine System – Ye Changqing was officially giving up. Two weeks ago, he had transmigrated into a world of cultivators, demon beasts, and immortal sects. Two weeks. And the System still hadn’t shown up. No System. No mysterious old man trapped in a ring. He wasn’t even an orphan. In a xianxia world, that left him with exactly nothing. And the cherry on top? In his past life, he had been a chef. A pretty successful one, actually. Years of grinding at the wok had earned him a respectable mid-tier restaurant. Then a gas explosion blew the place sky-high. He woke up here. Reincarnated as a chef. Again. Specifically: a kitchen-duty disciple at the foot of Divine Sword Peak — one of the thirty-six peaks of the Daoyi Sect. His job was to cook for the outer disciples. Except no outer disciple ever came. They had their own dining halls higher up the mountain. Why would anyone hike all the way down for plain peasant food? These people were chasing immortality.
Nobody wasted brain cells on lunch. Ye Changqing sat on the doorstep of his shabby little courtyard and stared at the morning sun. The original owner of this body had been the only son of a small-town merchant family. Doting parents. A grandfather who had once saved the life of a Daoyi Sect elder — and called in that favor to sneak the boy into the sect at fifteen. The talent test had been merciless. Outer disciple? Forget it. After a lot of pulling strings, the sect had agreed to take him on as a kitchen-duty disciple. The lowest of the low. A whole year of grinding had gotten the original body to entry-level Body Refinement. At this rate, he’d be lucky to hit Body Refinement Peak before dying of old age. Qi Sensing? Wouldn’t even smell it. The cultivation ladder went: Body Refinement → Qi Sensing → Channel Opening → Golden Core → Purple Mansion → Nascent Soul.
He hadn’t even crossed the doormat. “No System. No ring grandpa. Nobody trying to break off my engagement. Talent rated garbage.” Ye Changqing sighed. “Maybe I should just go home and farm my family’s ten thousand acres.” If he couldn’t be an immortal, being a rich landlord didn’t sound so bad. He had tried, in his own way. But cultivation cared about talent above everything. The sect elder who owed his grandfather the favor had checked in on him once or twice in the beginning. As Ye Changqing’s progress flatlined, the visits stopped. Getting him in the door had been the limit of that debt. Then a bell rang inside his skull. His whole body locked up. [Ding. System binding in progress.] He almost cried. “System. Introduce yourself.” He had read enough novels about this. Skip the small talk. [This system is the Strongest God of Cuisine System—] Ye Changqing’s jaw dropped. “…Try that again. Slowly. What kind of system did you say you were?” He had waited weeks.
And the universe had handed him a cooking system? This was a xianxia world. Demons walked the earth. Cultivators flattened mountains. And he was supposed to fight them with a wok? But as the System kept explaining, his expression slowly shifted. Yes — it was a cooking system. But it was a xianxia cooking system. Every dish that earned someone’s praise would reward him. And not in coupons. In talent. Bone root. Lifespan. Cultivation realm. [Strongest God of Cuisine System bound.] [Host: Ye Changqing.] [Identity: Daoyi Sect kitchen-duty disciple, Eastern Continent of the Haotu Realm.] [Cultivation: Entry-level Body Refinement.] [Renown: Unknown.] [Distributing starter pack…] [Acquired: Complete Haotu Realm Ingredient Encyclopedia.] [Acquired Recipe: Braised Noodles.] The System fell silent. Information flooded his mind. It took him a full quarter of an hour to digest it. The Haotu Realm wasn’t Earth. It crawled with demon beasts and spirit herbs — every one of which was, technically, an ingredient. A real chef had to know his materials. Now he did. And the recipe was a gift.
Owning the recipe meant he had already perfected it. Whatever he made would be unbeatable. He pulled up the recipe. [Braised Noodles. A simple, humble staple. Plain alkaline noodles paired with sauce stir-fried from Red-Striped Boar. Effect: mild physique strengthening.] Red-Striped Boar. He knew it. A borderline demon beast — barely magical, but its meat was prized even by mortal restaurants. And it had a physique-strengthening effect. His fingers twitched. He stood up and walked into the kitchen. The second he crossed the threshold, the world exploded with text. [Unremarkable Red-Striped Boar hind leg. From a sow, age five. Slaughtered yesterday afternoon.] [Unremarkable cucumber. Nothing special.] [Unremarkable green onion. Nothing special.] [Standard wok. Found anywhere.] [Standard cleaver. Found anywhere.] Anything cooking-related — he could read its quality at a glance. Ye Changqing stood frozen in the doorway, staring at his pantry.
Then a slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. He pulled down the cured boar leg and began chopping. The soul of braised noodles wasn’t the noodles. It was the sauce. The System rewarded him with more than just the recipe — it whispered timings into his mind as he worked. Now. Hotter. Add the wine. Lower the flame. Stir. A potful of fragrant minced pork sauce came together in minutes. Even Ye Changqing nodded at the smell. Then the noodles. Boil water. Drop the noodles. Three rounds of cold-water shocks for that springy chew. He plated up. Sauce. A scatter of spring onion. Done. And that was when he noticed the small girl standing in his courtyard. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Round cheeks still padded with baby fat. Big eyes locked onto the bowl in his hands like it was the meaning of life. “It smells amazing,” she whispered. “What is that?” “Braised noodles,” Ye Changqing said. “Also — you’re drooling.” She wiped her chin, mortified. “S-sorry! I couldn’t help it. It’s just— could I please have a bowl? Please?” Her eyes were glistening.
Like she might actually cry over a noodle dish. Ye Changqing smiled and held the bowl out. “I haven’t eaten yet. If you don’t mind—” The bowl vanished from his hands before he finished the sentence. She didn’t even mix the sauce. Just stabbed her chopsticks straight in and started eating. And still — “So good. So good. So good.” Ye Changqing’s brow furrowed. “Hold on. You’re doing it wrong. You have to mix the sauce through the noodles first.” He showed her. She copied the motion. The first proper bite went in. Her entire body went still. Then her eyes flashed — and the bowl was empty in seconds. “Slow down. Nobody’s stealing it.” He went back inside, smiling, and cooked another portion. When he came out, her bowl had been licked clean. Her eyes shot to the new bowl in his hands. Her cheeks went red. “Could I… please have another?” He laughed and handed her the second bowl. They sat side by side at the kitchen door, slurping noodles. He ate at a normal human pace. She did not. “So there is a faint physique-strengthening effect,” he murmured to himself, paying attention to his body.
“Subtle. You’d miss it if you weren’t looking.” The girl polished off bowl number two and patted her round little belly. “I don’t normally eat this much,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “Today was just— it was really, really good.” “Eat as much as you want.” “Can I come back tomorrow? And the day after? And every day?” “This is the Divine Sword Peak kitchen. Anyone from this peak can come whenever.” Her eyes went wide. So this was the kitchen. She’d been eating noodles for ten minutes and had no idea where she was. “Then it’s settled!” She bounced to her feet, beaming. “I’ll come every single day!” She was almost out the gate when she spun back around. “Oh! I’m Lu Youyou. Thank you for the noodles.” And then she was gone. The name meant nothing to Ye Changqing. But the System chimed. [Ding. Praise received from Lu Youyou. Progress: 1 / 100.] [Reward: +1 Talent. +1 Cultivation Realm.] Ye Changqing froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. One bowl. One praise. One point of talent. His body had taken an entire year to crawl from nothing to entry-level Body Refinement.
And he had just gained more talent in five minutes than most disciples earn in a decade. “Open status panel.” [Host: Ye Changqing.] [Identity: Daoyi Sect kitchen-duty disciple.] [Cultivation: Entry-level Body Refinement (81/100).] [Talent: Low Grade, Mid Tier (51/100).] [Bone Root: Low Grade, High Tier (30/1000).] [Comprehension: High Grade, Mid Tier (20/100000).] His comprehension was already off the charts — apparently a side effect of being a transmigrator. But comprehension alone was useless.
You could understand a cultivation manual perfectly and still be unable to cultivate it. What he needed was talent. Bone root. And both of those just went up. Ye Changqing stared down at the empty bowl Lu Youyou had left behind. Then he looked toward the courtyard gate. Lunch service was in two hours. And he had a feeling — a very deep, very wok-shaped feeling — that today was about to get loud. He stood up and walked back to the kitchen. “Today’s special,” he muttered, “is braised noodles.”