Chapter 132: Self-Created? Imagination Skill!!

A day's work quietly ended amidst the busyness.

As Wang Jian had said before, the workload had indeed doubled.

The task of incinerating corpses became extremely heavy; one E Corpse after another was queued up and sent into the incinerator. Although it couldn't be called an endless stream, it was enough to keep people busy beyond measure, overwhelmed.

To the extent that even Feng Mu, this old "chef," was so busy his hands never left the shovel; the meat on the "wok spatula" wasn't stir-fried evenly enough, juices and oil splattered everywhere, and some parts were even scorched black, a burnt smell assaulting the nose.

Feng Mu did not delve deeply into the reasons behind the increase in E Corpse numbers; he simply honestly completed a day's work.

During the process of washing the iron shovel, his movements were skilled and calm; however, just as he wiped dry the last water drop and prepared to finish work, an accident appeared before his eyes.

In the Normal Skill Column of the system panel, a brand new skill icon had actually condensed — 【Culinary Arts Junior (1/100)】.

"System, are you sure you didn't make a mistake? This so-called Culinary Arts, is it really the kind of Culinary Arts I think it is?"

Feng Mu's pupils suddenly shrank, a wave of incredulous shock surging in his heart.

Immediately after, his Nao Hai seemed to be washed by an invisible force, pouring in a series of detailed knowledge about cooking: how to control heat, how to stir-fry, especially various techniques for stir-frying meat. Although this knowledge was basic, it was exceptionally detailed.

Only, in the memories, every time meat was stir-fried, the meat in those images was unbearable to look at directly.

After digesting this sudden information impact, Feng Mu silently made a determination in his heart:

"Although this knowledge looks quite professional, I absolutely will not use this Culinary Arts to cook. At the very least, I absolutely will not eat a single bite of food I make with this Culinary Arts."

For Feng Mu, the appearance of the Culinary Arts skill was both frightening and delightfully surprising.

The Culinary Arts skill isn't important, but seeing a leopard through a tube, Feng Mu had already sensed the deep implication behind this skill:

The system's Skill Generation Mechanism is not merely based on learning and imitating manuals; it can actually create out of thin air, and it's ridiculously blind creation!!!

Incinerating corpses and Culinary Arts — in the eyes of ordinary people, these two seem to have absolutely nothing to do with each other.

If one forcibly claims there is some connection between them, it's simply absurd, like having one's brain bitten by an E Corpse.

But if one flatly denies any connection between them, it seems to lack just a tiny bit of... Imagination?

Feng Mu froze for an instant, then his eyes revealed a light of sudden realization:

"That's right, it's Imagination, it's imagination?!!"

"No need for real-world logical connections, no need for scientific basis; just a thread of imagined similarity, and the system might, through some judgment, blindly auto-create a corresponding Absurd Skill?"

"Hmm, Culinary Arts as a technique has no absurdity in itself. But if linked with incinerating corpses, it is undoubtedly an extremely bizarre Absurd Skill."

"Since this skill generation jumped from incinerating corpses to Culinary Arts, then next time, who knows what kind of skill it might derive from where? It might really create some ridiculously absurd skills......"

"For example, if I pick up chopsticks to catch flies, will the system generate a unique sword art based on that? And if I don't catch flies, but instead choose to wrap a thread around a chopstick and throw it, then will the system directly go crazy and auto-create... Flying Sword Technique?"

Riding a bicycle away from the incineration plant, Feng Mu's mind was full of strange, unscientific ideas all the way.

Suddenly, he had a kind of happy worry.

"So, should I continue learning and cultivating various manuals step by step, or should I just let my imagination fly and let the system blindly auto-create?"

The former is like carefully cultivated farmland; what seeds you sow, you harvest what fruits. It can provide continuous and stable output, with no unexpected twists, nor too great surprises.

The latter is more like a dog planner's card game; you never know what you'll draw next. It could be a hand full of Trash Cards, or even a pile of "Thank You for Playing" empty prizes.

But who can guarantee that among countless attempts, there won't be a sudden Luck Explosion, drawing the dreamed-of SSR-grade grand prize?

"What a worry, sigh." Feng Mu let out a long sigh.

The mount under his buttocks seemed to sense its master's worry, chugging and making a harsh turning sound.

After a long while, Feng Mu appeared at the gate of Douqiong Martial Hall. He looked up at that signboard which had been repaired and re-hung, walked into the front yard, and his gaze immediately fell on that weathered Withered Tree in the center of the courtyard.

At the Root of the Withered Tree, a patch of newly turned soil was slightly mounded, as if carefully turned over by someone, applied with a layer of life-nourishing fertilizer, emitting a faint earthy smell.

Feng Mu stepped over the Threshold of the Dojo, his gaze first falling on the Front Desk, where Hong Ya was squatting, yawning, lazily chewing rice on one side, quietly enjoying a moment of leisure on the other.

Then, his gaze lightly shifted, falling on the Training Hall Center, on those disciples who, although limited in talent and ordinary in Bone Quality, still gave full effort, sweat rolling down, as they faced various apparatus and strove to display their respective Martial Techniques.

He faintly had an answer in his heart: "I want both. Not wanting to become a corpse buried under the Withered Tree, I must progress at all times, always have output; but if I don't want to be mediocre and end up trampled underfoot by even more terrifying monsters and freaks, I must also draw cards, take a gamble, turn a bicycle into a motorcycle."

"Actually, I've always been doing it this way, just like my choice to Eat Iron — Pig Iron must be eaten continuously, E Iron must also be swallowed and digested by racking my brains."

"The only problem is, energy will be dispersed, time won't be enough. Then I can only think of ways to seize more Skill Points, to crazily irrigate the fruits, and also....."

"From tomorrow, no, from tonight, I'll just sleep 3 hours, no, 2 and a half hours."

"Every day further compress sleep time, squeeze time and energy like a sponge, squeeze, squeeze again, squeeze once more, not resting until the last drop of surplus moisture is wrung dry."

A ruthless glint flashed in Feng Mu's eyes, not ruthlessness toward others, but a near-cruel, exacting ferocity toward himself.

"Junior Brother, you're back. Here, your rice is here, I locked it for you, so Senior Brother wouldn't steal it."

Hong Ya looked up and saw Feng Mu walking in. She quickly reached out, tightly grasping his wrist, affectionately pulling him toward the Front Desk. She took out that key she always kept close to her body from under her clothes, nimbly unlocking the locked clasp on the cabinet.

Inside the cabinet sat a bulging Insulated Bucket, filled to the brim with tempting dishes.

As the Insulated Bucket lid slowly opened, a wave of steam rose, and a fragrant rice aroma instantly permeated the air.

Feng Mu unceremoniously hugged the Insulated Bucket and began to wolf swallow tiger swallow, every bite eaten with relish, the corners of his mouth glistening with oil.

Obviously, no worry can compare to the importance of eating.

While eating, Hong Ya said: "Junior Brother, you'd better stay in the Martial Arts Hall from now on. That way, three meals a day can all be guaranteed to keep up with nutrition. Master said, the most important thing in Martial Arts is to eat well, otherwise you'll practice yourself to death."

Feng Mu nodded lightly. He had long considered this suggestion, and replied: "Indeed, it's just that the Martial Arts Hall is some distance from the Incineration Plant, so going to work is indeed not very convenient."

Hearing this, Hong Ya said: "Oh, right. Master asked about you this morning too. He specifically instructed that you quit the Incineration Plant job, either stay at the Martial Arts Hall to help me manage together, or let Senior Brother or Second Senior Sister help you find a suitable job."

Feng Mu froze for a moment, then nodded again. How to put it, could this old master be the roundworm in his own stomach, to have seen through his thoughts in advance? And quite considerate too.

End of Chapter