’No, wait, skip acceptance. I am permanently stuck in anger. I am going to murder my Master.’

"Kid," Jiu Zui rumbled, completely immune to the palpable waves of despair rolling off his apprentice.

He stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping loudly in the quiet hall. "You can stop groaning now. The dramatic performance was good for the old fogeys, but it’s just you and me now. Let’s head back. I have a sudden, undeniable craving for those crystal dumplings."

Ji’an slowly lowered her hands.

She turned her head, fixing the Drunken Sovereign with a glare so profoundly dead, so utterly devoid of filial piety, that a lesser man would have withered on the spot.

"I am not making you dumplings," Ji’an whispered, her voice a hollow, terrifying monotone. "I am going to make you a pie. I am going to march into the deepest, darkest, most cursed ravine on this mountain, find a mushroom that secretes liquid necrosis, and I am going to bake it into a flaky, butter crust. And I am going to watch you eat it."

Jiu Zui threw his head back and let out a booming, entirely unrepentant laugh.

He reached out and aggressively ruffled her impeccably styled dark hair, completely ruining the neat bun she had spent twenty minutes pinning up.

"Oh, stop whining, you dramatic little brat," Jiu Zui scoffed, dropping his hand to his hip. "You think I just threw you to the wolves because of my ego?"

"Yes!" Ji’an shrieked, finally leaping to her feet, her heavy Third Generation silk robes swirling around her ankles. "You literally slammed your gourd on the table and bet my life against a room full of heavily armed, magic-wielding psychopaths! I am a cook! My highest offensive stat is ’spicy’!"

"You just shattered an iron chain with a spatula yesterday, Ji’an. Stop playing the fragile maiden," Jiu Zui rolled his amethyst eyes.

He leaned against the heavy mahogany table, pulling his wine gourd from his belt and popping the cork.

He took a slow sip, his gaze turning suddenly, incredibly shrewd. The drunken wastrel persona slipped away, revealing the cunning, ancient tactician beneath.

"Think about it, kid," Jiu Zui said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. "What is the one thing you’ve been complaining about since you got to my peak?"

Ji’an crossed her arms, still glaring. "That you drink too much and your kitchen was a biohazard?"

"Besides that," Jiu Zui grunted. "You complain about the ingredients. You complain that the sect’s logistics pavilion only supplies standard, boring spirit-wheat and basic cabbage. You complain that to truly master the Dao of the Iron Wok, you need access to rare, chaotic, and dangerous beast meat from the outer borders."

Ji’an blinked. Her righteous fury faltered for a fraction of a second. "Okay. Yes. That is a legitimate logistical bottleneck. But what does that have to do with me fighting in a death-bracket?!"

Jiu Zui grinned, a wicked, entrepreneurial glint in his eye.

"The Official Sect Martial Ranking requires participants to accumulate merit points," the Sovereign explained smoothly. "And how do you accumulate merit points? By completing high-yield, dangerous Sect Missions. And where do those missions take place?"

Ji’an’s eyes slowly widened.

"Outside the sect," Jiu Zui confirmed, pointing a finger at her. "All over the Northern Territories. The coastal waters. The southern spice jungles. The western deserts. As a ranked participant, you will be issued an unlimited, unquestioned hall pass to leave the mountain whenever you want, under the guise of ’completing missions.’"

Ji’an’s mouth parted slightly. The gears in her culinary brain, previously jammed by terror, suddenly began to spin with terrifying, capitalistic velocity. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Normally, Outer and Inner Disciples were strictly confined to their peaks, forced to train endlessly under the watchful eyes of their masters.

Leaving the sect required mountains of paperwork, approvals, and escorts.

But if she was on active mission duty...

"Wait," Ji’an breathed, her hands dropping to her sides. "Are you telling me... that this entire tournament is basically a six-month, all-expenses-paid, unrestricted grocery shopping spree?"

"Bingo!" Jiu Zui laughed, snapping his fingers. "While those idiots are busy beating each other over the head in the sparring rings to prove whose sword is shinier, you can just accept a mission to ’exterminate a horde of Deep-Sea Spirit-Crabs.’ You go to the beach. You exterminate the crabs. You pack them into your spatial ring, hand in a couple of claws for the merit points, and come home with a lifetime supply of premium seafood."

The sheer, unadulterated brilliance of the loophole hit Lin Ji’an like a bolt of lightning.

Her fear of the Protagonists, her dread of the arena, and her anger at her Master instantly, completely vaporized.

They were incinerated by the blinding, overwhelming passion of a Head Chef who had just been handed the keys to the world’s largest, most dangerous farmer’s market.

"I can go to the Scorched Canyons," Ji’an whispered, her dark eyes practically turning into glowing stars. "I can hunt the Flame-Horned Cattle! I can harvest genuine, wild-grown Thunder-Root Ginger from the storm plains! Master... I can finally make an authentic, heaven-tier bone broth!"

Jiu Zui took another swig of wine, looking incredibly smug at his own masterful manipulation. "I told you I was looking out for you, kid. The elders think they’re punishing us by forcing us to work. But all they’ve done is give the glutton a license to hunt."

Ji’an reached out, grabbing Jiu Zui’s sleeve with both hands, her face shining with absolute, manic devotion.

"Master, you are a genius. You are a visionary. You’re so wicked, I love you. I take back everything I said about the poisonous mushroom pie," Ji’an declared fervently. "I will make you the crystal dumplings. I will make you a hundred crystal dumplings! Let them bring their swords! I will bring my grocery list!"

Jiu Zui chuckled, patting her head. "That’s my boy. Now, fix your collar. We have to walk out of here and look like we’re taking this seriously."