* * *

Han Nao, then Feng, then Xing Duo, had once liked mustaches and beards. Of course, not scruffy and dirty beards like those of savages, but neat and well-groomed beards that showed the owner to be an enlightened, manly, or skillful person. All or almost all of the teachers in the crystals wore long snow-white beards. Father Guang Nao had a beautiful beard, and Mentor Buntao looked just fine. Even in his previous life, when the time came, Han had followed his father and brother's example, and Mother Lihua had claimed that his beard emphasized his masculinity!

Now, Xing considered his beard and mustache to be the test of the demons of the underworld, the wretched lot of those who had not learned the best invention of civilized mankind in the world - the sharp razor.

The problem was that he had to wear them now, and they stung his lips, itched incessantly, and felt like one of the Torture Department's elaborate contraptions on his face. And, alas, there was no getting rid of the beard. Not now, not when he'd worked so hard to get it.

After that epic battle, during which he had sat in a tree, heartily wishing victory for both sides of the battle, and after settling matters with the official Fu and the underlings of the despicable Gao, Xing faced a great challenge. He had a herd of nearly two dozen fine horses, a mountain of beasts, and enough weapons, armor, and equipment to arm a small band of mercenaries. In fact, Xing didn't need any of these things.

The rich and noble Han Nao would probably just wave his hand and go about his scholarly business. But Xing, who had experienced hunger, poverty, and hardship, could not allow so much fine food to go to waste. And as a former apprentice blacksmith, the master blacksmith himself was not capable of leaving a weapon, though not outstanding, but still not bad, to rust and deteriorate. And the horses... The horses were just pitiful.

So, even though he should have gotten out of there as soon as possible, he decided to take a gamble. He dragged all the beasts that had died near the oak tree and were resting on the spreading branches to the familiar clearing where he had heard the details of the conspiracy, cursing and cursing Gao. The assumption that his sharp, threatening qi would only keep the blood-scented beasts away for a short while proved to be true. In the end, he even had to fight a huge lizard, whose carcass soon joined its equally unlucky brethren. After the beasts, it was time for the horses: he moved them in pairs to a favorite clearing, tying them on the opposite side of the pile of furry, feathery, and scaly bodies.

Even though the qi he covered the beasts with to stop decomposition completely blocked the odors, the horses were nervous and roared hysterically. Fortunately, they were warhorses trained in the blood of battle, so the only serious problem was Official Fu's harness horse, which could only be calmed down by being put to sleep with the help of healing qi.

Xing then dragged all the decent equipment of the enemies who had been stripped naked beforehand and also dug out the money that had been hidden for over two years. Xing realized that now that he had obtained the treasury of Gao's squad and the bribe money of the corrupt official Fu, this amount, once so huge, looked insignificant. But the peasant's prudence did not allow him to leave even a bent coin.

He didn't know why he had thought it such a great idea to use the Purple Oak log, but he cursed the moment it had occurred to him. He'd worked on the branch until almost sundown. And then, as he tossed the log with the papers attached and enjoyed the look on his mentor's face, he couldn't help thinking that any other wood would have worked just as well.

What could have gone wrong with his plan? Absolutely, absolutely everything! Fortunately, the gods of luck were still looking in his direction, so no one had passed along the road that ran along the edge of the Forest of a Dozen Steps, as usual.

Xing went to bed very tired. Not in body, for his qi was still buzzing as usual, but in spirit, which had been exhausted by the day's dragging of dead beasts and people and the painful cutting of the stupid branch. And the anxiety of waiting for trouble did not allow, despite the vast experience of sleeping in all suitable and inappropriate places, to sleep properly.

Early in the morning, as soon as the sun shone its first rays on the earth, Xing set out for Zhumen, leading a caravan of horses tied together by a long rope. Official Fu's horse, which now did not have to pull a heavy lacquered wagon or be in a clearing with such horrible and ferocious dead monsters, was quite cheerful. The other horses, who were used to obeying only their masters, bucked and resisted, so they had to be urged on again by the intimidating and overwhelming qi.

Fortunately, Zhumen's marketplace was outside the city walls. Xing was not afraid of being seen by the city guards, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. He passed several horse dealers until he chose one whose qi he liked better than the others. He stood and watched him look into the horses' teeth and examine their hooves.

Xing had never been good at acting. He simply had no need to learn the art of theater. But now, dressed in the hated Gao clan colors and scratching the beard he had cut from the previous wearer, he was the epitome of arrogant irritation.

"Well, merchant!" he bellowed in all sincerity. "Do you take it or not?"

"I can't," the merchant said. "How do I know these horses aren't stolen?"

"So you, you despicable soul, are accusing me, Han Gao, of stealing horses?" Xing asked menacingly with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I think your tongue is too agile and needs to be shortened."

"I am a subject of the Emperor!" shouted the merchant.

"A despicable commoner who insulted a member of the Gao clan!" Xing corrected him. "Don't worry, my clan will compensate your widow."

"No, no, Mr. Gao!" the merchant immediately backtracked. "I don't doubt your words in the slightest. But you do realize."

"Do you find me suspicious?" Xing asked curtly.

"Of course not! There is no doubt about the reputation of Gao and all the members of your great family! But still, you will agree, I will have to give an explanation when someone asks where this worthy young man got so many horses and why I bought them."

Xing hesitated for the sake of order, staring intently at the merchant. The direct stare made him squirm and stumble, his qi expressing complete panic. Finally, Xing replied as if reluctant.

"Did you see my squad?"

"Yes, of course! You left the South Gate yesterday morning! Along with the esteemed assistant to the Second Jasper Judge."

"Well, that'll save us a lot of unnecessary explanations. Do you know who lives in that direction?"

"The Forest of a Dozen Steps! Only an idiot would settle... You mean the venerable blacksmith, Master Gong Buntao?"

"You're smarter than you look," Xing nodded condescendingly, and the fear in the merchant's qi was replaced by anger and resentment. "What do you know about the First Heir of the Gao Clan?"

"Nothing, my lord. The affairs of your great clan are far above this unworthy merchant."

"Unworthy? Well said! Well, well, don't make that face. It's not about you. You're no worse or better than any of your vile peddling tribe."

Xing felt that all apprehension in the merchant's qi had faded into the background, replaced by a burning hatred.

"Well, the heir to the Gao clan has awakened qi! And since he wasn't born in a filthy stable like you and the people of this shithole, he deserves the best weapons! Do you understand?"

"Not really, Mr. Gao."

"No wonder! It's not like cheating honest people. Weapons! The finest weapons! And for some reason, a decent blacksmith has settled in this godforsaken city!"

"I still can't figure out what this has to do with horses," the merchant muttered, eyes downcast and hatred in his qi.

"The clan heir's weapon is the guan dao!" Xing said slowly as if speaking to a retarded person. "And if a good metal can be taken care of by a blacksmith, then for the Purple Oak, whose wood is the only worthy of the heir, he wanted to charge... that is, he has no Purple Oak at all! And only we, the great warriors of the Gao clan, can get it!"

The merchant nodded subserviently, but a flash of fierce burning gloating showed that he understood perfectly well what his interlocutor was getting at.

"As one of the best warriors in the squad, I have been assigned a very important mission!" Xing stuck out his chin. "To guard the horses from the sneaky and jealous enemies! If I were to go to the forest, we would definitely return with Purple Oak!"

"And the official Fu?" The merchant almost interrupted. His face was deferential and obsequious, but his qi showed he was laughing.

"He went with the squad, of course!" Xing confirmed the merchant's guess. "After all, the safest place in the Empire is near the Gao warriors! But they did not return, apparently, the squad was ambushed by the enemies! Could not be the cause of death of some miserable beast?"

"And you want to sell the horses?" the merchant steered the conversation in a businesslike direction.

"Of course! You're a fool if you think someone can lead two dozen horses to Gao Manor alone! It was dangerous to stay... for the horses, yes, not for me, just for the horses! I, haha, could easily slay all the beasts, but the horses would suffer in the process. Besides, I've got to get home as soon as possible to deliver the news!"

The merchant bowed again, and the hue of his qi changed once more. Laughter and gloating were joined by a strong contempt for that cowardly good-for-nothing "Han Gao" who had fled, heels blazing, as soon as the squad was lost in the Forest. And Xing would not be Xing unless the whole of Zhumen, and the whole province the day after that, were talking about the shameful deaths of Gao's warriors and official Fu!

"Hey, are you deaf? I said "soon"! That means you have to move your lazy ass! Gao family members don't bargain, so if you don't give me a fair price, I'll chop off your legs!"

Xing was sure he would be ripped off to the last zheng, but he didn't expect to get a good price for the horses. However, whether it was the threat or the horses were much better than he thought, the merchant gave him a good price.

With a careless gesture, showing that a member of the Gao clan was not supposed to care about this despicable money, he stuffed the coins into his shoulder bag and headed away. When he reached the large wooden building of the common latrine, Xing went inside, made sure there was no one around, and quickly changed his clothes. The hateful beard and mustache he had kept on his face with his inner energy all this time went to the hole in the floor, the place where all Gao was supposed to stay forever. His clothes also went there, bursting into flames from the fire qi and instantly turning to ash.

Xing Duo, a disciple of the great master Gong Buntao, known throughout Zhumen, came out. He calmly walked through the market and bought a large cart for carrying heavy construction materials, pulled by four oxen, at almost double the price. They were calm, unhurried animals that even a child could handle, unlike horses.

Xing loaded the weapons and supplies onto the cart, piled the carcasses of the beasts on top, and finally covered it with the Purple Oak branches left over from the preparation of the message to the Master.

After the fight with Gao, it had been more than twenty-four hours of hustle and bustle, constant running, carrying heavy weights, and tiring preparations. Xing thought to himself as he finally set off:

Every hero needs a spatial ring. Absolutely!

* * *

Xing was not used to the hardships of life. In the past, it had been the torture of a rogue master, followed by the full list of hardships of a beggar peasant, and only a madman would call surviving in the Forest of a Dozen Steps pleasant. Now, his experience of life was enriched by a new torment. He accustomed to a very different pace of life and action, simply could not bear the leisurely gait of the oxen. A journey he would have made on foot in less than a week lasted a month. And all that time, he had to keep a whole mountain of meat from spoiling.

It was not difficult for him, who already had sufficient strength, and he had to renew and strengthen the qi that kept the carcasses in the freshest condition no more than once a day. In addition, the oxen were smart animals, able to stomp in a given direction even without a driver. Their shining oxen eyes shone with such equanimity that even a mountain of dead predators had no effect on their behavior. They were above such trifles as the corpses of enemies.

Therefore, Xing did not sit idle on the cart when he traveled to another province. He would run ahead to explore the area, hunt, and swim in the rivers and lakes he encountered. But the journey was still a terrible one, so he spent it mostly in training, increasing his qi every day.

He had long ago gone through the captured weapons and armor, using the blacksmith's qi and skills to rid them of any hint of Gao ancestry. He found nothing particularly interesting. Except for the sword of the chief Gao, whose name he never learned and which he had no interest in. The blacksmith who forged the sword was no match for Master Gong, but he used excellent material. Even if it was only Star Iron, Xing could turn it into Star Steel at the first decent forge he could find. Putting this sword aside, Xing decided to sell everything else.

And it was much easier than Xing had ever expected. The guards in the towns and cities he visited to resupply food for the oxen were always alarmed at the sight of beasts, but when they saw the qi glow surrounding the carcasses and heard the destination of his journey, they calmed down without even bothering to search the cart. Xing could understand them. No one wanted to mess with a man who could not only handle a pack of wild beasts but also wielded qi. Qi adepts and masters had always been highly regarded in the Empire, and Xing's documents - the medallion of a Zhumen resident - were in perfect order. So he sold his remaining armor and weapons for a very good price, aided by a sense of qi that showed how much the merchant was willing to bargain for.

Arriving in Myantao, the capital of the neighboring province, Xing was confused at first. He had never seen such a huge city with so many pedestrians, riders, and carriages in his previous life or this one. Xing was confused, not knowing where to go or how to navigate the streets, where each horse seemed to stand on the head of the previous one, and carts were propped up against each other, leaving no room for a man. However, it was very easy to solve such a problem. After explaining himself to the guard and getting some good advice, Xing called out to the street boys who were shamelessly gawking at the dead beasts, showed them a couple of coins, and everything happened as if by itself. He didn't even have to steer the cart. The two new guides, snatching the reins from each other, drove him to the right place - a huge four-story restaurant with a tiled roof with three giant crossed cleavers gilded on its sign.

Xing didn't bother to confuse the visitors and drove around to the rear of the establishment, where there were living quarters in the vast fenced area, and the wide gate was clearly for food deliveries.

He went to the gate and pounded the bronze ring on the tiger's huge face. It didn't take long before a small window opened in the gate and an eye peeked out. The Qi of the eye's owner clearly showed that he was not very happy with what he saw.

"What do you want?"

"Tell me, sir, is this the home of the famous Chef Bohai, nicknamed the Three Knives?"

"What's in it for you?"

"I need to talk to him," Xing replied, feeling strangely like this had happened to him in the past.

"Get out of here, you pauper, before you get stabbed with a spear!"

The feeling intensified. The situation was so reminiscent of his first visit to Master Gong that he even regretted not bringing a couple of logs for messages. Or maybe he should have thrown animal corpses inside.

"Tell him that the pauper has brought a whole cartload of selected beast meat from the Forest of a Dozen Steps!" Han grinned.

"Even ten thousand!" replied the gatekeeper. "Get out!"

Xing was angry. He hadn't wasted so much time on the road to argue with some asshole. If anyone going to send him away, it would be the owner of this place.

"I suggest two options," he said calmly, showing no emotion. "One, you call Mr. Bohai. The second is that I really get off. Because I have nothing to do in the ruins of this restaurant."

"What are you, you little brat..." the gatekeeper began to get agitated.

Xing stretched out his hand, and a huge, bright, and very hot pillar of fire burst into the sky. The eye that kept peering out the window widened, making the owner look like a Yellow Owl whose carcass was also lying on the cart.

"I'll call right away..." the gatekeeper began to speak hastily, but he was interrupted by a possessor of strong qi approaching from the direction of the restaurant.

"What's all the noise?"

"Mr. Bohai, this guy claims, uh..."

"Who are you, and what do you want?" A thick, strong voice rang out, interrupting the gatekeeper again.

"My name is Xing Duo. And what I want, we can discuss while you look at these fresh and unspoiled beasts from the Forest of a Dozen Steps."

"Juan! Why are you standing there like a clay pot? Hurry up and open the gate!"

* * *

There was a quiet buzz in the huge square of Myantao. A motley crowd of the city's citizens crowded the stands. At a long table covered with silk cloth sat the judges, a dozen of the most respected citizens of the city. Four drummers, standing at the huge instruments half a man's height, froze as statues, raising into the air huge sticks, the size and shape of which resembled more like gong beats.

In the center of the square were several extinguished hearths in a semicircle, tables laden with cooking utensils, and endless baskets filled with vegetables, fruits, meat, fish, seasonings, and other ingredients.

The drummers synchronously lowered their sticks, and after a resounding beat, the square was completely silent, and the audience seemed to hold its breath. A second beat sounded. The drummers glistening with their muscular, half-naked bodies, began to beat out a slow, measured rhythm.

One after another, girls dressed in a dark blue qipao, the style and color familiar to every visitor of the Three Knives Restaurant, and guys dressed as junior chefs began to enter the square. They took their places synchronously, like well-trained soldiers of a great general, forming a long corridor with their bodies.

"Ho!" shouted the waitresses and cooks, simultaneously throwing in the air brightly colored flags with the emblem of the restaurant.

The rhythm of the drums quickened, and a lone figure in the bright scarlet silk robes of a Senior Cook stepped into the square through the living corridor.

Following the rhythm of the drums, Xing walked past the rows of restaurant workers, smiling at the guys and winking at the girls. The guys smiled back, and the girls made eyes at him.

Xing waited for the end of the drumbeat, then took out two cleavers from the sheaths on his hips, deftly twisted them in his palms, thrust them into the chopping block with a loud clang, and raised his hands in the air.

The audience roared with delight.

Xing, showing off, took a few stalking steps towards the hearths and threw his palms forward. A pillar of fire qi burst out from his hands, igniting the wood and igniting the stoves.

The audience gasped in unison.

The drums gave a short series of three beats and fell silent.

"Hot!" broke the silence with a loud cheer from the cooks and waitresses, who had already changed formation. The girls froze with their flags in the air, and the boys raised their sharp knives instead.

The drumming resumed, and Xing pulled the cleavers from the deck and began cooking. The knives flashed in his hands as he chopped, shredded, sliced, pierced, and prepared ingredients, which were then sent into multiple cauldrons and pans with movements imperceptible to the eye. Some ingredients he chopped on a board, some he tossed upward, slicing with elusively quick sweeps of his knives straight up in the air, and some he chopped with a tug.

"Sweet!" A chorus of cheers shouted, and the boys and girls froze again in graceful poses as the drumming stopped.

Bohai sitting at the head of the judges' table, watched approvingly, stroking his beard. The audience gasped and then murmured again.

Xing continued to work. He darted between tables and hearths, cutting, throwing new ingredients into cauldrons and pans, stirring and turning, a little wishing he could watch a performance in which he was the main participant.

The silk dresses were tight around the girls' slender bodies, clearly outlining every exciting curve. Although Xing didn't care about the guys who were dancing, he admitted that they looked cool too.

"Spicy!" exclaimed the dancers, once again adopting graceful stances.

Xing, while cooking, was once again amazed at how much they knew how to turn the cooking process, boring to an outsider, into an exciting spectacle. He tossed his knives high into the air, grabbed a few turquoise ice onions, placed them on the board, stretched out his arms, and the knives fell into his palms.

"Bitter!" once again the support group broke the silence.

The new drumbeat changed to the humming of wind instruments. With a fierce, warlike melody, two dragons entered the square. Xing felt a familiar qi - this time, the restaurant guards and backroom workers wore dragon costumes. The flexible, long bodies, stomping their multiple legs in sync, swirled in the middle of the square, displaying perfect cohesion and preparation.

"Salty!"

The demonstration examination bore little resemblance to real work in the kitchen. Whereas the cook had the whole day at his disposal. He could plan when and how to start cooking each dish, but now he had to take into account not only the taste but also the spectacle, the mood of the audience and the judges, and therefore to cook everything at the same time. There were also a lot of assistants in the kitchen. The chef didn't need to do everything himself, but the judges were not supposed to evaluate the work of the cooking team. However, Xing, who preferred to rely only on himself, had no problem with these requirements. In addition, he could easily control the cooking time of each dish with his qi.

The drumbeat quickened the rhythm, the dragons sprang to their feet, and the dancers raised their knives and flags. Xing raised his knives along with them, and at the same time, he let out a long stream of fire from his mouth.

"Delicious!" the final shout of the dancers cut through the air.

The trick Xing had recently mastered was a bit useless, as it was more convenient to let the fire out of his hands, but it was very spectacular. Alas, despite everything, Xing couldn't call such tricks "techniques." During his two years of apprenticeship with Bohai, he had learned many ways to use qi, but nothing he could do could compare to the skills of the heroes of the crystals or his master's skills.

Bohai's studies were time-consuming, but the kitchen did not require great strength but rather fine control. Xing studied hard, honed his skills, and visited the Myantao Imperial Library only a few times.

He knew how sneaky and deceitful his master was, but only now did he realize the depths of this despicability. As it turned out, Han Nao hadn't learned a single secret technique during his training, and all the exercises and methods the bastard had given him were in the public domain. For a moderate amount of money (which would seem huge in Duojia), the librarian could even make a copy using a special machine that combined an ordinary printing press and several sophisticated talismans.

Master Bohai stood up from behind the judges' table, and that was the end of the dramatic pause. A series of explosions rang out, and multiple fireworks exploded into the air, blooming in the sky with fiery colors. Although Xing could easily replicate this with qi, he admitted that it looked very beautiful.

As Bohai strode leisurely past the row of waitresses and cooks, heading straight for Xing, the crowd roared and cheered. His trim figure, with his powerful muscular arms and broad shoulders, belied the general belief that you couldn't be a good chef without a huge, bulging potbelly. The dark purple garment was the same cut as Xing's uniform. Only the color and intricate embroidery indicated the status of the wearer.

Bohai threw his hand into the air. The audience instantly fell silent. The trumpets gave a final trill, and the drums beat a few more times and fell silent. Xing twirled the knives in his fingers and, with a practiced movement, sent them into the sheaths on his hips. These knives were his pride. Any metal could be found in such a huge city, so he had forged them himself, paying only for the temporary use of one of the best forges. And now, as a good cook should, he was the owner of a proper tool, not in the least spoiled by the use of chi.

Xing grabbed a cookstove, took a bowl from the tall stack, filled it from one of the cauldrons, then held it out to the master, bowing respectfully.

"A fiery Honyang Chowder of three kinds of meat and fish," Bohai sucked in air with his nose, "on herbs and qi, with a hint of the right fire root from the North."

Xing carefully kept a blank face. The root in the chowder was certainly present but had long since been exhausted. So Xing simply added his qi, transforming it into Fire, which was not much different from the jet he exhaled at the end of the performance. The chowder was called Fire Chowder not only because it burned and invigorated, bringing back ten years of life and prolonging youth, but also because it was usually set on fire when served.

A simple and reliable test to distinguish a real chef's dish from a pathetic fake.

"But such a chowder would be incomplete without..." Bohai began to speak slowly, letting qi slip into his voice.

"...crispy Fujian bun, Master," Han cut into his mentor's words so skillfully that it didn't even feel like he had interrupted him.

Placing the bowl back on the table, he grabbed a piece of the air dough he had been kneading during the show and tore off a small, carefully measured piece.

The drummers reacted instantly with a rhythmic beat.

Xing twisted the dough on his finger, turning it into a flat disk, tossed it into the air, and blew, adding qi to make the bun take the desired shape. Catching it, he rolled the perfect ball in the palm of his hand and tossed it again, this time adding Fire qi. After catching the ready Fujian bun, he was next to Bohai, holding a tray of chowder, a bun, a side dish of blue rice, four appetizers, a suitable tea, and three young bamboo shoots.

"Yes, this is a Fujian bun," Bohai said approvingly, squeezing it in his hand. "The crunch is just right. And the contents..."

Mentor took his chopsticks from the tray and began to eat. He ate first the chowder, then the other dishes, one after the other, and lastly the tea, with a bun as a snack. As soon as the bun was in his mouth with a final crunch, he raised his head and exhaled a dragon-like tongue of flame.

Everyone around him was mesmerized. Even Xing, holding the tray of dishes in a respectful bow, was a little nervous, even though he knew there was no reason to worry. He hadn't come to Bohai to get some kind of recognition. He just wanted to regain a piece of his past life and no longer depend on anyone. And, of course, to catch up and overtake the bastard of a master, who, as it turned out, could also cook well.

"...the contents are great too!" The Qi-enhanced voice of the mentor echoed through the square, and the crowd roared.

Bohai let the audience cheer, then raised his hand. The crowd fell silent once again.

"I testify that Xing Duo, my personal apprentice, has become a worthy cook. I, Bohai Gantao nicknamed Three Knives, can now be proud of not only my skills as a chef but also my accomplishments as a teacher. However!"

There was complete silence in the square as if the spectators sensed the drama of the moment.

"However, I am his teacher! Every teacher treats his students with warmth, and thus is unable to evaluate their skills impartially."

Yeah, sure, every! Xing snorted to himself. The mentor didn't know the scoundrel-master, or he would have realized the naivety of his words.

"So it's not for me to judge whether my apprentice is ready or not. But fortunately, I am not alone here. Distinguished judges who have agreed to be honorable residents of the glorious Myantao and in whose honesty and impartiality none of us doubts will give a fair verdict. Is my student worthy to be called a master chef or not?"

The drums rumbled again. Xing returned the tray to the table, picked up the cooking utensil again, and, with quick, precise movements, began to fill the plates, serving twelve trays and adding a freshly made bun each. A string of waitresses came to the table. The girls picked up a tray each and, walking gracefully, placed them in front of the judges. Under the breath of the hushed crowd, they began their meal, from time to time emitting contented sighs and sweet chewing.

One by one, the judges let out a stream of flame that was no comparison to Master Bohai's. Finally, one of the judges stood up from the table.

"Worthy!" he said loudly.

"Worthy!" confirmed the second judge, standing next to him.

One by one, the judges stood up, each of whom confidently confirmed that yes, Xing Duo, the apprentice of Bohai Three Knives, was worthy of being called a master, not just a chef. The culprit himself broke out into a smile. Only Master Bohai's satisfied smile could match it in width.

"May all the people of Myantao hear it and write it down in the seal scrolls!" Bohai proclaimed loudly.

A young and skinny official, unlike the scoundrel Fu, immediately unrolled the scroll.

"On the seventh day of the Dragon Month of the Year of the Wood Rat, Xing Duo passed his chef's exam in the presence of many spectators and a committee of the most honorable and respected citizens of Myantao. I, Bohai Gantao, nicknamed Three Knives, also testify that Xing Duo has become a true chef after two years of apprenticing!"

The audience roared. The drums beat again, and the cooks from the restaurant came to the cauldrons and pans and began to fill new bowls. The waitresses picked them up and carried them toward the audience - for such a wonderful event would be incomplete if the spectators had only to swallow saliva.

The crowd went into a frenzy. They could see there would not be enough food for everyone, but they had already noticed the carts bringing in new food and the celebrant rekindling the fire in the ovens and pulling out his knives.

* * *

"Shall we talk?" Bohai said, pointing his hand to a table in the empty restaurant hall.

It was late in the evening, and the performance was long over, as was the banquet that followed. The guards had a lot of work to do, pulling away the troublemakers trying to fight over some delicacy or another. There was also work for the fire department, which extinguished careless lovers of Fujian buns or Hongyan chowder who managed to set themselves or their neighbors on fire with their breath (or sometimes not even breath).

"As you wish, Master," Xing replied to the teacher easily, taking a seat at the table.

"I am no longer your master," Bohai remarked, smoothing his beard.

"I am no longer an apprentice, but you will always be my mentor," Xing shook his head. "I have never forgotten my past, and I don't intend to now."

Oh yes, he remembered some moments of the past so well that they were part of his identity. When he was working in the kitchen, he used the image of the bastard master to energize himself, imagining chopping him up with knives and chopping him into small strips. Only the image of Mei, to whom Xing unconsciously compared every woman, helped him resist the charms of Nuying, Bohai's daughter, who had inherited her mother's striking beauty. Though the memory of escaping from the strong hands of Jie, to whom Xing, if he had been a little slower, would have been married for two years. He had never succumbed to the woman's charms, but he had done so with great difficulty, and it still made his insides ache when he looked at Nuiying. Xing had been practicing his self-control and stamina, but it was getting harder and harder every day.

"That's good," Bohai finally approved after a long pause, "one who cannot remember the past has no future."

They drank tea in silence, marvelous, velvety, rare, and very expensive, exchanging polite phrases about the weather and barbarian raids on the outskirts of the Empire. The weather never satisfied anyone - it was always too hot, cold, or not enough rain, or those nasty rains that scared away visitors. Barbarians raided the borders, too, so the two themes were always relevant everywhere.

"Tell me, Xing," Bohai said, "did you have a good time at this place?"

"Oh yes, I enjoyed it very much," he replied earnestly and eagerly.

"Would you like to call this place home?" Bohai asked, taking a small sip of tea.

"Well, I..." Xing started and stopped, thinking.

"And me, father-in-law?" Bohai added, sensing the weakness.

Xing couldn't keep a nonchalant face. He stared at his mentor blankly.

He openly offered him his daughter and a place by his side. For a peasant from a remote village, this was more than just good fortune. It was an ascension to the higher world, the transformation of a mere mortal into a celestial. A beautiful wife with rich parents and a prosperous family business. Working shoulder to shoulder with Bohai would open him up to the nobility, if not straight to the Emperor's palace. A craftsman of that caliber had a very high status in the Empire, which valued merit above all else - even above most of the aristocracy. Inherit a business, a glorious name, a huge fortune, and a house in the provincial capital. To become a noble himself, after all.

Everyone in the Empire loved good food, especially the upper classes. Cook properly and please the heads of the great houses and even the Emperor himself. Get a position as a palace chef, and then even such illustrious and noble persons as General Guang Nao would have to ask for favors and respect your wishes.

Unlike the glorious and famous blacksmith, no one would risk coming to Bohai Three Knives with a forged debt scroll or being thrown into prison on false charges. No one would have to be rescued, on the contrary, it was Bohai's family that promised protection from any trouble.

Most importantly, Xing didn't even need to abandon his current aspirations. By working with Bohai, adopting the subtleties of his art, and further refining his knife skills, he could continue to train, strengthen his qi, and refine his control of it. He would continue to perfect his body, getting stronger and faster. One day, he might even equal his master. And if he didn't, it was no big deal because no one else would be able to make him do push-ups on rocks or run hundreds of laps around the training ground, raising his knees high and breaking his legs if he did.

Nuying was very pretty and sweet. Even though she was still not comparable to Mei, she didn't need to be. The complete opposite of Jie Buntao in almost everything. Her very existence symbolized warmth and homeliness. Affectionate and warm, cheerful and carefree. She, like Xing, loved and appreciated good food, which meant that they would establish the very soulmate relationship sung in so many crystals and scrolls. She would always obey her husband, fulfill the duties of a wife perfectly, and bear and nurse children. In time, his attraction to Nuyin would grow into a strong love, allowing him to forget May and leave thoughts of her in the past.

Peace, wealth, interesting occupation, wife, family, children, and home. The best food in the world that money couldn't even buy. Bohai was offering him all that Han Nao had once dreamed of, the battered and bloodied heir to a great family, lying exhausted on the cold stones of the training ground, trying to do one more push-up with his fists on the sharp stone shards that had been carefully placed in the piles. Han echoed Feng. After all, this wasn't a beggar's village where one had to think about food 24 hours a day, searching the ground for worms and maggots. It was also a place to eat maggots but special green maggots from faraway lands, a bowl of which cost more than a village twice the size of Duozi.

You don't have to do anything. You just have to say one single word.

But for some reason, the word would never come to his tongue.

"I wish..." he finally muttered, "but..."

Bohai shone for a moment, then looked at Xing carefully and shook his head almost imperceptibly. He looked at Xing once more as if meeting Xing for the first time.

"But," Bohai repeated. "But..."

Xing couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Why did even trying to open his mouth fill his heart with a cold emptiness? Why was there always a sense of grim inevitability, of something final and irreparable happening?

If there were an enemy, even a thousand enemies, Xing would know what to do. He would have rushed into battle, perhaps attacked desperately, perhaps retreated, for in battle, he had never had such misunderstanding, such agony of decision-making. There were only enemies - beasts, fish, or men on one side and Xing on the other. And now it seemed clear, too, an endless list of advantages versus... versus the fervent words of a resentful child who remembered his previous life.

"I'm sorry, Master, I don't know what's happening to me," Xing admitted after a long pause. "But the words seemed to stick in my throat."

"It happens," Bohai agreed abruptly. "I can't say I didn't expect that answer."

Xing, who clutched a cup of tea in his hands and stared inside as if trying to find a clue, raised his head and bulged his eyes.

"Well, well, don't look so surprised," he laughed. "You know, I look at your determination, and I keep forgetting how young you are."

"This flaw will pass someday, Master," Xing smiled weakly.

"No doubt about it. But we're talking about you right now. Do you know why I took you on as an apprentice?"

"Because of the beasts?" Xing Xing blurted out, surprised and happy at the change of topic. "When I brought the beasts, and you came out after sensing my qi, you were overjoyed. And when I offered them all to you in exchange for apprenticeship, you didn't even hesitate."

"Not really," Bohai shook his head. "The animals... I can buy them that way. Yes, it would take a lot of money, not only to pay good hunters but also to buy talismans so that I wouldn't get a pile of stinking rotten meat. But that's just an expense that the customers end up paying for. And there's no commitment involved."

"Did you see how strong my qi is?" Xing put forward the next reasonable assumption.

Kind of. Yes, I saw your qi, and I liked the animals you brought. And I immediately decided that I should agree to your blatantly insolent request, even demand. After all, you could never, under any circumstances, rise above kitchen assistant, cook at most.

"But my qi..."

"Your qi was too strong. So much so it was blocking your path to the kitchen. You simply couldn't master my cooking techniques even if you spent two dozen years studying. You had the qi not of a cook but of a warrior or a blacksmith. And I'll be honest with you, it was much worse than not having qi at all."

"So you weren't going to teach me anything?" Xing asked resentfully.

"Why not?" Bohai shook his head. "I was going to stick firmly to the commitment I made. As long as the beasts you brought would not run out, I would teach you everything you could comprehend."

"There were enough beasts for six months, even more. Why didn't you kick me out then?"

"Wrong again. My commitment as a teacher was not one-sided. If you'd changed your mind and realized the kitchen wasn't your thing, I'd have let you go with a light heart. Until then, you saved me the trouble of buying talismans to keep not only your animals fresh but also the supplies for the restaurant."

"If I left, I could tell them everything! All your secrets!" Xing wouldn't give up.

"But the thing is, I don't have any special secrets. Yeah, you might know a couple of my recipes, but so what? It's not memorizing a list of ingredients that make a person a chef in the kitchen. It's personal skills and abilities, and who better to know that than you?"

"You said, "kind of." What's the other part? It's obviously not my knowledge of rare foods and how to eat them properly, is it?"

Bohai couldn't stand it and laughed. He leaned back in his chair and grasped his stomach. If it had been an ordinary big chef's belly, the gesture would have looked much more appropriate.

"You're right. It's not. You did know many names of beautiful dishes and could, as far as humanly possible, describe their flavor correctly. But you didn't know how to eat. No more than the peasant from the village you said you came from. Duohao, or whatever it was."

"Duojia," Xing corrected his mentor in a still resentful tone.

"Yes, yes, Duojia. Yes, you knew many names and ingredients, and I was really amazed at the amount of knowledge you had. But you didn't know how to eat at all. You couldn't appreciate the flavor of a dish because you weren't a true food connoisseur, but... Sorry, Xing, you were a garbage can that piled everything together to eventually turn to shit."

Xing lowered his eyes, recognizing that his mentor was right. He looked back with a bitter chuckle at the first time he had seen Official Fu and felt contempt for him because he had not eaten properly. Han Nao himself had eaten not better in his previous life.

"Now you know that cooking as well as eating is a true art. Each dish is like a beautiful painting, a scroll with calligraphy, or an elegant vase. And what would happen if a painter used not a blank canvas for his masterpiece, a master potter painted an already painted vase, or a philosopher wrote his sayings on top of several previous ones?"

Yes, the words of the mentor contained great wisdom. If you eat only delicious things all the time, changing from one delicacy to another, the taste dulls, and the food loses its charm. After Bohai's words, Xing had an epiphany, realizing that he used to eat like a pig. He was only wasting priceless food instead of savoring the exquisite dishes and honoring each and every one of them.

The funny thing is, no one in the world could put this revelation into words better than he himself, who once wrote on a scroll in Nao's house - Moderation brings certainty.

An excess of delicious things destroys taste, just as an excess of hard work in peasants kills their curiosity and desire to develop further. Those who worked hard and ate nothing sweeter than frost-beaten carrots would never be able to appreciate a three-layer plum pie, devouring it, swallowing it whole without tasting it in whole. But the only one who ate such pies all the time and for whom they had become too mundane was also able to taste only a hundredth of the true flavor.

It was especially important for a chef who prepared masterpiece after masterpiece not to become oversatiated and not to lose his bearings. After all, he constantly tastes his dishes. In this case, he would consider them, even unconsciously, not works of art but handicrafts that do not bring true pleasure but fill the stomach. Perhaps he would continue to be called a chef, and he would consider himself one. Except he would no longer be a master but a craftsman. The sign of such a "cook" was a large belly. And Han Nao's pride in his previous life his plump body only showed how far he was from being a connoisseur of fine food, a true gourmet.

"I see that I have given you something to think about," Bohai filled the pause. "I also see that you have come to some important conclusion."

"Rice," Xing replied. "Rice and chicken breast."

After all, it was rice, just cooked slightly salted rice, that was the canvas that allowed the culinary masterpiece to unfold. And unleavened fibrous chicken breast gave strength and helped to grow muscles strained from hard work, but at the same time did not interfere in any way to feel all the myriad shades of flavor of the other dishes. A true food of the gods!

"Exactly," confirmed the mentor. "What was it you said? Well, such a funny barbarian Аh! Absolutely!"

Xing nodded slowly. Before the realization had hit him, the words about the importance of simple dishes had been nothing. Now, it seemed so simple and obvious that he wanted to tear his hair out. How had he not realized it before?

"So, you asked what my 'partly' meant," Bohai continued. "Yes, partly I wanted to use your ingredients and skills, waiting for you to leave or to be stuck in the kitchen as a cook forever. And I wasn't risking anything here. But part of the reason I took you was because I saw your eyes. You were driven by purpose, by longing, by unfulfilled desire. A man with such eyes can overcome all adversity and break through all obstacles that arise in his path. For you, this obstacle was too strong qi. I showed you all the ways I know to curb it, but I have never come across such severe cases, and I did not believe it would help. You managed to surprise me because you, working day and night, forgetting about sleep and rest, and still managed to overcome an insoluble problem. But you know what's funny?"

"What, Master?"

"The only way you could have stayed here was to remain mediocre. Because the thirst that drove you over the hurdles would inevitably drive you on. You're an excellent knife-wielder. You have excellent skills. Your hands are very powerful. And an employee like that will always come in handy in my kitchen. But a mere employee will never become my true apprentice, whose name I will call proudly. So I knew if you were really worth anything, you'd leave one day."

"You are right, Master," Xing whispered, realizing the simple truth.

He really could have stayed, but no matter how much Xing consoled himself that he would surpass the master, it was only a lie of complacency. He would be different, so there was no way he would be like the masterer, and then all the hurtful words the bastard had said in his past life would be true. The mere idea made his heart heavy, and his stomach twisted as if his thoughts had become a spoiled chowder that caused indigestion and vomiting.

"I could bind you with obligations and promises," Bohai continued, "force you to fulfill your apprenticeship. Send you to marry Nuyin. But if you don't love her. If you don't have the heart to continue working in my restaurant, it will only bring misfortune. Not only for you but for me and my whole family. The more powerful a person is, the more trouble they can cause. With your strength and skill, it would have been tragic. You know, I was like that once. No, I'm not talking about demons. When I was young, the road of adventure led me too, but then I realized that eating on the run is hard and dangerous for my stomach, even more so when it comes to cooking! Eventually, I realized where I belonged and found true peace. Go if the road calls you too, but don't forget who you are and what you have achieved!"

He held out to Xing a medallion made of rare scarlet jade: three crossed knives, the emblem of Bohai himself, bearing the imprint of his qi. A true token of apprenticeship.

"Thank you, Master," Xing accepted the medallion with a bow.

"Don't thank me for that. After all, you have passed the exam and are worthy," Bohai replied. "But remember that you can always come back. The doors of my restaurant and my house are open to you at any time."

"I will remember, Master," Xing rose and bowed once more.

Under Bohai's surprised gaze, he quickly, almost jogging, left the empty hall, only to return shortly afterward. Luckily, his mentor hadn't left yet.

"I don't know if this can express even a thousandth of what I feel," Xing said, holding out the bundle to the master. "But I'll try. I had to wait until after the exam because otherwise, I wouldn't know whether or not it affected your judgment."

Bohai unwrapped the bundle and stared at the contents. Finally, he removed the belt with his knives from his waist and placed it on the table next to the gift. In the sheaths made from the most durable and beautiful beast skins of the Forest of a Dozen Steps, three knives - pian dao, cai dao, and zhuzhou dao - glistened with Purple Oak hilt. Bohai picked up the gift and buckled it around his belt. He snatched the two knives and deftly twisted them in his palms. In the light of the qi lights that illuminated the restaurant hall, the Star Steel shone with an otherworldly luster.

The mentor made a few lightning swings, tossed one of the knives into the air, snatched a third knife from its sheath, made a stabbing motion with it, returned both knives to his belt, extended his palm, on which the hilt of the fallen cleaver immediately slapped.

"Balance," Bohai muttered in amazement. "It's just the way I'm used to it! And the metal! Qi flows so easily. It's like it's part of my body!"

Xing grinned widely. The sword of the dastardly chief Gao which was once used for atrocities, but after the weapon had been reshaped, now that Star Iron had been transformed into Star Steel under Xing's hammer, these knives would faithfully serve the mentor for good deeds.

"Master," Xing continued to smile, "I've been studying with you for over two years. Of course, I know what kind of knives you have! That's why I forged one you won't need to get used to again."

"Truly, a gift worthy of an Emperor!" replied Bohai. "Now go! I'm getting too sentimental, and I'll decide that letting you go is the worst decision of my life!"

Xing bowed, ran back into his room, slung the prepared basket on his shoulders, slipped the chain behind his back, and picked up a neat bundle of wood, the color of which only gave away its noble origin.

He ran outside and looked around. The entire city, except for Master Bohai, whose qi showed wakefulness and a complex mixture of emotions, had already fallen into slumber. Xing chuckled slyly and jumped into the air, ending up on the roof of the restaurant near the signboard. He placed his hands on the signboard, and the sturdy, varnished wood seemed to turn into thick molasses flowing down in a wide puddle.

A bundle of wood fell in place of the destroyed signboard. Previously, the Purple Oak had only had to be cut and chopped, but now, after two years in the restaurant, Xing had learned how to control qi on a new, unattainable level. He transformed his internal energy into the Tree element and channeled it into wood. The wood, which previously required the strongest techniques and sharpest qi-filled tools, began to change shape in obedience to his will. A little while later, when Xing had already jumped to the ground, the new signboard on the Three Knives Restaurant differed from the old one only in its richer and richer color. Except it cost more than half of the buildings in this not-so-poor neighborhood combined.

* * *

Chapter 19, in which the hero learns that the sweetest elixirs sometimes turn out to be very bitter