---
Lin Feng had only one goal today: sit beneath the Quiet Plum Tree, meditate in peace, and not become the unwilling symbol of another food-based sect.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
---
The Quiet Plum Tree
The tree was named for its ancient serenity and the gentle plum-scented breeze that calmed even enraged spirit beasts.
Lin Feng sat beneath it, legs crossed, eyes closed.
"Finally," he whispered, "no pancakes, no soups, no angry root vegetables…"
A breeze stirred.
Plum petals swirled.
And then—
SPLOTCH!
Something slapped him in the face.
He opened his eyes. A long, sticky noodle hung from his forehead.
"What the—?"
"INTRUDER!" someone shouted.
---
Enter the Noodle Sects
From behind a nearby hill, two groups charged forward—robes fluttering, noodles flying.
The first wore crimson, their sleeves embroidered with golden ramen spirals. "We are the Sect of the Eternal Pull! Guardians of the One True Noodle!"
The second group, in icy blue, had flat wide robes patterned like fettuccine. "We are the Flat Noodle Purists! Down with hand-pulled propaganda!"
Lin Feng stood up slowly. "Nope. No. I'm not doing this."
Flame Duck waddled up, slurping a stray noodle. "Too late. You sat under the Tree of Starch Unity. That's sacred land."
Bai Xue blinked. "...Did you just start a noodle war?"
"I JUST WANTED TO MEDITATE!"
---
The Scroll of Starch Destiny
An elder from each group stepped forward. One held a scroll made of dough; the other, a pasta blade.
They unrolled an ancient decree.
"Legend says," the crimson elder intoned, "that when the Noodle of Balance returns, it shall descend upon the Quiet Plum Tree and choose the One True Slurp."
Bai Xue muttered, "Is everything prophecy with you people?"
The blue elder pointed dramatically. "The noodle slapped him. He has been chosen!"
The crowd gasped.
Lin Feng blinked. "The noodle… slapped me. I didn't catch it."
"That's how the Prophecy works," they said in unison.
---
The Noodle Duel
To settle the age-old debate, a Grand Slurp-Off was declared.
The arena: a massive bamboo platter.
The weapons: two bowls of spiritually charged noodles.
The stakes: absolute noodle supremacy.
The Eternal Pull disciple twirled his ramen with divine elegance, forming a cyclone of noodle qi.
The Flat Noodle representative whipped out a ribbon of tagliatelle so wide it blotted out the sun.
Lin Feng was once again shoved into a throne made of chopsticks and labeled the "Slurp Sage."
"I don't even know how to use chopsticks properly," he complained.
"Silence, Slurp Sage," the crowd chanted.
Flame Duck tossed him a bib embroidered with "NOODLE JUDGE #1."
---
Tasting Time
The bowls arrived. Both were steaming, glowing with essence.
He tried the first: chewy, springy, rich in umami. He saw visions of noodle artisans battling in the clouds.
The second: flat, broad, silky. It whispered secrets of ancient wheat fields and brought tears to his eyes.
Lin Feng panicked.
"Can't I just declare a draw again?"
Both sects roared, "NO!"
Flame Duck whispered, "Last time you said 'draw,' a soup alliance was born. They fear unity now."
Lin Feng raised his spoon.
Paused.
And declared, "Both noodles… are inferior to—rice vermicelli!"
A collective scream echoed through the mountains.
---
The Holy War Begins
It started with silence.
Then chaos.
"BLASPHEMY!" shouted the red-robed.
"HERESY!" shouted the blue-robed.
"Who even eats rice noodles anymore?!" shouted everyone else.
Qi flared. Noodles lashed out like whips. Chopsticks became flying daggers. Soy sauce exploded in the sky.
Lin Feng was yanked away by Bai Xue as dumplings rained from the heavens.
Flame Duck slapped noodles off its head. "We need to get out of here before someone forms the Gluten Sect."
"Too late," Bai Xue said, pointing.
A group in brown robes was already chanting about the sacred power of whole wheat.
---
Escape… and Destiny (Again)
They fled through the plum forest, noodle blasts shaking the trees.
"Why does this keep happening to me?!" Lin Feng yelled.
"You have the aura of a food-based messiah," Bai Xue said.
"That's not a real thing!"
"Tell that to the Holy Bean Curd Cult," she replied.
They reached a river where a raft awaited, mysteriously labeled For the Noodle Prophet.
Lin Feng refused to get on.
Then a lasagna golem rose from the ground.
He got on.
---
Back at the Mountain…
Safe at last, Lin Feng sat with a cup of tea and swore an oath.
"No more sects. No more food cults. No more accidental messiahhood."
A courier arrived with a scroll.
He read it.
"Dear Chosen of the Celestial Kitchen—
The Fried Rice Monks request your presence at the Holy Wok for the Festival of Fiery Stirring.
Your legendary palate is needed once more."
Lin Feng screamed into his teacup.