The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I was greeted by the sharp clang of a ladle striking a pot and an even sharper voice.

  “Absolutely not!” the cook snapped, his face red as he pointed at me. “If you rent the kitchen, how am I supposed to cook for the customers? The inn’s reputation will suffer, and the losses—”

  “It’ll be compensated,” I said calmly. “Every last bit.”

  The cook scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”

  I turned my head slightly. “Right, Tao Fang? Tao Yu? You’ll compensate the inn. And the cook.”

  Both of them froze.

  Tao Yu opened her mouth. “Senior, I—”

  Before she could finish, Tao Fang clamped a hand over her mouth and laughed awkwardly. “Of course! Of course! If it’s for our benefactor, this old man would gladly compensate. Reputation, silver, whatever is needed.”

  He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “But we’ll stay and watch. I must see this dish you’re making.”

  The cook frowned. “Just what is this… fried chicken?”

  “It’s food from my hometown,” I replied.

  Behind him, the waitress leaned closer and whispered, “Master Cook, you should allow it. Cultivators and even the lord have shown interest in him.”

  The cook stiffened as fear flickered across his face, though he still managed to show a brave front as he glared at me. I wondered how badly the rumors had been distorted, but then again, cultivators and lords tended to have that effect.

  “…Fine,” the cook muttered at last. “But I want to watch. I’m curious what kind of dish could cause this much trouble.”

  With that many eyes on me, I felt an unfamiliar pressure. Still, I had lived alone long enough to know my way around a kitchen, even if I often resorted to takeout back on Earth. The chicken had already been prepared, which spared me some effort. I rubbed the pieces generously with salt, crushed garlic, and herbs, pressing harder than usual as I worked.

  Tao Fang sniffed the air. “That fragrance… intriguing.”

  Next, I heated milk until it was warm, dissolved salt, garlic, and herbs into it, and submerged the chicken.

  “We wait twenty minutes,” I said.

  The cook soon lost interest and returned to preparing orders for the front, though he kept glancing over at me. Clearly, I wasn’t actually in his way. When the time was up, I patted the chicken dry and coated each piece thoroughly in flour.

  Finally, the frying.

  They didn’t have cooking oil like back on Earth, so I used lard instead. I heated it in the pan until it sizzled, then laid the chicken in skin-side down.

  The sound alone drew attention.

  I turned each piece carefully with a wooden spatula, frying until the surface turned a deep golden brown and the juices ran clear.

  Tao Fang swallowed. “It looks… remarkably appetizing.”

  Tao Yu nodded, eyes fixed on the pan. “It smells so good. Senior, I’m hungry.”

  I plated the chicken and set it down.

  The cook hesitated. “May I… taste it?”

  I eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “One piece.”

  The same went for Tao Fang and Tao Yu.

  “It’s hot,” I warned.

  They each took a bite.

  Tao Yu’s eyes widened. “It’s crispy…”

  The cook stared at the piece in his hand, chewing slowly, his earlier hostility forgotten.

  I bit into my own drumstick. It was… acceptable.

  Tao Fang finished his piece first.

  He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, as if afraid the taste might escape if he hurried. When he finally swallowed, he let out a long breath.

  “Good,” he said solemnly. “No, excellent. Crisp on the outside, tender within, and the flavor seeps all the way to the bone. This old man has lived many decades and yet has never tasted anything like this.”

  Tao Yu was far less restrained.

  Her eyes sparkled as she took another bite, grease glistening on her fingers. “Senior! This is amazing! It’s crunchy, but it’s not dry at all. How can meat be like this?” She looked at the drumstick as if it were a treasure. “If this were sold outside, I’d line up every day.”

  I glanced at the cook.

  He hadn’t moved.

  The piece of chicken in his hand was half-eaten, forgotten. His eyes were wide, unfocused, as if his soul had left his body and was still struggling to return.

  “…Hey,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

  The cook suddenly snapped back to reality. His hands began to tremble. To my absolute horror, he took two steps forward, and fell to his knees with a loud thud.

  “Master!” he cried. “Please accept me as your disciple!”

  “What, hey! Don’t do that!” I jumped back instinctively. “Get up! It’s just fried chicken!”

  He pressed his forehead to the floor. “No, no, no! This is not ‘just’ anything! I have cooked my entire life, yet I never imagined fat and heat could be used like this. This technique… this harmony of texture and flavor… it’s revolutionary!”

  Tao Fang stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Mm. I suppose kneeling is not entirely unreasonable.”

  “Tao Fang!” I snapped.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Tao Yu giggled, covering her mouth. “Senior, you’ve broken him.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Listen. I’m not taking disciples. Ever.”

  The cook looked up, stricken. “Then… then what must I do?”

  I exhaled and waved my hand. “I’ll give you the recipe. Freely. No payment, no kneeling, no calling me master.”

  His eyes lit up. “R-really?”

  “But I have one condition.”

  He straightened immediately. “Anything.”

  I met his gaze. “You don’t just copy it. You improve it. Change the seasoning. Try different coatings. Fry it differently. Come up with new kinds of fried chicken.”

  The cook froze, his breathing grew rapid, as if I had handed him a divine revelation.

  “…Different kinds,” he whispered. “You mean… this is only the beginning?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “If you’re going to cook it, then take responsibility for it.”

  He bowed deeply, not kneeling this time, but with genuine respect. “I swear it. I will not let this dish stagnate.”

  Tao Yu clapped her hands. “Does that mean there will be more fried chicken?”

  Tao Fang nodded gravely. “A noble pursuit.”

  “Cook, you should return to your duties,” I told the man before me, pulling him up. “The rest of your customers might start complaining.”

  “Y-yes, sir…”

  I guessed that when I had the time, I should try reading culinary books to get a sense of this world’s food culture and standards. Who knew? There might even be money to be made there. Not that I had the leisure for it right now.

  I stayed in the kitchen and ate my fried chicken while it was still hot.

  Tao Yu tried to sneak a piece from the plate.

  I slapped her hand away without mercy.

  “Ow! Senior!” she protested.

  “This one’s mine, and the same goes for the rest,” I said flatly. “You already had your share.”

  She puffed her cheeks and turned away, muttering under her breath.

  As I ate, I turned to Tao Fang. “Old man, what do common people really think of cultivators?”

  Tao Fang paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Then he chuckled and gestured with his chin toward the cook. “Why ask this old fellow? There is someone better suited to answer that question.”

  I followed his gaze.

  The cook was back at his stove, working through the lunch orders, but he was clearly distracted. Every time I took a bite, his eyes flicked over, then quickly away, as if afraid of being caught staring.

  The cook hesitated, then spoke while stirring a pot. “To most people like us, cultivators are… myths. Stories you hear at night, or legends passed down with exaggerated details. Even if one lived in the same city, I don’t think I’d want to meet them. The stories rarely end well for ordinary folk.”

  Tao Yu tilted her head. “But lots of youths want to see cultivators, don’t they?”

  The cook nodded. “That’s true. Young people are curious. They want to see miracles with their own eyes, even if it means offending someone they shouldn’t. Like Elder Tao said, the perception varies greatly. Ask an old person and a young person the same question, and you’ll get two very different answers.”

  “At most,” he added, “the closest thing we usually see are martial artists. Maybe, if we’re lucky, a real cultivator passing through with the lord’s guests.”

  Tao Fang nodded. “Martial artists may appear similar, but they have yet to step onto the true path of cultivation.”

  Tao Yu sighed. “It’s complicated. Martial artists can perform feats beyond ordinary people, but cultivators are different. They live longer. They transcend the mortal coil.”

  She looked almost reverent as she spoke. “To me, a cultivator is a heroic existence, someone who carries out heaven’s will and promotes goodness in the world.”

  Tao Fang laughed and rubbed her head. “That’s my granddaughter for you.”

  “Grandfather!” Tao Yu snapped, swatting his hand away. “Cut it out!”

  I finished the last piece of chicken, wiped my fingers, and leaned back. “By the way, has anyone seen the Thunder Hooves?”

  Tao Fang frowned slightly. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen them in some time.”

  Tao Yu nodded. “I remember them saying they were investigating a case involving a demonic human. That was another reason they came to Xincheng, aside from seeing the visiting cultivators and hoping to be recruited.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  A demonic human, huh?

  We left the Red Ember Inn together, the midday bustle of the streets closing in around us.

  As we walked, I asked, “What exactly is a demonic human?”

  Tao Yu answered without hesitation. “They’re often simply called demons. It’s a broad category for people or creatures that walk the wicked path.”

  She counted on her fingers as she spoke. “It can happen for many reasons. Corrupted martial arts, qi deviation within one’s system, cannibalism, man-eating beasts, or anything that deviates from the righteous path and stirs the darkness within one’s lake.”

  “Lake?” I repeated.

  Tao Fang nodded. “It is a concept from our Peaceful Lake Sect. Each person has a lake within them, one that mirrors their spiritual balance. When the lake is calm, the heart is steady. When it is stirred, darkness may surface.”

  He sighed, his expression turning grave. “I am worried about the four young martial artists of the Thunder Hooves. They are talented, but also young and brash.”

  Tao Yu waved her hand dismissively. “From what I’ve heard, the demon they’re after is only a third-rate martial artist of the demonic path. Even if that demon suddenly gained explosive strength, it shouldn’t be enough to defeat the Thunder Hooves. They possess first-rate martial arts.”

  Tao Fang shook his head. “That is exactly what troubles me. It has been a week, and they have not returned. Something feels… off. There may be more to this case than we are aware of.”

  I slowed my steps. “Do either of you know where we could start looking for them?”

  Part of me knew it might be wiser to wait for Meng Rong and make use of the constable position she had promised. But rushing her would only put me in her debt, and I wasn’t eager to put a chain around my neck. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to try on our own first. If we found nothing, we could always rely on her later.

  Tao Yu thought for a moment. “If I had to guess, I’d start south. Maybe a brothel. Or the courtesan house to the east. That’s what I heard the places they were thinking of investigating, though.”

  Tao Fang coughed lightly. “As it happens, I was at the courtesan house yesterday.”

  Tao Yu stopped walking and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

  Tao Fang straightened, faking another cough. “Ahem. I merely overheard some talk. The Thunder Hooves were there a few days ago. They left after finishing their business.”

  “Grandfather,” Tao Yu said coldly, “what business would that be?”

  Tao Fang looked away. “Investigative business, of course.”

  Her glare intensified.

  He hurriedly added, “If they were investigating such places, then it would narrow down their suspect pool.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Then that’s our starting point.”

  Since we might be expecting a fight soon, I decided it was best to prepare while I still could.

  The experience gained from [Quest: Yakuza Man’s Fried Chicken] had pushed me over the threshold, and I spent the newly acquired points without hesitation, reinforcing my body rather than chasing flashy tricks.

  The familiar translucent panel hovered before my eyes for a brief moment.

  [NAME: YAKUZA MAN]

  [LEVEL: 111]

  Health: 100%

  Energy: 100%

  Awesomeness: 45 + 5

  Swiftness: 32

  Toughness: 32

  Life Token: 2 / 3

  [INVENTORY]

  [SHOP]

  It wasn’t spectacular, but at this point, survival mattered more than style.

  We headed south, leaving the denser streets behind as the atmosphere subtly changed. The buildings grew more lavish, the streets cleaner, and the number of guards noticeably higher.

  As we walked, a question that had been nagging at me surfaced. “What’s the difference between a courtesan house and a brothel?”

  Tao Yu glanced at me in surprise. “You’ve never been to either?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. “Where I come from, that sort of thing is illegal.”

  The Yakuza Man within me scoffed loudly, but I ignored him.

  Tao Fang cleared his throat and took it upon himself to explain. “A courtesan house is a place where distinguished gentlemen gather to be entertained by women of refinement. Music, poetry, painting, etiquette, conversation… these are their crafts.”

  He paused, his tone turning firm. “Romance between guest and courtesan is strictly prohibited. Each woman’s virginity is protected. What they sell is not the body, but a carefully cultivated fantasy.”

  I raised a brow. “So marriage?”

  “Possible,” Tao Fang said, nodding. “But costly. The man must pay a hefty dowry to both the courtesan house and her family. Taking such a woman away is considered a great loss of talent and prestige.”

  Tao Yu narrowed her eyes at him. “Grandfather… why do you know so much about this?”

  Tao Fang coughed lightly. “In my youth, I worked as an escort warrior for a courtesan house.”

  She stopped walking. “You did what?”

  He smiled faintly, a rare trace of nostalgia crossing his face. “That is where I met your grandmother.”

  Tao Yu froze, then looked away, her ears slowly turning red.

  Tao Fang continued calmly, “In this society, being a courtesan is a misunderstood profession. In truth, it is often a respectable one. Unlike a brothel.”

  “And a brothel?” I asked.

  His expression darkened. “Brothels deal in flesh. Most of the women there are victims, sold, coerced, or trapped by circumstances and evil men. It is the true face of the sex trade.”

  He glanced at Tao Yu meaningfully. “Life is rarely black and white. If you judge too quickly, you may condemn the wrong people.”

  Tao Yu fell silent, absorbing his words.