Chapter 980: Etched into the Soul—The Nightmare Arrives

Dou Da Biao Bao collapsed on the ground, growing more desperate with every word he heard.

Money can reach the gods!

And they were all ordinary people, living in the mundane world, their paths naturally mundane.

His Biao Bao path was entirely suppressed by that man’s Divine Path; the Insect King, driven by greed, fell into it; Yang the Scholar, though possessing refined bones, his elegance still only swayed precariously upon the mundane.

Master Bei was the one among them with the highest cultivation and the deepest path.

Her path lay beyond the reach of the Money Path.

But the Divine Path was too absolute in its suppression of practitioners like them, rooted in the mundane world! Just one hundred thousand taels of silver bought away all of Master Bei’s foundations in this world.

This was not because Master Bei was weak, but because paths rooted in human Zhidao were simply unable to resist the Divine Path, which struck straight at the root of humanity.

Even if Master Bei lost this round, she could calmly say: “This is not my defeat. It is humanity that lost! The world’s delicacies, fragrances, righteousness, and beauty have all been defeated by money!”

Dou Da Biao Bao held his breath for a long time, then sighed, seeing the Divine Daoist expose his weakness: “Master Bei! Try it!”

“As he said, only poison can counter poison, only demon can subdue demon! I know you, Master Bei, would never let go of all the beautiful memories you created, all the culinary imprints you left in this world. Then you must fight him!”

Yang the Scholar opened his mouth, but the words of Quanshuo never left his lips.

For he saw Master Bei’s hand gripping the iron pot trembling slightly—he knew that denying her lifelong dedication, denying her culinary Dao, was harder than killing her.

He could not bear to torment the kind Master Bei.

Master Bei summoned fire with internal strength; Dou Da Biao Bao built a stove and placed the iron pot atop it.

Master Bei placed her hand on the iron pot, sensing the heat—then suddenly opened her eyes, and in an instant, all her wrinkles smoothed away, all her gray-white hair turned jet black.

In that moment, time seemed to reverse upon her.

“Dark Cuisine—Yi Ya’s Kitchen!”

Master Bei drew her cleaver, sliced off a piece of her own flesh—translucent, free of a single drop of impure blood—and with supreme culinary Dao, adjusted her own state into the most perfectly edible flesh of Dark Cuisine.

A chef is the one who understands ingredients best.

Therefore, the finest ingredient must come from the chef himself.

No matter how meticulously selected the meat, when slaughtered, it still carries resentment; its life’s essence was never meant for human consumption. Only a chef—only the chef himself—can offer absolute devotion.

This was the truth Lingwu ed by Yi Ya, the Master of Dark Cuisine, which Master Bei could never endorse—the Cooking of Oneself.

But the darker the practitioners of Dark Cuisine, the more selfish they are; they cannot achieve this absolute devotion to the culinary Dao, and thus can never complete this Dark Cuisine existing only in theory.

“Emotions have flavor—joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness before slaughter affect the texture of the meat!”

“What we taste originates from bodily perception; thus, the subtle substances generated within the body by emotion are the most essential, fundamental seasoning… hormones! I added hormones!”

“Dopamine—pump it into the flesh! Human hormones! You must live inside this dish!”

“True Dark Cuisine is to conquer your flesh with my flesh…”

“When light falls into darkness, it becomes darker than darkness itself!”

“What humans need for nourishment is naturally human—so eating humans is the most nourishing!”

“Vegetarians are weak and powerless; meat-eaters are reckless and foolish; only those who eat humans become strong!”

“Living in this world, we must recognize: some survive by eating humans—no, not some, but most, every single person, everyone wants to eat humans; only the weak cannot capture others. Human history is the history of eating one’s own kind!”

At this moment, the fallen Master Bei shattered the lifelong imprint that bound her, and in the endless self-offering, the ritual of self-sacrifice to the culinary Dao, she finally glimpsed the faintest trace of the Ultimate Flavor.

That dish—the Divine Flesh—offered by the Master of Xuanzhen Sect!

So this is it. So this is it!

It was the flesh of the Tai Sui—that original flesh from which we were created.

The ultimate flavor of the mortal world arises from the primal longing of life itself!

The Master of Xuanzhen Sect did not understand cooking; what he gave Master Bei was not the absolute flavor blending all mortal delicacies, but the primal longing—etched into humanity’s most fundamental core.

It was the primal longing bestowed upon life by Ming Zun and Ding Mu when they created humanity.

It was milk!

It was blood…

It was flesh…

The pinnacle of Dark Cuisine—Divine Flesh!

Master Bei’s entire body erupted in brilliant light; every inch of her flesh returned to its origin, gradually turning to earth—the earth that holds all life—then the earth transformed into flesh, purest flesh, brimming with all life, saturated with all vitality.

“Reverse Proving the Tai Sui?”

For the first time, the Divine Daoist frowned; for the first time, his tone wavered.

This was utterly beyond his expectations.

A chef, cooking, suddenly burst into flame—already absurd—but then, not only did she burn, she offered herself infinitely, performing a ritual that sacrificed herself to the Dao, and under its blessing, inexplicably attained enlightenment, beginning to return to origin.

The transformation of flesh into earth was clearly the demonic “Creation of Yellow Earth Body.”

And the earth transforming into flesh—damn it, that flesh stirred a hunger deep within the Divine Daoist’s very life-source.

Hunger!

A tide of hunger surged from the deepest depths of flesh, from the most stubborn instinct of the body.

It crashed wave after wave against the Divine Daoist’s reason.

Reason? How can I be reasonable?

Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!

As if he had starved for countless years, every fiber of his flesh seemed to gain sentience—each inch yearned to devour Master Bei, bathed in golden light. Beside him, Dou Da Biao Bao swallowed hard, his eyes filled with infinite hunger as he stared at Master Bei, every inch of her flesh glowing golden, transformed into the original flesh of creation.

“Black Tai Sui!”

The Divine Daoist roared.

“You are transforming into Black Tai Sui!”

“Stop!”

“Master Bei, you’ve sunk too deep into demonic ways! This is not a demonic path you should comprehend—it’s too demonic! Too demonic! I’ve lost! I’m losing! Why? Why does your culinary path manifest such terrifying demonic transformation? Is the end of cooking truly this dark?”

The Divine Daoist wept uncontrollably—before hunger, before humanity’s most essential desire, the Path of Money was utterly powerless.

Yang the Scholar also cried out: “Too dark! Master Bei, stop! I think this is enough! This Dark Cuisine has already defeated him! Don’t go any darker!”

Offering!

Offering!

The supreme secret of Light Cuisine is to offer oneself with boundless devotion to all!

Hunger!

Devour!

The pinnacle of Dark Cuisine is to awaken humanity’s strongest, most primal appetite…

“With my supreme culinary heart, transform! Become alive! Pour my devotion, all my understanding and insight into the culinary Dao, into this dish—my emotions, my all, my everything. True cuisine must offer all of oneself.”

Following the imprint etched deepest in her memory, the flavor no force could erase.

Master Bei finally touched the deepest core of Qian Chen’s unintentional dish—the bone-deep demonic nature.

To uphold justice, to stop the Divine Daoist from seizing the path to immortality, Master Bei had been forced to abandon her dedication to cooking—yet in that instant, she was utterly captured by the demonic imprint, and according to its mark, offered a part of herself. Suddenly, the radiant light collapsed inward; the lid of the pot closed; the luminous glow born of life’s perfection, of flesh transformed into its most perfect state, vanished into the pot.

On Master Bei’s body, not a single scar remained—as if all wounds had healed in that state.

Only the dish in the pot reminded them that none of this was illusion.

The Divine Daoist’s body trembled slightly; he forced himself to calm.

Master Bei lifted the bowl of Yangchun Noodles and slowly ate it—the fifty years of a hundred flavors, the smoke of mortal life, mingled with joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, flooded her mouth—and without realizing it, tears streamed down her face!

Emerging from the demonic culinary path, Master Bei pressed her hand against the iron pot and shook her head: “I took the wrong path… Don’t eat…”

But the Divine Daoist could no longer control himself—his appetite had become a vast shadow, fully devouring him, forming a demonic silhouette behind him.

His path receded, condensing into an ancient copper coin that fell into the shadow’s hand.

The Divine Daoist’s hand, uncontrollable, lifted the pot lid.

The translucent, divine flesh—like the flesh of gods—emitted divine radiance, illuminating everything with clarity.

The Divine Daoist picked up a chopstick, trembling, and placed the translucent, flawless jade-like Divine Flesh into his mouth—in that instant, the demonic silhouette behind him fully devoured him; the Divine Daoist felt himself falling into a giant mouth.

The satisfaction of appetite brought supreme transcendence.

The impact of the ultimate flavor lifted his spirit into an unimaginable realm—his soul transformed into pure yang.

But immediately after, all desires covered by the ultimate flavor were stripped away; all his desires merged into the phantom copper coin, gripped by the demonic silhouette behind him.

“Who? Who taught you this dish?”

The Divine Daoist completely lost composure—he had lost utterly…

Master Bei whispered: “This dish is the imprint left in my memory by the Master of Xuanzhen Sect—not born from me, but… after I ate it, I replicated it with supreme culinary devotion, transforming myself into that dish.”

“So you did not lose to me—you lost to the Master of Xuanzhen Sect!”

“Master of Xuanzhen Sect!”

The Divine Daoist spoke slowly, each word deliberate, finally acknowledging this figure who, though prominent in the tale, had never been taken seriously by the Tai Sui Alliance: “Who is he?”

Master Bei recalled the Master of Xuanzhen Sect’s self-introduction and said slowly: “He calls himself Qian Chen…”

In that instant, the Divine Daoist was struck as if by a primordial divine thunder—lightning pierced his mind, flowed through his entire body; he stared in disbelief—those words, like a nightmare etched into bone and inscribed upon his true spirit, struck him from a corner he had never imagined.

The demonic silhouette behind him slowly turned, revealing Qian Chen’s contemptuous gaze…