Chapter 362

Although red tea and green tea are made from the same tea leaves, their flavors are vastly different; green tea is cooling, making it ideal for refreshing drinks to beat the heat, and when paired with fruit, it can even be turned into fruit tea.

With this craft, we can also greatly alleviate the shortage of peach blossom wine and peach juice.

The Three Flavors True Fire blazed beneath the iron pot as Chen Nuo, with sharp-angled hands, gripped an iron shovel and stirred; the green tea was soon finished.

Suddenly, a golden pillar of light erupted in the great hall, bathing the roof in gold.

Had this scene been witnessed by outsiders, it would surely have prompted mass prostration, yet Chen Nuo showed no reaction whatsoever, as if nothing in this world could compare to the tea leaves in his hand.

Chen Nuo tossed the tea leaves in the wok, having long grown accustomed to such occurrences.

He didn't even need to think—after all, he had already witnessed the power of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall; the commotion from the great hall must mean those four immortal maidens had eaten it and awakened their divine abilities.

After all, they are all immortals of considerable cultivation; even the Three Demons, after eating it, could awaken divine abilities, so these four maidens naturally posed no exception.

However, the incident sparked by Buddha Jumps Over the Wall was far from over.

Lingtai Mountain, inside the great hall.

Yang Jian, the Erlang God, was eating when he glanced toward the distant Buddhist disciples eager to prove themselves, letting out a derisive snort.

Zhenyuanzi was also eating when he heard Yang Jian's laugh and turned his head, saying, "Eating your meal properly—what are you laughing at?"

"Look."

Yang Jian tilted his chin toward that direction.

Zhenyuanzi followed Yang Jian's gaze and looked over, saying, "Eh.

This isn't…"

"Before, I thought they were someone of note, but now it seems they're not even as good as ordinary mortals."

Yang Jian expressed deep disdain for their behavior, saying, "Their current state? They're practically on the verge of breaking their precepts."

Zhenyuanzi, too, secretly looked down on those who came over just for a few dishes, but some things couldn't be spoken openly, so he smiled and said, "After all, we usually just eat vegetable leaves—normally unseen, so it's fine. Now that we're in the same great hall, smelling the aroma and coming over is nothing more than mere curiosity."

"Curiosity?"

Yang Jian sounded as if he'd heard a joke: "This Buddhist feast isn't the first time it's been held—why hadn't I seen them like this before? I think they shouldn't be sitting in this great hall at all; instead, they should go to the Underworld to become hungry ghosts."

Yang Jian's words were vivid—these Buddhist disciples, who had never before eaten meat, wandered about yet couldn't help craning their necks, truly resembling hungry ghosts.

Though Yang Jian's voice wasn't loud, he made no effort to lower it, so many still heard him.

Some immortals, out of respect for the Buddhist disciples, said nothing and merely bowed their heads, shoving several mouthfuls of vegetables into their mouths.

Others couldn't hold back and let out low chuckles.

Originally, some Buddhist disciples nearby, upon hearing Yang Jian's words, grew angry and wanted to walk over to argue with him, but their companions held them back.

After all, this wasn't a glorious matter; besides, although Yang Jian's words were somewhat excessive, they were indeed wandering about among the immortals, and if this were truly spoken of, they'd be in the wrong—so they slunk back, returning to this side.

"How did you come back?"

As the Buddhist disciples who had just gone to the immortals' table sat down, someone nearby asked.

He had originally wanted to complain to his companion about Yang Jian, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he didn't know what to say.

Discussing this matter would only put them in the wrong, and it was truly embarrassing to bring up—so he found an excuse: "I just saw that dishes were being served over here."

"Oh, I see."

The companion picked up a long, noodle-like dish with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth.

"Is this noodles?"

The returning Buddhist disciple, seeing his companion's food, looked surprised: "This is going too far—no meat is bad enough, but now you're serving us noodles? This is utterly bullying and excessive."

"No, no, no—this isn't noodles."

The companion quickly explained, "This is called liangpi."

"Liangpi?"

The Buddhist disciple picked up a chopstickful from the plate: "No matter how I look at it, it's hardly different from noodles."

"You dense fool—just taste it and you'll know."

Sun Wukong, fed up with the stuffiness of the Imperial Kitchen, came out for fresh air and, upon arrival, overheard the two Buddhist disciples chatting nearby.

"This is liangpi I rolled and washed for an hour,

and you call it noodles and dismiss it? If you want to eat, eat; if not, have something else—I, Old Grandson, don't even care whether you eat it or not."

"No, no, no, Great Chef Sun Wukong—I just haven't seen much, that's all."

The Buddhist disciple hastily picked up some liangpi and put it in his mouth: "I just have a bit of a sharp tongue—I'm not saying your cooking is bad."

"Hmph, cooking for you lot is already troublesome enough, and besides, you not eating meat isn't because I forbid it—it's clearly your own dietary restriction, yet you dare blame me for not giving you meat?"

Sun Wukong bared his teeth at the Buddhist disciple.

The Buddhist disciple froze—no sooner had the liangpi entered his mouth than he was startled.

Cool and smooth, blended with the fragrance of sesame and chili oil, it was utterly addictive.

He picked up another chopstickful, this time catching the finely sliced cucumber strips—refreshing, while the original chili oil was fiercely spicy.

Delicious, yes, but too spicy—I hadn't expected these cucumber strips to so perfectly balance the chili's heat while still retaining their own fresh aroma.

How could something this delicious exist!

Earlier, I'd envied the neighboring immortals who got to eat meat, but after eating this liangpi, I suddenly stopped envying them—why eat meat when I have this? Those immortals who daily stuff their faces with greasy food might not even taste the true flavor of this liangpi.

"This liangpi is just too delicious!"

The Buddhist disciple couldn't help but let out an exclamation of praise.

Sun Wukong, who had still been angry, heard the praise and his irritation faded somewhat; he let out a snort from his nostrils: "At least you've got some sense."

But every dish has its limit—liangpi was served and instantly snatched up; the poor Buddhist disciple, arriving late, managed only a few bites before it was all gone.

So he looked pitifully at Sun Wukong: "Great Chef Sun Wukong, could you please serve another portion of liangpi?"

"Of course."

Sun Wukong said the two words, paused slightly, looked at the other's delighted expression, and coldly, mercilessly spat out the final two words: "Cannot."

Great Chef Sun Wukong

That person entreated, "I still haven't eaten much here."

"That also cannot."

Sun Wukong gave him a white eye, "There are still dishes behind, now let you eat your fill, what to eat behind?"

Thinking of the dishes behind, that person sat at the table and began to expect again.

That Buddhist disciple's such an unambitious look made Sun Wukong disdainful, but looking down on others is also praising oneself, so he said nothing and went to the Imperial Kitchen to prepare the next dish.

After Sun Wukong left, that Buddhist disciple's companion asked, "It's just a chef, what are you afraid of him doing?"

"I am not afraid of him."

The Buddhist disciple said.

"You are still not afraid of him."

The companion expressed skepticism, "Afraid then afraid, don't look at this Sun Wukong being just a chef, his cultivation is not low, even if we two join forces we still cannot beat him."