'Am I going to die?'
Bu Fang asked himself. He had never been so confused before. The scenes in the restaurants of one hundred Hosts flashed in his eyes; all kinds of faces that were charmed or intoxicated by delicious food kept provoking him.
He panted. He had come a long way to bring his cooking skill to the current height, but perhaps he had really abandoned something during the journey. What was the meaning of cooking? Was it only to achieve more advanced cooking skills? Was it to become the number one chef in the universe?
Bu Fang's body seemed to be disintegrating. He could not think. At this moment, his spirit sea already turned into a mess. The Artifact Spirits were leaving him. It seemed to him that the spiritual connection between them had vanished. It was a bad feeling, which made him breathless.
