Guo ShouQue remained unmoving.

From the moment he achieved self-transformation until now, he has been lounging on his rocking chair, lazily basking in the blood light, like an old man soaking in the sun.

Even if the world outside were falling apart, it wouldn't have half a cent's worth of impact on him.

Too lazy to move.

In the faint cries, he hummed old tunes intermittently, enjoying the brief respite between wakefulness and sleep.

Filthy blood light and malice surrounded him, then fled in terror, forming a faintly perceivable 'clear zone' around the courtyard.

Under the rocking chair, his shadow rippled like water, slowly writhing, shifting among various sinister shapes, subtly making a snickering sound. Compared to the evil thoughts and disasters tangled within him, the so-called self-transformation amounted to nothing!

At most, it was only comparable to today's heavy haze.

How should I put it? It's quite exhilarating!

As he swayed leisurely, he recalled the scene before departure.

That old customer and acquaintance who sought him out again after a long time.

"Going to Yingzhou?"

At that time, Guo ShouQue was casually preparing his pickled vegetables, "Chef Demon contest? Forget it, I'm getting old, and my body is stiff, I don't want to move."

"When it gets too quiet, one should move. Occasionally stretching your legs does no harm."

Xuan Niao plopped into his rocking chair, with a bowl of his refrigerated white fungus porridge in hand, and hadn't stopped talking since entering: "They should have something new there, perhaps even surprises. You shouldn't feel bored."

"Are you sure?" Guo ShouQue lifted his gaze, showing some interest.

He didn't fear Xuan Niao tricking him.

They had known each other for many years, dealt with each other extensively, and understood each other well. If Xuan Niao wanted to screw him over, there were countless ways to make him fail without being found, with no need for personal persuasion.

Moreover, this guy never makes pointless offers; he wouldn't strike without a rabbit in sight.

He had to admit that Guo ShouQue was slightly curious about the surprises Xuan Niao mentioned.

He pondered for a bit, then asked: "What do you need me to do?"

"Be a cook, of course. Otherwise, do you think I'd want you to fight?" Xuan Niao got up again, grabbed a spoon to fill himself another large bowl, continuing: "Just do what you want, treat it like a publicly funded trip."

"So eat hotpot and sing along, and then consider the job done?"

Guo ShouQue sneered: "Moreover, are you assuming that whatever I do will align with your intentions?"

"Aren't we familiars?"

Xuan Niao looked up, showing a loyal and kind smile—with a piece of white fungus from the soup Guo ShouQue made last night stuck on his beard.

The face practically screamed arrangements.

This old fellow may not be very adept at fighting or handling affairs. Among his contemporaries, the Sublimators, he never stood out, but his ability to sit on the King of Genealogy's throne depended on his stability and control—more than anything, it was about his grasp of the grand trend.

He could always place the right person at the right time in the right place.

To put it simply—whatever match-makings that guy handled, always worked out.

Something akin to using big data and vast information to produce matches in a cyberpunk world—almost heavenly, even more effective than Cupid's toy.

Thanks to this skill, he never had to contribute a dime at weddings, and would leave with a handful of thank-you envelopes, and of course always snagged two pig heads from Guo ShouQue for drinking.

Benefiting more than anyone else, yet still making others feel grateful.

Routines could be copied, and tricks learned, but this finesse in operation and vision was beyond imitation by anyone else.

Guo ShouQue shook his head, sneering: "Keep feeling you haven't come for anything good, might even cost me those two ounces of old cured meat getting caught in your trap... Heard Kua Fu, that silly kid, went out delivering for you last time and ended up pinned and beaten by Tier!"

"The troubles he stirred up have nothing to do with me!"

Xuan Niao widened his eyes innocently: "Can't blame me for him spitting randomly!"

"It depends on who took him to spit."

Guo ShouQue showed a 'like I don't know you' contemptuous expression, they were all old foxes for a thousand years, doing Chatting Liaozhai was unnecessary.

"Rest assured, rest assured, this time you'll definitely be smooth."

Xuan Niao patted his chest and assured.

To this, Guo ShouQue held no doubt.

These matters are like the sky being blue, like people die.

If Xuan Niao says you'll go smoothly, you'll certainly go smoothly, very smoothly. Just like if Bai Ze says you've good fortune, you are bound to have good fortune.

Take it slowly with stable steps, as long as heaven doesn't collapse, nine times out of ten you can achieve the desired result.

However, this feeling of working for nothing made him very uncomfortable. You work while I profit… Guo ShouQue hadn't been shortchanged by him often.

What made it even more frustrating was that Xuan Niao actually picked up the spoon again to fetch another bowl.

"Stop eating, old man! I've cooked a pot, and you're about to finish it! Are you Xuan Niao or Xuan Pig!" Guo ShouQue furiously snatched the spoon, stuffing the clay pot back in the fridge: "Get out, hurry!"

"Did you agree?"

Xuan Niao smacked his lips, looking around: "Just saw some pickled vegetables? Could you give me some to bring back? The kids need nutrition for growing."

Ten minutes later, Guo ShouQue angrily kicked him out the door.

Other than the pickled vegetable jar in his hand, he also filled the package with cured meat, returning full-handed.

The decision was settled at that time.

Kua Fu went to the Abyss delivering parcels, Guo ShouQue went to Yingzhou as Chef Demon, Xuan Niao went home to enjoy pickled vegetables.

Everyone had a bright future.

.

Now, thunder descends from the sky.

Guo ShouQue finally lifts his eyes from the rocking chair, staring quietly at the brilliant light falling from the heavens with his pitch-black pupils, absent of any vibrant white.

Casually, he kicks the bamboo basket beside him.

The lid of the basket abruptly flips open, darkness surges, and strange shadows emerge from within, cast upon the blood-red glass sky.

It's like a large invisible mouth, casually swallowing the ten-thousand-foot lightning into its belly, slowly retracting, then the lid of the bamboo basket gently closes.

"Enter the basket willingly."

"Yingzhou is truly a land blessed with good fortune."

Guo ShouQue lowers his head, gazing at the trembling bamboo basket as his eyebrows slowly rise: "Even lying down, ingredients are delivered to your door? How interesting… Kanda Soramakoto?"

"Who's calling me?"

Now, as that old face emerges from behind the shattered sky dome, Kanda sniffs the ominous scent in the air, swiftly discerning the familiar smell with wide eyes.

"You are from the Dongxia Genealogy! Attacking members of Deer's Sing Hall on Yingzhou's territory, is it your intention to stir conflict between the two nations? Undo this mystic ritual immediately!"

"You think too much. You might represent Deer's Sing Hall, but I, the old man, do not represent Dongxia Genealogy… At most, I'm just a passing chef."

Guo ShouQue chuckles bizarrely, raising his hand to increase the fire under the bamboo basket slightly, telling him: "In other words, it's not Dongxia Genealogy you've angered, but me."

That strange smile and pitch-black eyes brought an ominous foreboding.

Surveying the eerie surroundings, Kanda Soramakoto's eyes widen as he unleashes all his power to emit lightning, yet he cannot tear the sticky Sea of Darkness nor escape from this mystic ritual.

Instead, he feels the heat germinating inside his body.

The lightning, inherently a plasma phenomenon… is trembling from the burn!

"What does this even mean!"

He roars in anger: "Wasn't it you who initiated the attack and stirred trouble first!"

"You can't say it like that."

Guo ShouQue raises his hand, sprinkling a handful of salt.

Fine grains of salt fall from his fingertips, enlarging swiftly, transforming into enormous mountains in the roar, and pouring into the sea.

Below, the boiling sticky dark sea becomes increasingly bizarre.

Behind numerous bubbles, things resembling eyes rise, coldly gazing at the God of Thunder's position.

The Heaven Drum resounds swiftly, thunder expands, but this time the immense gravity cannot disperse it; countless sticky limbs brandishing teeth stretch endlessly towards the lightning in the sky…

Bit by bit, intending to drag him into the deepest darkness!

Hoarse and deep laughter emerges from there, filled with malice from the Abyss and indescribable horror.

Mocking his resistance.

"So, Deer's Sing Hall, have you not… overestimated yourselves? Aside from smashing his stove, what else could possibly anger a chef?"

Guo ShouQue rubs garlic in his hand, leisurely peeling off the thin layer, telling him calmly: "Since my birth over 190 years ago, the one thing I think about day and night without pause is only one thing — culinary arts.

To achieve culinary mastery, I'd sacrifice anything, even my life itself… In the end, now I am without a wife, without heirs, betrayed by my disciple, losing a third of my taste, all my sense of smell, with chronic illness that's hard to heal, a life so dismal it's hard to speak of."

"The few joys I have left are merely bullying young ones—"

Sighing as such, he crushed the garlic into paste, casually tossing it into the bamboo basket, causing the spicy scent to spread like an iceberg-sized giant, stirring the boiling Sea of Darkness.

As the Dark Ocean boils, Guo ShouQue lowers his head, gazing down at his face: "Now that you've taken this little pleasure from me, do you blame me for stirring trouble?"

"Isn't this simply unreasonable?"

He smiles, asking, "Isn't this too self-centered?"

In that instant, after decades of absence, Kanda Soramakoto feels his heart clench again. That smile is even more unsettling than any cold word or horrifying expression.

Just like… looking at fish on the cutting board.

Serene and tranquil, full of expectation.

"What… what are you trying to do!"

Kanda Soramakoto asks in a low voice, as the Heaven Drum roars behind him, the Hammer of Lament breaks in response, nearly self-destructing as it crashes onto the drum.

The explosive lightning rushes into the sky, transforming into a sea of thunder spanning thousands of miles.

The God of Thunder descends.

In an instant, the bamboo basket becomes riddled with cracks, as countless dark fog rises.

A scorching beam of lightning, like a spear, bursts from within, piercing Guo ShouQue's face and skull, extending backward, tearing through his self-sufficient fetal membrane, shooting out into the sky.

Yet, emerging from the shattered skull is a form more sinister than disastrous fragments.

Fused and entangled souls open countless eyes from the crack, gazing down upon Kanda Soramakoto's astonished look, still smiling.

"Don't be afraid. I am merely a chef; how could I be violent?"

The cacophony of countless screeches overlaps, gradually morphing into Guo ShouQue's aged voice: "I just want to simmer a bowl of Old Soup to nourish the body…"

He raises his hand, covering the bamboo basket with its lid.

The time to simmer soup has come.

"But, be very careful."

Guo ShouQue's shattered skull slowly regenerates, merging his features as his lips part, emitting a sincere voice.

This is the final warning.

"This pot of Old Soup brewed for tens of thousands of years in Hell, is truly devouring—"