Bai Xiaochun poked his head out, and the gaunt youth immediately glared at him, voice full of rage:
"You're the one who took my spot!"
"That's not me!" Bai Xiaochun retreated in shock, feigning innocence.
"Don't lie—I know you're the newbie!" Xu Baocai clenched his fist, enraged.
"It really wasn't me." Bai Xiaochun murmured, clearly feeling wronged as Xu's fury intensified.
"I don't care. In three days, on the south slope of the sect, we duel to the death. If you win, fine—if you lose, that spot's mine." Xu threw a blood letter at Bai Xiaochun, the page covered with the red character "Kill."
Bai froze, repelled by the threatening aura, especially when Xu mentioned a death match.
"Senior brother, you went to the trouble of writing so many blood-Kills… it must've hurt!" Bai trembled.
"Big deal? I've scrimped and saved spirit stones for seven years just to get a spot in the Fire Kitchen—then you swoop in? We're enemies. In three days, it's life or death!" Xu snarled.
"I'm not doing it," Bai Xiaochun quickly tossed the blood letter back.
Before Xu could react, the ground trembled—Zhang Dabang appeared, blocking him.
"Junior Nine, go do dishes with Second Brother. And you? Quiet down and go play." Zhang's voice boomed.
Xu paled and backed off, scowling at Bai before storming off.
Bai, unsettled by the intense hostility, decided to stay put and avoid the south slope.
Several days later…
Bai adjusted to the Fire Kitchen routine and tried practicing Purple Energy Cauldron Technique at night, though he struggled to manage more than four breaths—still making slow progress.
One evening, as he practiced, he heard whispers:
"Close the doors—quick!"
"Black Third Brother, check for watchers!"
Bai peeked through the door crack. The kitchen was locked down and enveloped in mist, while the cooks stood alert.
Zhang summoned him softly: "Nine, come over here."
Bai, putting on an innocent smile, joined them. A warm, fragrant aura enveloped him—Zhang held a translucent spirit mushroom about the size of a baby's head.
"Eat a bite," Zhang urged.
Bai hesitated, but under pressure from Zhang and the others, he bit in. Instantly, warmth and soothing energy flooded his body. They passed the mushroom around, forming a bond; Bai realized this was a ritual of loyalty.
"Senior Brother, this mushroom is amazing—I feel so warm!" Bai praised. Zhang cheered and offered more delicacies—jing herbs, golden earth-treasure, and red spirit fruits—all of which Bai devoured.
Soon everyone was bloated and laughing, united in camaraderie.
Zhang then introduced the Six Mantras—a set of eating rules:
Eat spirit herbs around the edges, but not the main stem.
Slice meat with precision, leaving three parts of the bone.
Spirit porridge should be diluted.
Drink only half a cup of heavenly elixir.
"These six mantras," Zhang explained, "keep us safe. Alright, go on, night snack's over. The outer disciples are waiting for soup."
Bai, still giggly, played along—studying a bowl and offering comical advice about hiding its capacity with a thick bottom. Zhang and the others laughed hysterically.
"Good idea! That'll be famous! You're born for the Fire Kitchen," Zhang declared.