They kept eating.
Hundred-year ginsengs. Rare spirit mushrooms. Spirit fruits and leaves that glowed faintly under thentern light. Trays of precious herbs that would have driven ordinary disciples mad with envy.
Alex ate everything they pushed toward him. So did the other fatties.
He swallowed until his vision blurred. The rich spiritual energy surged through his
veins like fire. His head spun. His face flushed red. Heat rolled off his skin, and soon white steam curled from the top of his head as if he were a boiling kettle.
He felt drunk.
No-worse than drunk.
The more he forced himself to eat, the warmer Big Fatty and the others became. Their eyes softened. Their grins widened. They watched him like proud older brothers initiating a new recruit into a secret order.
By the end, they leaned back, pped their massive stomachs, and burst into boomingughter. The kitchen shook with it.
"Everyone,” Big Fatty First announced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "We follow tradition. Thest one to finish cooks. The rest go cultivate while the energy is still fresh in our bodies. Number Eight, it''s your job to tell Number Nine what to do."
"Yes, Brother!" Number Eight beamed, his face shining with satisfaction. Atst, someone ranked below him. Someone he could order around without being scolded.
One by one, Fatty Number One through Fatty Number Seven filed out of the kitchen. Their heavy footsteps faded down the corridor as they hurried off to cultivate, eager to absorb the surge of spiritual energy in their bodies.
The kitchen grew quiet.
Number Eight waited until thest of them disappeared from sight.
Then he slowly turned toward Alex.
"Number Nine," he said proudly, "other servant departments would kill to send one of their own into the Outer Disciple Sect. But us? We''d kill to make sure we stay right here in this kitchen. Who wants to go there anyway? What''s so great about being an Outer Disciple, huh?"
His chest puffed out with pride.
“Ninth Brother, I''ll tell you the truth. Our cultivation levels? Strong enough long ago to enter the Outer Sect. Some of us could even step into the Inner Sect if we wanted.” He lowered his voice slightly. "But we prefer to hide our real strength.”
He picked up a five-hundred-year-old ginseng root and waved it casually.
"Look at this," Number Eight said, holding up the ginseng root like a trophy. "Outer Sect disciples would kill for one bite of this treasure. Just one bite. And here we are, chewing it like it''s amon r****h.”
He snapped off a thin rootlet with his fingers and tossed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, deliberately, making sure Alex watched every second. Then he swallowed and thrust the thick root toward him.
"Do we look scared?" His eyes narrowed. "Now go on. Eat it."
Alex''s stomach churned. The heat from the herbs was still burning through his veins. His head felt heavy, his body swollen with energy.
“Elder Brother..... I''m full," he said hoarsely, his voice strained. "I really can''t eat another bite-"
"Ninth." Number Eight''s tone turned firm. "You''re too skinny. So skinny the girls in the sect won''t even look at you. In our Wudang Sect, they like men like us— stalwart, solid, plump!” He let out a thunderous burp and grinned.
He leaned closer. "You want to know why Wang Junhao wanted to be the core here?” His eyes gleamed. “Because we control the rare herbs. Every disciple is ready to kill for this position."
He tapped the ginseng meaningfully against Alex''s chest.
"But not everyone can hold it."
The fatties grinned.
And Alex, sweating, dizzy, and burning from the inside out, realized this kitchen wasn''t a joke.
It was power.
"Ninth."
Number Eight handed him a thin, worn book. "Read this. It exins how to refine a Food Pill for cultivators. You can handle it, right?"
Alex took the manual and flipped it open.
The instructions were clear. A Food Pill was designed for cultivators who entered long periods of meditation. Instead of eating daily meals, they could swallow one pill. It contained concentrated spiritual nutrients—refined essence from herbs and spirit nts-enough to sustain the body while the mind focused on cultivation.
For ordinary cooks, this would beplex work.
For Alex, who carried the title God Hand, it was nothing more than a simple trick.
"No problem, Brother Eight," he said calmly. "Before I came here, I worked with high-grade cooking ingredients. Something like this isn''t difficult."
Number Eight''s face broke into a wide, satisfied grin.
"Good. Then I''ll leave it to you. I need to cultivate too."
Without another word, he hurried off toward his room, robes fluttering behind him, leaving Alex alone in the kitchen.
Alex understood exactly why they rushed away. They had just devoured a mountain of rare herbs and century-old ginseng. If they didn''t circte and absorb that energy immediately, it would dissipate into the air and go to waste.
He set the book aside and sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor.
Back in Prussia, he had already studied multiple cultivation arts. With the assistance
of Mother Al helping him analyze andpare ancient techniques, he had
examined countless systems. He had tested their strengths, mapped their weaknesses, and refined their principles.
Among all of them, one stood above the rest.
The Royal Cultivation Arts.
It was the technique he had acquired at auction.
Rare. Restricted. Forbidden to most.
Even if someone managed to obtain the manual, it didn''t mean they could practice
it. The method rejected unqualified bodies. It demanded a specific lineage, a specific constitution.
Only royal blood could truly wield it.
That was why the bidding had been ruthless. That was why the price had climbed
into madness. Most buyers believed it was nothing more than a collector''s relic-an ancient text no one could activate.
But when Alex practiced it, there was no resistance.
No bacsh.
No rejection.
The technique moved through him as naturally as breath, as if his veins had been designed for it.
He inhaled slowly and focused.
The surrounding spiritual energy responded immediately. Not elemental energy tied
to fire or water or metal-but pure, neutral force.
Raw origin energy that couldter be shaped into any element he desired.
It flowed toward him without resistance.
The kitchen air trembled faintly. The lingering essence from the rare herbs he had eaten ginseng, spirit fruits, medicinal roots-was drawn out and pulled toward his cells like iron to a ma.
Origin energy.
Pure. Clean. Untainted.
Alex only needed half an hour.
In that short time, he absorbed every trace of refined spiritual essence that still lingered in his body. Not a single strand was wasted. He pulled it into his cells.
In the past, Alex had been taught to gather all energy into a single core-pressing it tightly at the center of his being.
The Royal Family Cultivation Art was different.
It did not confine energy to one center. It flooded the entire body. Every cell absorbed it. Every vein carried it. Every strand of muscle transformed into a vessel
of pure origin force. The whole body became the core.
And for Alex, the method felt effortless.
Natural.
As if his body had been waiting for it.
When he opened his eyes, his breathing was steady and deep. His limbs felt light.
His mind was clear. The heaviness from overeating was gone. In its ce was a sharp, vibrant strength humming beneath his skin.
He stood and turned his attention back to the herbsid out across the kitchen tables.
Carefully, he reread the manual on how to refine the Food Pill. Every step. Every measurement. Every temperature instruction.
The nano bots at his neck-Gaia-activated quietly. Faint data streams flickered across his vision. Calctions began instantly.
"There are ten optimized processing sequences for these food pills," Gaia''s calm voice said inside his mind. "Each method surpasses the book''s instructions. We can produce Food Pills with approximately two thousand percent greater efficiency and potency."
Alex wasn''t surprised.
He already understood the w in the manual. Some herbs neutralized each other ifbined improperly.
Others lost most of their essence if heated at the wrong stage. A few required cooling cycles before integration. The book''s method was crude—wasteful.
With his own knowledge,bined with Gaia''s analysis and the cultivation texts he
had studied in Prussia and Xia, a new form took shape.
A superior form.
If followed precisely, each pill would be worth at least twenty times more than the
standard version described in the manual.
Alex didn''t hesitate.
He divided the ingredients into
precise portions. He adjusted the me carefully, controlling temperature by instinct and calction. Some herbs he roasted
slowly. Others he processed with
steam.
A few he chilled before grinding them into fine powder.
Nothing was rushed. Nothing was wasted.
He worked without pause.
Day turned into night.
Night returned to day.
Three days and three nights passed inside that kitchen.
Only when the final batch was sealed did Alex allow himself to sit back. Exhaustion
finally crept in. He leaned against the corner wall and closed his eyes, falling asleep where he sat.
He had no intention of returning to his room.
Not yet.
Wang Junhao was still out there. And Alex had no desire to give that man an easy
target.
On the third morning, Big Fatty First slowly opened his eyes afterpleting his
cultivation.
He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and headed toward the kitchen.
The moment he stepped inside, he noticed Alex sleeping in the corner.
He frowned slightly.
Then his gaze shifted to the shelves.
He walked over to inspect the finished Food Pills.
His expression froze.
Based on the maximum yield of the ingredients, they should have produced three
thousand pills at most.
Three thousand-that was the limit.
But stacked neatly before him were not three thousand.
There were nearly four thousand.
Big Fatty First stared at them, stunned.
His face darkened as he stared at the mountain of pills.
Too many.
If the output exceeded the ingredient
limit, the quality would drop. The spiritual energy would thin out. The Quter seet disciples would notice immediately. And when they''ined, the me wouldnd
ve
on the kitchen.
His jaw tightened.
"That damned Eight Fatty," he growled. "How could he let the Ninth work alone? If
the quality is ruined, I''ll skin him alive."
He snatched one of the Food Pills from the tray and swallowed it without hesitation.
The moment it dissolved on his tongue, his body stiffened.
He froze.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he grabbed a second pill and swallowed it.
His eyes widened further.
Still silent.
He reached out at random, pulling pills from different batches across the shelves.
One after another, he tested them.
Every single time, the result was the same.
No fluctuation. No weakening. No dilution.
The quality remained identical across the entire batch-four thousand pills, each
one as potent as the next. The spiritual energy inside them was dense, stable, perfectly bnced.
Not a single pill fell below standard.
Big Fatty First''s throat went dry.
This wasn''t luck. It wasn''t an ident.
This was the work of a master.
Shock.
By then, Fatty Number Two and Fatty Number Three had entered the kitchen,
rubbing their eyes from cultivation.
Number Two stared at the shelves. "Four thousand? That''s impossible. If the
quantity increased, the quality must''ve dropped."
"This is trouble," Number Three added grimly.
“Shut up,” Big Fatty First snapped.
He grabbed two pills and shoved one into each of their hands. “Eat before you open
your mouths."
They exchanged a look, then swallowed.
The change was instant.
Both men went rigid.
Their eyes snapped wide open.
A heavy, concentrated wave of spiritual energy surged through their meridians,
clean and explosive. It was dense. Pure. Far stronger than anything the kitchen had ever produced.
One by one, the other fatties rushed in, drawn by themotion. Each took a pill.
Each reacted the same way-shock, disbelief, stunned silence.
Finally, Number Eight stumbled in.
He took one look at the shelves and nearly choked. "No way! How could Ninth
produce four thousand? This is going to be a disaster!"
Number Eight nced at Big Fatty First, then immediately bowed deeply, his back
nearly parallel to the floor.
"Senior Brother..." His voice trembled
despite his attempt to stay steady.
"Ninth said he knew how to refine Food Pills. He did simr work in Xia.
I believed him, to
Fallowed him
take full responsibility."
He swallowed hard, not daring to lift his head. "It was my responsibility. If there''s
punishment, I ept it."
Big Fatty First didn''t answer.
Instead, he grabbed a pill and shoved it into Number Eight''s hand.
"Chew."
Number Eight obeyed.
The second the pill dissolved, his entire expression changed. His body trembled slightly as the energy burst through him.
“This... this energy..." Number Eight''s voice trembled as he stared at the pill in his
palm. “It''s at least ten times stronger than the usual Food Pills."
Big Fatty First stepped forward, his expression grave and controlled.
"It''s twenty," he said tly.
There was no exaggeration in his tone. No excitement. Just certainty.
"Twenty times denser. Twenty times purer. The cirction is cleaner. The absorption
rate is higher. There''s almost no waste."
He stared at the shelves in disbelief. "How did he do this with the same ingredients?
It should have been impossible."
Silence fell over the kitchen.
All eight fatties slowly turned their heads.
In the corner, Alex was still asleep, leaning against the wall, his breathing steady
and calm.
They looked at him differently now.
Not as a skinny junior.
Not as a new recruit.
They were staring at something else entirely.
A monster in the kitchen.