The Chef's Trial

The audience seats stretched upward like a colosseum, packed with spectators who murmured in anticipation. Their voices reverberated through the space, creating an electric buzz that made the very air hum with tension. Above the arena, a massive crystalline scoreboard floated, displaying a countdown to the start of the trial and the names of the contestants flashing in sharp, vivid script.

"This is insane," Jiawei muttered, his eyes scanning the elaborate death trap disguised as a kitchen. "Who came up with this idea?"

Tian Qi leaned back in his plush seat, arms crossed. "Someone who clearly wanted entertainment and carnage in equal measure," he replied dryly. "This isn't just cooking—it's a gladiator's stage. With knives."

Jiawei said nothing, his attention locked on the platform. This is no place for mistakes—or hesitation.

Jiawei and Tian Qi settled into their seats. Around them, a few other realm-scouting contestants were scattered about, many having already found their allies. Some sat alone, their expressions tense and withdrawn. Despite the atmosphere of camaraderie among a few, neither Jiawei nor Tian Qi had any intention of approaching anyone else now. At this stage, it is far too late to be forming alliances. That's why Jiawei had secured his partnership yesterday—when time was still on his side.

The deep resonance of a gong rang through the arena, its sound echoed three times before fading into a soft, melodic tune. Moments later, the voice of this round's host followed, smooth and welcoming yet laced with a faint undercurrent of menace.

"Welcome to the second elimination round of The Chef's Trial, everyone. We hope you are well and ready to witness today's spectacle in all its glory."

The voice paused, allowing the tension in the arena to thicken. Then they continued:

"Now, let us welcome the contestants."

A wave of anticipation rippled through the audience as the doors opened, and hundreds of participants began streaming into the arena. 

This time, they were an impressive sight. Gone were the ragged, bedraggled figures from yesterday. These contestants stood tall, their uniforms pristine and their expressions sharp with determination. Each one looked ready to claim victory—or die trying.

Jiawei's eyes scanned the sea of entrants, searching for a familiar face.

"There," Tian Qi said, nudging him with an elbow. "Station 32. Xiao Jiang."

Jiawei's gaze shifted to the marked station and landed on the small figure of a young girl. She looked bright and eager, her sweet face alight with excitement. As soon as she spotted Jiawei, her grin stretched wide, baring all her teeth, and she shot him a double thumbs-up.

A quiet laugh escaped Jiawei as he watched her, his protective instincts kicking in. Smiling warmly, he raised a hand and waved back at her.

"That kid is ridiculously adorable," Tian Qi said, chuckling as he also waved at her.

Xiao Jiang looked like she was having the time of her life. And for a brief moment, the weight of the competition seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter, warmer. But Jiawei knew better than to let his guard down. The real battle is about to begin.

Names began to appear on the personal viewing screens in front of each spectators, accompanied by their station numbers.

[Jiang Xiaoting [32]]

Jiawei tapped on Xiaoting's name, and her station's setup, along with her calm face, appeared on his screen.

Suddenly, a beautiful notification pop-up emerged on the screen, its delicate edges shimmering faintly, adorned with ornate golden flourishes. The message read: "Theme Announcement."

At the same time, the host's voice echoed through the arena, cutting through the rising anticipation.

"Contestants, prepare yourselves. Remember, you must cook to the best of your ability, because if your dish is ordinary, you will become food for The Sharpener. Cook as if your life depends on it—because it does. And cook to match the theme perfectly!"

Jiawei and Tian Qi turned their attention to their respective screens, closely observing Xiao Jiang's reaction. To Jiawei's surprise, she still appeared calm, her expression unshaken. Curious, Jiawei idly switched to view a random station. His screen landed on the face of a woman he had noticed yesterday—the one who stared at him in the lobby.

"Oh, her name is Li Qi," Jiawei muttered, his gaze lingering.

The woman exuded an air of confidence. Clean and composed, she looked even more radiant than she had the day before. Yesterday, she had already been beautiful, but now her brilliance was undeniable. Her eyes gleamed with both boldness and a subtle innocence.

His curiosity grew. What kind of culinary skills does Li Qi possess?

Before he could dwell further, the host's voice boomed again, grabbing everyone's attention.

"This round's theme is…" The announcement paused dramatically, followed by the rhythmic pounding of drums, each beat heightening the tension in the arena.

Suddenly, from every cooking station, a portion of the counter slid open, and a box slowly rose from the hidden compartment. The boxes were transparent, but thick, swirling mist obscured their contents, teasing the audience and contestants.

"Do not open the boxes yet," the host instructed, their tone sharp but controlled. "Place your hands on the handles and wait."

The tension was palpable. Nervous energy swept through the arena, infecting everyone, Jiawei included. A gnawing wonder crept into his thoughts. 

What could be inside? A rare fruit from the Realm of Hatred? Or perhaps a deadly, ancient, venomous creature? No one knew—but everyone wanted to know.

"On the count of three, you may lift the lids," the host continued.

"One… two… THREE!"

In unison, the contestants lifted the lids of their boxes. The audience collectively gasped, their excitement quickly replaced by confusion and disbelief.

"Yes, that's correct!" the host announced, their voice brimming with unsettling glee. "This round's theme is Cuisine from Waste Ingredients. You are tasked with crafting a delectable dish using materials typically considered trash—fruit peels, vegetable stems, bones, and more."

As the mist cleared, the true contents of the boxes were revealed. Inside lay heaps of what could only be described as garbage: fruit rinds, vegetable scraps, eggshells, and a chaotic mix of other unappealing refuse. The spectators tilted their heads, visibly bewildered.

Is the committee insane? How could such scraps be the cornerstone of a prestigious cooking competition—one where lives were on the line?

But Jiawei knew better. This wasn't just an ordinary cooking contest. The Chef's Trial was designed to push contestants beyond their limits. Creating a dish that was merely edible from such materials would already be remarkable. But crafting something delicious? Only a true genius could pull it off.

A pang of dread seized Jiawei's chest as the thought settled in his mind: he is far from a genius.

Panic began to creep over him, cold and suffocating. He isn't even in the arena yet, but the thought of facing a challenge like this sent his mind spiraling. If he were out there now, he'd surely meet a gruesome end at the hands of The Sharpener.

And when his time finally came? The challenges would only grow more brutal. If he struggled to even fathom a solution for this task, how could he possibly survive later rounds?

The realization hit him like a blow to the gut. For the first time, Jiawei wondered if he was already doomed—destined to meet his end in his first round, swallowed whole by the merciless trials ahead.