The scent of pine needles and damp earth hung heavy in the air, but Lin Feng didn't notice. He was lost in a world of flavors, the delicate aroma of stir-fried mushrooms and spicy ginger filling his senses. His hands moved with practiced ease, a symphony of motion as he chopped, stirred, and seasoned. He'd mastered the art of cooking in a mere three months, his senses heightened, his movements precise, his creations a testament to a culinary genius that defied all logic.
He was in a world of cultivation, where humans harnessed spiritual energy to reshape their bodies and conquer the universe. He was here, a nobody, a stranger in a strange land, yet he felt a strange sense of comfort in this small, wooden kitchen. The system had given him this—this talent, this skill, this strange ability to create culinary masterpieces that made even the most seasoned chefs gasp in awe. He was a master of the mundane, a beacon of culinary artistry in a world obsessed with the extraordinary.
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside, her eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in elegant silk robes, her hair tied back with a golden ribbon. She had a regal presence, yet her brow furrowed with a hint of suspicion. She was Empress Yu, the ruler of the Crimson Empire, and she was not amused.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding, her gaze sweeping over the small, tidy kitchen.
Lin Feng paused, his hands still, a look of confusion clouding his features. "I'm Lin Feng," he replied, his voice a quiet murmur, "I've been living here for a few months."
"Living here?" Yu scoffed, a hint of mockery in her voice. "This is my family's estate. You're trespassing."
"Trespassing?" Lin Feng echoed, his mind racing. He was lost in a world of magic and cultivation, surrounded by beings who could move mountains with a flick of their wrist, but he didn't even know how to channel a drop of Qi. He was a master chef, a skilled musician, a storyteller of captivating tales, yet he was a complete novice in this world of Qi and cultivation.
"You have no right to be here," Yu said, her voice laced with a hint of icy authority. "Leave before I call my guards."
Lin Feng glanced at the half-prepared meal, the pan of simmering broth, the delicate array of spices. He had never felt so helpless, so lost, so completely out of his depth. He had mastered the art of cooking, of music, of storytelling, but he couldn't even defend himself. He was a fish out of water, a stranger in a world he didn't understand.
"What are you doing here?" Yu pressed, her eyes narrowed, her hand instinctively reaching for her sword.
Lin Feng hesitated, his mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions. He had no answer, no explanation. He was lost, confused, and afraid. He was a stranger in a strange world, and his only refuge was the skills the system had gifted him.
He looked at her, at the regal woman who stood before him, and a surge of defiance coursed through him. He wasn't a cultivator, he couldn't move mountains, but he could cook. He could craft a dish that would make her forget her anger, her suspicion, her disdain. He could feed her, nourish her, and in doing so, earn her respect.
"I'm cooking," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Would you care to join me?"
Yu stared at him, her lips curving into a skeptical smile. "You're a strange one," she said, her eyes sparkling with a newfound curiosity.
She stepped closer, intrigued by the young man who dared to challenge her. He might be a nobody, a nobody in this world of cultivation, but he was a master of his craft. And that, in itself, was something extraordinary.