At that moment, everyone in the room looked up in unison. An immense pressure swept towards the entrance like a tidal wave, only to dissipate effortlessly before a disdainful gleam in someone's eye.

A figure stood proudly, striding into the lounge and, without hesitation, took the seat of honor, their presence as imposing as if it subdued the heavens themselves.

But immediately thereafter, another force of equal intensity struck from outside the door.

"Master Zhao, representing Xia Xilu Gourmet Street's Zhong Dumplings, has arrived!"

"Ha, Master Liu, we're going to have a competition this year," an aged yet robust laugh sounded from the doorway. "But be careful, old man. I've prepared my secret weapon this year."

"Hmph, just tricks and gimmicks," Master Liu sneered. "No matter how many stunts you have, can they beat our century-old Dark Broth of Century?"

Before the newcomer could settle, one powerful aura after another emerged from outside.

"Master Li of Chang'an Overnight Mutton Soak arrives!"

"Master Chen of Qiong State's Rotten Shrimp Stall..."

"..."

For a moment, the cream of the crop converged in the lounge. Even the air seemed to freeze under the collision of their terrifying auras. The grandmasters sat solemnly on their chairs, eyeing each other, their individual auras descending, heavy enough to crush eons.

By the halfway point, Huai Shi's face had turned ashen, his fighting spirit completely drained.

How can anyone compete!

No matter how hard I try, I can't beat that level of disgustingness!

This gap couldn't be bridged by skill alone; it was a terrifying nightmare forged from the wailing and agony of countless innocent travelers.

Just by looking at them, Huai Shi could see a vast amount of Dark Basicity emanating from the void behind them.

It was the resentful anguish of innumerable people who had suffered as if forced to eat shit, coupled with the sorrow born from the self-deception of "well, we're already here..."

Beside him, someone passed him a tissue, smiling. "Don't be scared, just perform as usual."

The speaker was a kind-eyed older woman with a ponytail, looking competent and approachable with a friendly smile. Taking the tissue, Huai Shi couldn't help but wipe away his cold sweat and shake his head with a bitter smile.

"Perform as usual? I don't even have a usual to go by. I can only boil some noodles."

"Hmph, just another one who doesn't know his limits."

Beside him, a man exuding a sinister aura snorted coldly, "They always think they can make it taste awful by just tossing things together, without realizing how much painstaking effort and devotion it takes to make something truly disgusting!"

What the fuck, who the hell spends their time figuring out how to make food more revolting!

Huai Shi had no desire to engage anymore.

He just hoped the contest would end quickly so he could get up there, do whatever, and be swiftly eliminated to go home.

Just then, the entire contestants' lounge shook abruptly. All competitors fell silent, looking up.

The ceiling was being lifted.

As if opening a box.

A massive shadow crouched outside the box, looking down at them. Soon, it nodded slightly. "The honored judges have arrived; be ready. You'll soon have your chance to go on stage."

"Those who are just making up numbers had best leave quickly." The giant shadow opened its blood-red, solitary eye and declared coldly, "We have a distinguished guest this time. If someone should provoke ire through their poor skill, the consequence won't just be enduring a lifetime of shit!"

BOOM!

The box was closed.

In the silence, everyone in the lounge looked at each other.

Their expressions had become solemn, no longer casual.

Huai Shi swallowed nervously, glanced at the increasingly empty exit, hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head decisively.

Rather than live a lifetime eating curry that tastes like dog shit, better to just die.

I have no choice but to bring out my real skills!

Huai Shi's fighting spirit flared up, then immediately died out—real skills my ass, I really don't know what to do.

The door burst open.

A brawny man in leather trousers glanced around, lifting his number plate. "Contestant No. 109, No. 89, No. 44, No. 88, get ready to enter."

After the first group of contestants left, the second group was quickly called away, followed by the third, then the fourth...

The room grew more and more spacious.

And Huai Shi became increasingly uneasy.

Until at last, even the kind young lady beside him who had been comforting him fell silent, closing her eyes to meditate, waiting for the competition to begin.

Unaware of the results, not knowing if they had made it through the selection.

The only certainty was that those who were called away never returned.

Huai Shi's nerves grew tauter.

Finally, someone walked in, surveying the few people left in the room, and nodded. "Alright, all of you come along. The judges can hardly wait any longer."

All participants quickly picked up their tools and followed.

"The judges are extremely picky this time. If you're just here to make up the numbers, it's best to admit defeat and withdraw early. Believe me, it's for your own good."

The honest-looking, green-skinned orc-like man was holding a list and leading the way. A tentacle monster covered in eyes wriggled towards them, dragging a screaming person.

"Give me one more chance! Give me one more chance!" the person was crying out. "My stinky tofu can be even stinkier! Believe me, give me one more chance, don't throw me in there..."

"Another clever fool," the orc shook his head and scoffed. "When he was caught, he really wanted to add shit to the stinky tofu... Ha, people who defile culinary arts like this do not deserve to be chefs. Watch closely. If there's anyone else here to cause trouble, they won't meet a good end."

As he said this, they saw the tentacle monster pull open a door and casually throw the man in.

Amidst an overwhelming stench, Huai Shi glimpsed a cesspool that surely should have been mosaic-blurred.

From afar, they heard a thud, and the screaming stopped.

Huai Shi shivered, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The pressure was immense.

At the end of the corridor was the massive competition arena, the No.09 Preliminary Selection Zone.

Thousands of contestants had already been distributed into dozens of different zones, put to the test.

All the stoves were lined up in the middle of an amphitheater-shaped plaza reminiscent of the Colosseum in Rome. The spectator seats were already bustling with noise, not a single empty seat in sight.

A thin layer of gray haze shrouded the faces of these visitors from Hell and the Border, hiding their ghastly features and identities. At that moment, they were simply spectators.

Admiring the birth of Hell's wonders.

Opposite them, on the judges' bench, stood several imposing figures, their faces hidden in the dark. Only the stern and demanding gleam in their eyes was fixed on the trembling competitors.

Soon, one of the judges turned his head to glance at an attendant beside him. The attendant nodded, stepped forward, stood tall and proud, and announced, "The competition theme—Dessert."

"No restrictions on type and style."

The eight-eyed attendant spoke coldly, "Within fifteen minutes, present your creations to the judges. Otherwise, be prepared to face the consequences of failure!"

Huai Shi swallowed hard, looking around at the other contestants. Some were already trembling, their legs shaking, while others, full of fighting spirit, charged towards the cooking stations. They pulled out their tools and the ingredients provided by the competition and began their fervent preparations.

Only Huai Shi stood clueless in front of his own station, looking around, at a loss for what to do.

The judges, noticing his attempt to slack off, frowned disapprovingly, casting a chilling pressure. The audience began to jeer, "Get lost! Get lost! Get lost!"

Huai Shi even saw that the most enthusiastic heckler among them was a Raven.

Damn it, you just want to see me fail, don't you?

Huai Shi wordlessly withdrew his gaze, forcing his mind to calm. No matter what, he had seen much of the world and couldn't be frightened by a situation like this.

But what kind of dessert should I make?

He rummaged through the competition-provided ingredients. It seemed they had everything one could wish for: various fruits, milk, chocolate... Only, each radiated a weird color and smell and did not look at all edible. But this was expected; after all, it was the Chef Demon competition. They weren't likely to have contestants cook something as bizarre as the Soul-Sealing Noodle of the North Star.

He randomly grabbed a bunch of things and threw them onto the cutting board.

Then, Huai Shi was stumped, not knowing what to do.

Luckily, there was still a mobile phone signal. Huai Shi, as if granted a reprieve, hastily searched for recipes on the spot. Some sharp-eyed spectators noticed his screen, and the jeering became even louder.

And while Huai Shi was scrambling, someone had already submitted their entry!

Just three minutes had passed!

The proud Goblin burst into laughter, holding up his plate and looking smugly at the other dumbfounded contestants. "In-inheritance, do you understand? Th-this competition, we of the Green Hair Poison Wine have won it for sure!"

With that, he lifted the lid and introduced to the judges,

"—Please taste, f-fermented glutinous rice with tremella!"

On the plate, four small bowls contained crystal-clear tremella floating among enticingly colored fruit. There were no signs of spoilage, and it emitted a faint, truly tantalizing fragrance.

Some spectators who had purchased the deluxe package could even sync their senses of smell and taste with the judges, experiencing the sweet aroma even more alluringly.

As the spoon entered the mouth, a hint of sweetness burst forth, immediately dominating the taste buds. Before this tempting sweetness could fade, the Demon hidden behind the sugar coating revealed its sinister grin.

Soon after, a terrifying spiciness, bitterness, and indescribable foul odor exploded from every corner of the mouth like a bomb.

The judges paused. All of them tilted their heads back, spewing out a toxic stench, but their expressions showed not the slightest displeasure. On the contrary, they looked surprised and delighted.

"Marvelous!"

In front, a Hippo judge who looked like he was dressed in a suit picked up a spoon, sampled the dessert, and marveled, "This is truly rare. Are all the ingredients your own? The texture of this sulfur-smoked tremella is simply wonderful, paired with these hormone-ripened strawberries, and the grass stalks dyed with pigment to look like green tea... And dominating it all is the brilliantly brewed Hell's Inheritance, Green Hair Poison Wine. Its sour and bitter taste, like licking a metal railing in the depths of winter, is unforgettable on the palate!"

"No, there's another flavor."

Beside the Hippo, a gaunt man raised his head. His eye sockets were as hollow as a Skeleton's, his voice hoarse. "You've used another ingredient. It's hidden, but in fact, it's the most important base of this dessert..."

The judges pondered, their brows furrowing.

"It's oil."

The Goblin smiled and stammered, "I've used... I've used Waste Oil, Waste Oil b-blended with Green Hair Poison Wine!"

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