The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 167: General Chef

Wu Yuan counted exactly nine grains of Filth Spirit Sand. Each black bead was no larger than a grain of rice, yet they pulsed with a faint, eerie light. Sweeping his demonic sense over them, his vision instantly darkened, and a wave of vertigo struck his mind.

This is no longer mere waste, he realized, treating the lethal substance with clinical reverence. This is a high-grade spiritual material, easily on par with Demon Beast essence blood or dragon scales! It would fetch an astronomical price on the market.

Within those tiny black beads, his senses detected a horrific tangle of malignant energies: baleful aura, ferocity, miasma, Killing Intent, and tainted blood aura. The innate talent of his large intestine had violently smelted these deadly toxins together, coalescing them into the concentrated Filth Spirit Sand.

He estimated that just a single whiff of this sand would be enough to rot the flesh and shatter the mind of an early Qi Condensation stage Demon Beast.

“Once my Magical Artifact is forged,” Wu Yuan murmured, his voice laced with casual cruelty, “whoever displeases me will get a face full of Filth Spirit Sand. I will leave them begging for a death they cannot reach.”

Satisfied, he patted the gourd and tucked it safely into his Storage Bag.

A sudden, hollow rumble echoed from his stomach.

“I didn’t expect my newly forged large intestine to absorb spiritual nutrients this rapidly,” he mused. “My metabolism has skyrocketed. Time to eat.”

Right on cue, a series of light, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the corridor.

A brigade of white rat demons marched into the treehouse in perfect formation, balancing an array of covered platters and glowing ingredients. Their movements were crisp and silent, the result of rigorous, almost military-grade training.

Leading the procession was a distinctly larger, striking grey rat demon.

He towered over the white rats, his bright eyes shimmering with keen, lively intelligence. Atop his head sat an immaculate, towering white chef’s hat, stitched with faint rat-shaped spiritual patterns that pulsed in the dim light of the grotto.

He wore a pristine magical robe of spiritual silk, dyed a crisp white with red accents. A pale cyan jade rat was embroidered over his heart, while intricate, flowing wave patterns lined the hem, and stylized flames licked the cuffs. Not a single stray hair marred his flawlessly groomed, glowing grey coat.

Without a word, the grey rat snapped his fingers. The brigade sprang into action, seamlessly arranging the cookware and plating the appetizers with orchestrated precision.

Watching the maestro at work, Wu Yuan offered a rare, genuine smile. “General Chef, what delicacies have you prepared for me today?”

As Wu Yuan’s dominion expanded, specialized lineages had begun to form within the horde. The absolute master of any given craft was granted an audience with the Rat King, bestowed a unique title, and given customized attire. They were elevated to the same echelon as Big Old Black and Bibo, answering exclusively to Wu Yuan. Even his top lieutenants could only offer them suggestions, not orders.

This grey rat, a culinary prodigy, had earned the title of General Chef. His lineage was the Spiritual Chef Rat clan, and Wu Yuan fully expected him to pioneer the ultimate path of Cultivation gastronomy.

In ancient times, spiritual cuisine had been a revered branch of Cultivation. Blessed with immense lifespans and boundless resources, ancient cultivators had elevated cooking to a divine art, with some legendary figures achieving Ascension solely through their culinary mastery. Dedicated spiritual cuisine Sects once dotted the land.

However, as eras passed and rare ingredients vanished, the art had withered. Now, it was a forgotten, non-mainstream novelty, kept alive only by a handful of massive Sects to serve their elite elders.

Wu Yuan had no ancient culinary manuals to offer his subordinate. But General Chef didn’t need them; he compensated for the lack of legacy with pure, terrifying, innate talent.

General Chef possessed a unique supernatural ability to intuitively maximize the flavor profile of any spiritual material while simultaneously drawing out its latent medicinal properties. Regardless of the ingredient, he could decipher its essence and craft it into a transcendent dish.

“With how large the horde has grown, the genetic lottery is finally paying off,” Wu Yuan chuckled. “With your talent, calling you a Spiritual Cuisine Saint Child is no exaggeration! If those declining culinary Sects knew you existed, they would wage wars to claim you. And the fact that you’re a rat makes you utterly priceless! A human chef is tedious to travel with, but a rat? I can just tuck you into a beast-taming bag and enjoy five-star dining across the realms!”

General Chef simply scratched the back of his head, offering a shy, dopey grin.

Despite his grand title, he was only a few months old. As the darling prodigy of the horde, he lacked for nothing. Little Yellow, in particular, practically worshipped the ground he walked on. Thus, General Chef spent his days in blissful peace, researching Wu Yuan’s favorite flavor profiles and practicing mild Cultivation.

“Speaking of which,” Wu Yuan tilted his head, “has Little Yellow been pestering you lately?”

General Chef shook his head, his paws busily preparing a garnish. “I told Chief Yellow that if he wants me to cook for him, he has to bring me spiritual materials I haven’t seen before. I haven’t seen him since.”

Wu Yuan threw his head back and laughed. “That little tyrant struts around like he owns the world—I’m number one, and he’s number two! Since I’m usually in Secluded Cultivation, he’s grown too playful, slacking on his scavenging duties. Well done! You’ve successfully hit him where it hurts. Keep the pressure on him!”

The Spiritual Chef merely smiled, bowing slightly as he presented a platter of snacks and a crystal goblet of juice.

The fruits appeared unchanged, but the moment Wu Yuan bit into them, the flesh melted across his tongue, bursting with an impossibly rich, vibrant sweetness that nourished his very soul. He didn’t even try to identify the ingredients of the juice; he simply relished the crisp, revitalizing chill as he drained the goblet in a single draught.

With the appetizers cleared, it was time for the main course.

Four rats strained to carry in a massive, person-sized bronze basin. As the lid was lifted, a cloud of fragrant, glowing steam billowed out, carrying an intoxicating aroma of the deep sea and pure, crystallized Spiritual Qi.

Swimming lazily within the crystal-clear, bubbling broth was the centerpiece: a First-Grade, Middle Grade Demon Beast known as the Silver Moon Fish.

The fish’s body was a flawless, translucent jade-white. As it glided through the savory broth, it looked exactly like a reflection of the moon caught in a serene pond. Its scales continuously shed a mesmerizing, silvery luminescence, casting a dreamlike glow over the dining table.

Scattered across the bottom of the basin, resting on a bed of seasoned spiritual herbs, was a cluster of First-Grade, Low Grade White Star Clams.

On the outside, their shells were a dull, unassuming grey. But the moment they popped open in the simmering broth, their tender, glistening meat radiated a brilliant, pearl-white light.

As the Silver Moon Fish gracefully circled above them, its falling “moonlight” triggered a reaction in the clams. They rhythmically opened and closed, absorbing the silvery essence. With every pulse, the brilliant white meat flashed against their dark shells, twinkling like a cluster of radiant stars.

The aroma was spellbinding—a perfect harmony of rich, melt-in-the-mouth oceanic savory notes and crisp, refreshing spiritual resonance. Together, the glowing broth, the silvery fish, and the pulsing clams painted a breathtaking, edible masterpiece: a sky of twinkling stars worshipping a silver moon.