As such, thinking of something, Lin Huang said, "Master, it appears junior sister is hungry. I heard when one hasn't eaten for many days, their face would turn pale."
Wang Chen nodded thoughtfully, then ordered in an indifferent tone, "Lin Huang, cook something for your junior sister to eat."
"Huh?" Lin Huang blinked, completely thrown off. Of all the things he expected to be asked to do, cooking was not one of them.
Seeing the expression on his face, Wang Chen arched a brow. "What's this? Don't tell me you find it embarrassing to cook for your junior sister?"
"Master, when did I ever say that?"
"Then why are you standing there? Wisely get to work."
"..." Lin Huang sighed inwardly. There was no arguing with Master when he used that tone.
Li Mei, on the other hand, stayed silent. The shock in her heart was far greater than when she had first found herself returned to her youth. She needed time to digest everything.
The matter of the Ten Thousand Ghost Flag? Forgotten. Compared to the chaos she'd stumbled into, what were Bloodfang and that demon worth? Nothing.
Meanwhile, Lin Huang headed toward the kitchen. Soon, a faint hiss echoed from the alchemical stove, followed by the rise of black smoke that twisted upward like ghostly fog.
The scene alone was enough to jolt Li Mei out of her stupor.
"...Senior brother," she whispered with a trembling smile, "the Realm Destroyer is cooking for me."
If those arrogant ancient families from the Upper Realm could see this—Lin Huang, the cold-hearted calamity who once erased their bloodlines—standing here awkwardly before a pot of half-burnt rice… Li Mei couldn't help but imagine their faces.
The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.
.
.
Three Days Later
The dojo felt different. Lin Huang's push-ups echoed through the courtyard like the distant roar of a dragon, and Li Mei's terror had faded into a strange, wary curiosity. Three days had been enough for her heart to calm—enough to grow accustomed to the presence of the man who, in her past life, had destroyed realms.
Meanwhile, Wang Chen lay back in a creaking rocking chair with his eyes closed. His mind had mostly recovered from the mental fatigue of his last run in the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, though he decided to rest one more day before attempting the first floor again.
Then, a familiar chime. A blue window appeared before him.
[Congratulations, host! Daily task 'Divinity in Small Things' completed. Reward: One year of cultivation in a worldly spring.]
After Wang Chen had taken Lin Huang as his first disciple, he no longer needed to lift a finger to clean the courtyard. Once Lin Huang swept, the system automatically delivered the reward.
But as Wang Chen examined the glowing screen, a surge of incredibly pure qi erupted inside his meridians. His body stiffened in shock. Guiding the current carefully, he drew it toward his dantian between his brows.
The qi was so dense and nourishing that the bottleneck he'd been stuck at for months shattered instantly. Wang Chen's aura surged skyward, breaking into the seventh layer of the Qi Refining Realm.
He was now a late-stage cultivator—strong enough to be considered a small powerhouse in this imperial city.
Heart pounding, he immediately called up his status window.
[Name: Wang Chen]
[Lifespan: 25/35]
[Race: Mortal]
[Cultivation: Rank 7 Qi Refining Realm]
[Talent: Tower of Infinite Enlightenment (Divine), Caring Heart (Unique)]
[Abilities: Blade Heart (Infant Stage)]
[Techniques: Three Turn Sword Style]
[Potential: Miserable (Raise one Qi Refining disciple to improve potential)]
One look—and his face darkened. His lifespan hadn't changed. Not even by a day. Nine years left.
Wang Chen's fingers twitched. "You've got to be kidding me…"
He had two heaven-defying disciples, a divine system, and a cultivation breakthrough—yet Heaven still refused to extend his miserable life?
It was too unfair.
He cursed the heavens in his heart, but the status window didn't care. Even though his second disciple, Li Mei, was already at the peak of Qi Refining, the remark "raise one Qi Refining disciple" remained unchanged.
Did that mean he needed to raise one disciple from the first level all the way to the peak?
Sighing, Wang Chen leaned back. Lin Huang had the potential to become a Sword Saint. Surely that wouldn't take ten years... right?
As if mocking him, his left eye twitched violently.
"Oh no," Wang Chen muttered, face paling. "Don't tell me..."
In the Dragon Continent, a twitching left eye signified misfortune. The last thing he needed was a prophetic muscle spasm confirming his death countdown.
Neither of his disciples had any idea about their master's internal panic.
Under the shade of the bodhi tree, Li Mei watched Lin Huang training a few paces away. His push-ups were steady, unhurried, almost ritualistic.
She tilted her head in confusion. Why?
What good were these mundane exercises? Shouldn't he be cultivating qi instead?
But she kept her thoughts to herself. Lin Huang, after all, was someone who had once stood above gods. His methods were beyond her comprehension.
After finishing, Lin Huang didn't rest. He wiped his sweat, walked into the library, and—as usual—picked up the same old book labeled "6: The World Around Us."
As usual, he couldn't understand anything except one word—atom.
The more he read, the worse the headache became. His temples pounded until he finally gave up, shut the book, and exhaled softly.
Still, he could feel something changing inside him. His thoughts were becoming clearer, sharper. Even if he didn't understand the book's contents, his mind seemed to grow stronger each time he tried.
Then he headed to the stove.
A spark flared to life, and the smell of something burnt immediately followed.
Li Mei's eyes twitched.
Ever since that first day, Lin Huang had insisted on cooking for her. At first, she tried to be polite. But after several near-death experiences involving charred rice, salty soup, and something she swore was once a vegetable, Li Mei's patience—and her stomach—had reached their limit.
When Lin Huang started preparing another meal, she appeared beside him in a blur, her voice trembling between urgency and terror.
"Senior brother, please leave the cooking to junior sister."
By the end, her tone turned almost commanding.
Only she knew the sheer courage it took to swallow his cooking with a straight face—meals crafted with love, care… and absolutely no talent whatsoever.
Over the last few days, Li Mei had come to a conclusion.
Lin Huang's cultivation talent was terrifying. His strength was monstrous. His will was unmatched.
But when it came to cooking—he was a calamity unto himself.