Dao Of The Salted Fish (Salted Fish Cultivator)

Many cultivators were diligently practising in the morning, so Wen Zhihao’s path to the kitchens was unimpeded. He hopped over the wall and knocked on the kitchen door to alert the workers.

“Ah! You’re back,” Aunty Chef Liu Jing appeared behind him.

“Greetings, Aunty Liu,” Wen Zhihao said, bowing politely. He took out the empty food box from his storage space and returned it to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Liu Jing shook her head. “Young Master Cultivator, you should return to your training.”

“I've already finished. Don’t be polite, I can do a lot of things,” Wen Zhihao said.

“Hey, a strong boy can help me,” one of the older male workers called out.

Liu Jing made a face. “Old Tang, you really shouldn’t—”

“Okay, okay, don’t be polite,” Wen Zhihao greeted Mr Tang. “What can I help you with?”

“We need to transport the ingredients for the day from the sect’s fields,” Old Tang said.

“I can definitely do that.”

Manual labour was really straightforward. Wen Zhihao followed a group of men and women to the vegetable fields of the Golden Sun Sect. These vegetables were grown on spiritual water and thus were free of impurities and suitable for cultivators.

The farmers had prepared baskets of harvested vegetables. All they needed to do was carry them back to the kitchens. However, there was a lot, and there was a section they needed to walk before they could reach the cart to load it.

Thinking a moment, Wen Zhihao looked at his sword.

Swords...that can fly.

He thought carefully, going through the original owner’s memories. He gingerly injected just enough qi into the sword to make it float. Hah, success! Like that, Wen Zhihao hung the baskets of vegetables on the sword, such that they were held up by their handles.

The other workers were speechless. This...this cultivator used his sword like a mere pole!

Wen Zhihao easily transported the sword and hanging baskets to the cart, and then went back again to continue.

With his help, it went quickly and easily, and then the cart was pulled by a horse to the kitchens.

Liu Jing oversaw the arrangement of vegetables into the kitchen. Her expression was a little exasperated when she looked at Wen Zhihao.

“Young Master Cultivator, is there something you want?” she finally asked.

Wen Zhihao decided to be thick-skinned and nodded. “Do you happen to have spicy noodles?”

“I can make them quickly,” Liu Jing said. "Sit, sit."

Someone pulled up a seat for Wen Zhihao for him to sit down. He watched Aunty Liu Jing cook with interest: it was a live cooking video, after all. In this ancient setting, they didn’t have convenient gas or electric stoves. Wen Zhihao briefly took over the task of feeding the under-stove flames with wood.

The noodles were made fresh and cooked quickly in boiling water. Liu Jing quickly stir-fried some vegetables and meat and mixed in various spices. She finally presented him with a bowl of spicy noodles.

Wen Zhihao’s eyes brightened as he smelled the rich, spicy scent. “Thank you, Aunty Liu.”

“Eat, eat, no thanks needed,” Liu Jing said.

Wen Zhihao slurped up some noodles. The flavours were just as good as his favourite instant noodles, but the noodles themselves were even better.

“Ah, such a healthy appetite,” Old Tang said. “You are a curious cultivator, young master.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit with the other cultivators in the banquet hall?” another food worker asked, frowning.

Wen Zhihao shook his head. “Your atmosphere is much preferable. Aunty, do you have more chilli?”

Liu Jing’s lips twitched. She already made the noodles quite spicy. “Fine, fine, here.”

Wen Zhihao happily spooned more chilli oil over his noodles and tucked in. His happily-enjoying-food expression also whetted the appetite of those around him, and so they all had noodles (with varying levels of spiciness) that morning.