Chapter 1: The World of Food Spirits

Early morning, before dawn.

This is the busiest time at the vegetable market, for seasoned shoppers know that the produce is freshest at this hour.

Arrive too late, and all that remains are the leftovers picked over by others.

Inside the market, vendors stand before their stalls, energetically waving their arms toward passing customers, their varied cries of sales rising and falling in a lively chorus.

“Fresh spinach! Homegrown, fresh spinach!”

“Authentic Wuhua chicken! Only twenty-one per jin!”

“Hey, handsome young man, want some pork?”

At this last call, a somewhat slender youth in the crowd paused, turning toward the voice.

His hair was a bit tousled over his forehead, yet it could not conceal his striking face and bright, spirited eyes.

Seeing the youth stop, the pork vendor’s smile grew even more eager. “Fresh mountain-raised pork, fifteen per jin!”

“Buy some and try it, I guarantee you won’t say a word after one bite!”

The youth said nothing, silently stepping forward and casually pressing a piece of pork.

“This meat... is from yesterday, isn’t it?”

The vendor’s expression stiffened abruptly, his smile turning a little forced. “Haha, young brother, you sure love to joke. Who in the market doesn’t know our—”

“Besides, it’s either mountain-raised pork or regular feed pigs,” the youth interrupted confidently. “Mountain-raised pork is firmer and more elastic; this one...”

He withdrew his hand with a hint of disdain, staring at the dent left on the meat that hadn’t bounced back for quite a while. “Clearly not.”

“Fine, fine, don’t want it then. Why say so much?” The vendor’s smile faltered, and with a grudging tone, he turned his gaze away from the youth to attract other customers.

But the youth suddenly spoke again.

“How much for this?”

Huh?

The vendor looked toward where the youth was pointing.

It was a whole slab of bright red beef, its cut surface faintly streaked with white fat.

“Beef, thirty-one per jin,” the vendor replied casually.

This piece was entrusted to him by a neighboring stall owner who was absent today, so it wasn’t his own merchandise; naturally, his attitude was different.

Thirty-one per jin...

The youth pressed lightly on the beef, then sniffed his hand that had touched it, his eyes flashing with surprise.

“I’ll take all of it.”

Weighing, payment made.

Carrying the heavy block of beef, the youth blended into the crowd.

The vendor watched until the youth disappeared from sight, then snorted discontentedly, “So young, yet such an expert.”

Clearly, he was still annoyed at having his trick seen through.

“Ding-ling-ling—”

A sharp ringtone sounded. The vendor answered his phone. “Hey, Old Li, what’s up?”

“Did you manage to sell that beef I asked you to help with?” Old Li’s voice was somewhat urgent on the other end.

“Hey, I was just about to tell you — some young guy bought it all. My own stall hasn’t even opened, but yours is sold out,” the vendor shrugged, a trace of sourness in his tone.

Silence fell on the other end.

“Damn!”

“I was in such a rush this morning, took the wrong meat.”

“That tenderloin costs a hundred per jin at cost!”

Vendor: “...”

Oh no?

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so envious.

Unaware that he had stumbled upon a bargain, the youth continued browsing various stalls, soon leaving the market with a full bag of vegetables.

Not far from the market, his phone rang urgently.

Finding a cleaner spot, he carefully set down his groceries before leisurely pulling out his phone to answer.

“Hello, this is Qin Lang.”

An anxious voice came from the other end. “Qin Lang, you reported Pang Long and got kicked out of the training class?”

“Something like that,” Qin Lang replied ambiguously.

“That’s bad. You offended Pang Long, the Spirit Chef Association will never recognize you now!” The voice was filled with helplessness.

“Not that serious,” Qin Lang said noncommittally. “The Spirit Chef Association isn’t his personal domain.”

Spotting a vehicle approaching nearby, Qin Lang quickened his speech, “Alright, I have to go. I’m busy shopping.”

“Huh? Isn’t it you—”

“Beep—”

He hung up. Qin Lang picked up his groceries again and moved aside to let the vehicle pass. As the car drove by, he suddenly froze.

Through the open window, he saw a man in his early thirties behind the wheel, and beside him in the passenger seat, a small creature about the size of a basketball, resembling a translucent rabbit.

The creature seemed to sense Qin Lang’s gaze and glanced at him.

Only after the car passed did Qin Lang come back to himself, his eyes filled with admiration and longing.

“A food spirit…”

Even after two days in this new world, he hadn’t fully adapted to this place so different from his former life.

This was a world called the Food Spirit World.

It shared many similarities with Earth but was vastly different in terms of cuisine.

No familiar dishes from his previous life could be found here.

At the same time, this world possessed extraordinary powers.

These were the beings known as food spirits, or simply “spirits.”

It was said only chefs with exceptional skills, pouring their utmost effort into cooking, could summon these spirits from their dishes.

Once born, a food spirit would never dissipate. It would automatically form a contract with its creator chef, never to part thereafter.

Not only could it aid the chef in crafting more delicious food, but it could also wield supernatural powers like wind, fire, thunder, and lightning.

Having a food spirit elevated a chef beyond ordinary status.

They would earn the title of Spirit Chef and gain higher social standing.

A strange world indeed, but for Qin Lang, a transmigrant, it was the best world.

In his past life, he was China’s youngest top-tier chef, yet after passing the highest-level exam, he was betrayed due to vested interests.

Now, in this world, his top-tier culinary skills and five-thousand years of Chinese food culture were his strongest trump cards.

Lost in thought, Qin Lang had already returned to the door of his rented room.

Fumbling for his keys and about to unlock the door, the door next to him, number 502, creaked open slightly.

An elderly man with a face full of wrinkles and gray-white hair peeked out and looked at Qin Lang.

“Little Qin, you’re back?”

“Hello, Grandpa Zhao.”

Qin Lang paused and nodded politely.

This man, Zhao Chuan, was not only his neighbor but also his landlord. By now, rent was probably due.

Thinking of this, Qin Lang guessed his visitor’s intention and smiled sheepishly.

“Grandpa Zhao, I’m a bit tight on money lately. Could you possibly give me a month’s grace on the rent?”