MM Racing Chapter 958 Gazing at the Stars (Please refresh)
Chapter 958 Gazing at the Stars (Please refresh)
Chapter 958 Gazing at the Stars (Please refresh)
"Not up to par. In some places in the ordinary world, he might be a master chef, but in a competition like this, he doesn't stand out much."
The harpy put down the unfinished golden shrimp balls, shook her head and sighed unhappily, seemingly regretting the time wasted in savoring the dish.
"What? This isn't up to standard? It's so delicious and it's not up to standard? What kind of food can be up to standard?" Paimon said, looking indignant.
"Can you explain why?" Kong grabbed Paimon's collar.
“Tasteful and qualified are not directly related,” the harpy said. “Like I said, these dishes would probably attract many gourmets in the modern world, but where is this?”
"Delicious, but lacking any extraordinary highlights, relatively mediocre—that's why you're unqualified." The burly, bald orc put down his chopsticks and added regretfully:
“If such dishes were to fall into the mouths of those adults, my 327-year career as a judge would be over.”
They looked up at the high platform and saw many rulers radiating the dark malice of the abyss, and living gods who remained sacred even in hell.
The big shots are the final judges, while the junior judges' job is simply to filter out the mediocre and incompetent contestants.
Although the young man prepared a lot of dishes and could sense a hint of resentment towards his travel companions' picky tastes and a pursuit of perfection, it was still far inferior to those unknown culinary masters and long-established culinary legends.
"Useless." A vampire took out a silk handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth.
The three judges were of one mind and were about to leave for the next group of contestants' stoves.
"Wait a little longer, we still have one contestant's dish to finish!" Paimon still tried to persuade them to stay.
"That's the apprentice who came with you, isn't it? You can tell from their technique that they're not the Demon Chef." The orc judge exposed Paimon's reasoning, refuting the claim: "Give up, this isn't your place."
Shila-
crackling
A flash of lightning and a crackling sound streaked across the sky, and the three judges on the panel froze in their tracks as a tingling sensation spread down their spines and into their brains.
At the same time, an explosion, accompanied by a deafening roar, erupted from behind.
"Cough cough." The woman with dark purple hair looked displeased. She waved her hand to fan away the smoke and dust, staring at the viscous, dark liquid in the pot, lost in thought.
Done
Paimon let his hands hang limply.
“I told you I really can’t cook,” Lei Yingdian said, frowning.
"Indeed, this is not food."
The judges darted to the pool of thick liquid, scooped out a piece that looked like a dumpling with a spoon, and, amidst Paimon and Kong's blank expressions, put it in their mouths and chewed it carefully.
In an instant, a tingling sensation surged from the tip of the tongue into the mouth, creating a secondary explosion along with the completely destroyed food molecules.
It was as if all the source matter had been annihilated in the thunderstorm, leaving his mind blank, with only the sharp lightning that would explode again the moment his consciousness returned, repeating this cycle until the food in his throat was completely swallowed.
It's like repeatedly teetering on the brink of death, only to return to the human world.
No.
They were let go.
The noble deity, who was in control of life and death, received a brief pardon from the mighty and thunderous hell.
This dish is imbued with divine power; it's no ordinary dish.
"This is art!"
After regaining their composure, the three judges gave a unified assessment and bowed deeply to the person in front of them to apologize.
"Please forgive us for mistaking the chef who accompanied the contestant for the head chef and overlooking your presence. Our eyesight really needs improvement."
"However, I would appreciate it if you could embellish the plating and add some flavoring spices," the orc judge suggested.
In the end, the judges unanimously agreed that the group had passed the selection.
After they left, a group of onlookers, afraid of being left behind, swarmed over, begging to have a bowl to try.
"Huh?" Lei Yingdian snapped out of his daze and stared blankly at the dish he had made.
Seeing this, Paimon, as if possessed, dipped his finger in the mixture and tasted it.
thump.
His eyes rolled back and he slumped onto the table, falling into a deep 'sleep,' as if he had been dazed by the incense.
"Would you like some too?" Lei Yingdian asked his two former colleagues.
"..." Zhong Li reached out and grabbed Wendy, who was tiptoeing away.
"Grandpa, I've found myself far too idle lately. I think I'd better go back to Mondstadt to fulfill my duties as a god," Wendy said hastily. "You all eat, don't worry about me."
Lei Yingdong handed over the bowl of dark purple, viscous liquid: "Eat your fill before you go back. Thank you for inviting me."
Gulu.
Wendy noticed a glimmer of hope in Ray's eyes and stared blankly into the bowl.
It was probably the comments from those pica judges and diners that gave her confidence.
Why did I choose to take advantage of the old man to come here for free drinks, and why did I bring up Balzeb?
"Gulu.Gulu"
Wendy's pupils gradually dilated, and some past memories surfaced, seemingly the Knights of Favonius calling out.
The Wind God was assassinated, and the entire area was sealed off.
The competition is in full swing. Although the declaration of war by the Bright Culinary World has aroused the fighting spirit of the culinary demons, there are also a few isolated cases.
The "Cooking Demon" team was randomly assigned a real-life chef by the competition organizing committee without any prepared teammates.
“Listen, buddy, I don’t know how you got in here, but the thing is, I don’t get any satisfaction from defeating you or freezing you in place.” A fourth-tier Berserker undead knight pointed to the various mashed potato dishes on the table of the blond knight next to him:
"Do you know what King Arthur's last words were when he died tragically at Camlann?! He said he never wanted to eat mashed potatoes again! Why are there still cooks like you in this day and age who can only make mashed potatoes?!"
“Your Excellency, you should try my mashed potatoes before you speak,” Gawain said confidently, arms crossed. “Besides, King Arthur would never utter such an insult to potatoes!”
"Do you understand King Arthur or do I?! I followed King Arthur back in the day! Was it the mashed potatoes' fault?!" Wild Hunt slammed his fist on the table in a fit of rage, then squatted down, clutching his throbbing head.
"Your presence does nothing to enhance my work, nor does it earn me any points in front of the judges, because that pile of mashed potatoes is even less valuable than hell slime!"
For such a high-profile competition, even with a large number of participants, the organizing committee of Chef's Magic should at least verify whether the participants are chefs.
A knight who can only make mashed potatoes is no good cook, even if he makes mashed potatoes into flowers!
It was awful to see this potato hell; the undead body could even feel its blood pressure rising.
Wait a minute, being able to do that seems to require some talent.
"I'm a chef who has completed the [Hellish Chef's Order] six times." Wild Hunt suddenly stood up and said to Gawain, "Hey, knight over there, let me teach you something new."
"Pour your will, emotions, passion, and even soul into your cooking. Make mashed potatoes like a culinary master. If you truly have an extreme love for potatoes, don't waste them."
That potato hell that fills most of our lives should not be something we have to bear alone. Arthur, King Arthur, who sleeps eternally in hell, you must think the same way.
"Please enlighten me!" Gawain straightened his back: "I very much wish to bring even more delicious potato dishes to my king and master!"
Hidden beneath his visor, the Wild Hunt's lips curled into a frenzied smile: "Very good."
I will hand over the hellish recipe that Gawain, that bastard of fish and potato, painstakingly developed, to this potato knight in front of me.
"Is there some unfulfilled wish that you brought that broken soul and body to this place to participate in the cooking competition?" the man in the elegant black butler uniform asked curiously.
"..." Emiya Alter realized what was happening and looked at the diary in his hand, which recorded his reason for coming here: "Someone wanted to see me participate in the competition, so I came."
"I see. That's why I came to participate in the competition. It was because Master said so that I did so." The butler sighed, "If you had accepted the Abyss's Embrace and solidified, it would probably have been much easier for you, wouldn't it?"
He looked at Emiya Alter before him. Although the muscle memory etched into his body revealed a skillful use of a kitchen knife, judging from his movements, he probably had long forgotten how much seasoning to add.
Even the Salt King of America, who loved to sprinkle salt on his elbows, wouldn't dare use such a lethal amount of salt.
"What is Abyss. Solidification?" Emiya Alter asked, puzzled.
"You've forgotten this too?" The butler methodically chopped the ingredients. "Your memory and soul have been twisted to this extent, yet your core has not fallen. Rather, it's as if your soul hangs in the sky like a star."
"If I hadn't already found a master to serve for life, I might have wanted to sign a pact with a martyr like you and acquire a precious treasure."
Emiya Alter glanced at him, then ignored him and continued processing the ingredients based on the unfamiliar handwriting he had previously written down in his notebook. Next to him were chibi versions of a bear and Shina, with a note that read, "[Do your best, Shirou]".
“That kind of food is inedible, even a culinary demon wouldn’t eat it.” The butler pushed the baking tray into the oven, came to Emiya Alter’s side, and smiled:
"As a butler of the Phantomhive family, although I cannot form a contract with you, I am very eager to taste your soul. Oh dear, please don't make such a murderous move."
The butler remained calm as the other party took out a strangely shaped gun blade.
"Don't get me wrong, I mean you can try to save this dish by infusing it with your own soul."
The butler revealed a sly, fox-like smile and began to demonstrate his skill with his hands: "This is a unique, exclusive technique."
After a while.
The judges and deacons, covered in blood, collapsed to the ground, feeling the pain of countless illusory blades tearing their flesh apart and severing their lifelong beliefs.
A soul that has betrayed itself treads a path strewn with iron thorns, weary and desperate, continuing its slaughter on the road to the abyss, decaying and falling into depravity, until finally, with a sliver of remaining hope, it gazes at the stars from hell.
For the first time, they felt their bodies and souls shattering in self-contradiction. Even a tiny fragment of their souls, clinging to the will to resist, shed the corrosive power of the abyss and ultimately vanished into the world.
Everything seemed like a fleeting illusion.
"Let's call this dish 'Looking Up at the Stars'."
Unable to get up, the butler licked the soup from the corner of his mouth and said, "Your Excellency, I admit that this dish has surpassed my culinary career."
And so, yet another dish was selected and served on the gods' table.
Not far away, in the very center of the stadium.
While watching the group match between "Cook Demon" Huai Shi and "Cook Master" Emiya Shirou, Fujimaru Ritsuka was patted on the shoulder by Mash next to her.
"Senior, is it alright for so many Chaldea Servants to participate in the competition?"
"It's okay, just think of it as everyone coming here to learn cooking skills."
Fujimaru Ritsuka waved her hand.
"But even Lord Gawain and Emiya Alter..."
"It's okay, Mashu. It's all about participation. We didn't really expect them to make it to the finals anyway."
Fujimaru Ritsuka glanced at her personal communication device, which displayed messages from various Servants: "Mash, look, everyone seems pretty happy. Karna, Rasputin, and Gawain all said they brought me some delicious food, which I can enjoy when I get back to Chaldea."
I've been getting off work a little late these past few nights. This chapter has 3400 words, I'll post it first.
(End of this chapter)