Omelette Duel of Destiny—Eggs Over My Dead Body.
The crowd was tense. Demonic cultivators lined the arena, spiritual chickens perched dramatically on banners. Somewhere, a mystical flute played an intense breakfast battle anthem.
Yue handed me a spatula. "Use it only when necessary. Or when she goes full cluck berserk."
I blinked. "That's… specific."
Yue nodded. "Hen Shui has beak-blade techniques older than your entire bloodline. Good luck."
Across from me, Hen Shui was meditating over her egg. The yolk pulsed with forbidden energy. She levitated... I barely held back a scream.
A rooster in ceremonial robes flapped forward. "BEGIN!" The Duel Commenced.
I channeled my qi into the pan. Fire blazed... Butter hissed... I cracked the egg with a level of reverence typically reserved for ancient scriptures.
Hen Shui struck first... Her egg exploded into six perfect mini-omelettes, orbiting her like battle satellites. Each one radiated cosmic heat, and faint smugness.
I flipped mine with flair, adding demon truffle shavings... The crowd gasped.
Hen Shui clucked ominously...She unleashed Feathered Scramble Storm Style—a blizzard of diced onions and deadly gusts of pepper. My apron caught fire. My eyebrows resigned....to fate..
I retaliated with One-Yolk True Strike, channeling my inner hunger and trauma.
Time slowed.... The flip was perfect...Golden. Crispy. A swirl of hope and vengeance.
Yue screamed from the sidelines, "He's done it! He's unlocked Egglightenment!"
Hen Shui flapped in disbelief... Her omelettes collapsed into soggy mediocrity.
I placed my dish before the judges. My omelette steamed gently, like a whisper from the heavens.
Hen Shui stared at hers...Then bowed.
With one final cluck, she handed me the Golden Spatula of Honor...
---
Aftermath: Omelette Afterparty
The Nightshade Demon Sect erupted into cheers.
Yue slapped me on the back. "You just beat the grandmaster of chicken kung-fu with breakfast. You're a legend."
The Demon King showed up wearing an "I HEART OMELETTES" headband.
The Demon god personally knighted me with a bamboo skewer...
From that day forward, they called me.... Eggxalted Lord Fei Jian... I didn't ask for the title, but hey—it came with a custom apron.
But just when I think things can't get weirder, I get summoned to the Underworld... for a cooking competition..!
---
Underworld Iron Chef—Welcome to HELL'S KITCHEN
I was mid-nap in my dumpling throne (yes, that's still a thing) when a rift in the air tore open above me.
"Long Fei Jian," boomed a voice that sounded like someone gargling lava.
A skeletal hand reached through the rift and grabbed my ankle.
"Hey—HEY! I'm off-duty! I haven't even digested my breakfast victory!" Yue ran into the room just in time to see me get yoinked into a flaming vortex.
She waved lazily. "Bring me back ghost snacks!" Welcome to Hell's Kitchen. Literally...
I landed on a floating skull-shaped island surrounded by rivers of molten stew. Giant demonic chefs stood at massive cauldrons, slicing soul carrots and skinless spirit pigs.
A flaming demon with a chef hat twice the size of his head growled, "You have been summoned to the Underworld Culinary Trials. Defeat the reigning champion, or be fed to the Soup of Eternal Regret."
"…Is it low sodium?" I asked.
He blinked. "What?"
"Never mind." The Champion Emerges
Out walked the most terrifying figure I'd ever seen.
Dark aura. Jet-black spatula. Apron that said "#1 Soul Chef." It was… My Grandma.
"Ah, Jian'er," she croaked. "Still too thin. I told you demon boys never eat enough!"
I screamed. "YOU DIED FORTY THOUSAND YEARS AGO!"
She threw a cleaver at me. "And you STILL never wrote!" The crowd of demon judges cheered. One held up a sign that said "GRANDMA SWEEP".
---
The Challenge: Soul Noodles
We had thirty minutes to prepare a dish that could "move the soul." If you failed, your own soul got added to the stew.
I stared down my ghost grandma as we each summoned ingredients. She conjured ancient demon garlic. I summoned leftover dumplings and a healthy dose of trauma.
The duel began... Flames roared.... Knives danced... I chopped with desperation.
She cooked with unconditional disappointment...The Twist?
The judges were crying... Actual tears.
They tasted both our dishes, and sobbed for twenty minutes straight.
One of them wailed, "I haven't felt love since the great tofu massacre!" In the end… it was a draw.
My soul was spared. Grandma patted my head and said, "Not bad. But your seasoning is still weak. Come visit more, or I'll haunt your next bowel movement."
She vanished in a cloud of spiritual MSG.
Back at the Demon Sect.. I landed face-first in the training yard, still smelling like ghost pepper oil.
Yue raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Cooking duel with your undead grandmother?"
I gave a thousand-yard stare. "She made me cry with noodles."
The Demon King appeared behind me holding a bib. "SO… what's for dinner?"
"Well, the Sect is being audited by the Demonic IRS… and apparently, you are the treasurer now!" Yue replied.
"What do you mean, I Accidentally Committed Tax Fraud (Probably)?" The scroll hit me in the face.
Thwap!.. I peeled it off, squinting at the ornate, glowing letters.
"Notice of Internal Revenue Summons—Demonic IRS Division." Yue read over my shoulder.
"…Did you file our hell taxes?"
I looked up from the scroll, deadpan. "We have taxes?"
The Demon King appeared behind me, sweating bullets. "Not we, you. You're the Vice-Demon Head of the Inner Disciplinary Snack Squad. That includes budget oversight."
"…WHAT?!" I only joined the demon sect to survive, cultivate, and eat dumplings. Nobody said anything about bookkeeping! I barely know how to count spiritual stones, let alone itemize receipts!
Yue patted my shoulder. "Well, good luck. The auditor will be here in—" A shadow loomed over us.
A massive, demonic figure descended from the sky, riding a flying abacus.
He wore a black suit, horn-rimmed glasses, and carried a quill that bled ink made of regret.
"I am Auditor Xiang," he intoned, adjusting his glasses ominously. "Let's discuss your expenses...."