"The shokugeki will last for three hours. If contestant Mo Bai wins, contestant Yoshino will offer a formal apology and provide compensation. If contestant Yoshino wins, contestant Mo Bai will no longer pursue this matter."
"Do both parties agree to the terms of this shokugeki?" Wang Yao sat in the center of the judges' panel, flanked by Colson and Chiba Eda, who were seated with prim formality.
"No objections."
"Agreed."
"Then, I hereby declare—let the shokugeki begin!"
Both contestants submitted their ingredient lists to the staff, who quickly transported the materials to their cooking stations.
"How did things turn out like this?" At his station, Yoshino Takashi hung his head, feeling the powerlessness of someone caught in a web of their own making.
From his bodyguards' failure and capture, to the death of the Onmyoji after he had cut the power cables, to his old rival Harano Katsuya still managing to cook a high-scoring dish while he himself received zero points. And finally, being blindsided and trapped into a shokugeki by Mo Bai…
"None of these steps should have failed," Yoshino Takashi muttered, slamming his fist on the counter.
"Contestant Yoshino, all the ingredients you requested have arrived." A staff member interrupted Yoshino Takashi's recollections.
Yoshino Takashi nodded grimly at the staffer. It had come to this. The only way out was to defeat Mo Bai in the shokugeki, forcing the latter to drop the matter as per the agreement.
To that end, he had prepared a secret recipe passed down through the Yoshinoya family: Fragrant Roasted Salmon.
"Shiso, bay leaf, dill, mint, dried tangerine peel, cinnamon bark, cloves, parsley, thyme…"
"Judging by the ingredients, the dish Yoshino Takashi plans to make is likely a roasted fish that emphasizes spices."
"Although I find contestant Yoshino's attitude towards cooking contemptible, the complex spice blend shows that the old family restaurant behind him, Yoshinoya, still has a few tricks up its sleeve."
Colson had usurped the role of the host, Kasuga Yanagi.
"In contrast to contestant Yoshino's complex spices, contestant Mo Bai, who previously produced the intricate dish 'Shattered Mountains and Rivers! Raging Tempest,' has chosen ingredients that seem somewhat simple."
"On contestant Mo Bai's station, there is only a single Red sea bream and some decorative items for plating, like cucumber, lemon, and shiso leaves."
"Does contestant Mo Bai intend to counter a richly flavored, spice-roasted fish with a light-tasting sashimi? Isn't that a bit too risky?"
Colson truly lived up to his title as a chief food critic, analyzing with perfect clarity the final dishes both contestants would present just by looking at their ingredients.
"Heh," Wang Yao chuckled softly at Colson's assessment, but said nothing. "You newbies in the starter zone are still too naive."
"From the moment they drank that bowl of seafood soup, the outcome was already sealed." Wang Yao looked at the ecstatic Yoshino Takashi with pity.
"Using sashimi against spice-roasted fish? The heavens are truly on my side!" The gloom on Yoshino Takashi's face vanished, replaced by uncontrollable ecstasy. "Your arrogance will be your tomb!"
"Let me show you the recipe that has been passed down in my Yoshinoya for generations!"
"First, the marinade…" His voice stopped abruptly as the small yuzu in his hand fell to the floor.
"Damn it! What's happening?" Yoshino Takashi clutched his right hand, which was trembling so violently he could barely control it. Panic was written all over his face.
"Tell me, who is the arrogant one?"
Yoshino Takashi's pupils constricted. He turned his head and saw the figure of Mo Bai overlapping with that of Poseidon from the foodgasm illusion.
That condescending, icy gaze, as if looking at something already dead, nearly made Yoshino Takashi collapse. He looked around his station again—where were the grand stage and the judges? There was only a dead, silent black sea.
"No, no, no! This must be fake!" He blinked again, and the illusion vanished. Yoshino Takashi was back at the bustling cooking station.
"Just finish the dish." With his back drenched in a cold sweat, he no longer dared to look at Mo Bai. He quickly picked up the small yuzu from the counter and placed it on the cutting board.
But the moment he picked up the kitchen knife, a scene that almost made him break down occurred—his knife-wielding right hand began to shake again. It was the simplest downward cutting motion, something a two or three-year-old could do, yet he, a chef who had repeated it countless times, couldn't complete it!?
"Damn it! Move! Move for me!" The stubborn Yoshino Takashi brought the knife down with all his might— "Ahhhhh!!!"
A scream like a stuck pig echoed across the stage.
Fortunately, the wound wasn't deep, just a break in the skin. Even so, a staff member kindly came over to put a bandage on it.
"Hey, hey, that zero-point chef cut his hand."
"No way! He's a chef and he cut his own hand while chopping vegetables?"
"So pathetic."
"Am I the only one who thinks I could go up there and do a better job?"
"Well, he got three zeros. Anyone could do it."
…
Amidst the noisy chatter of the crowd, Yoshino Takashi, having had his wound treated, returned to the stage. His state of mind had been unavoidably affected.
"Stop! Stop!" Yoshino Takashi slapped his incessantly trembling right hand like a madman. After continuous slapping, his hand finally stopped shaking.
"It worked! It worked! I just have to cut…"
Perhaps he was too excited, because this time, the knife…
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The staff member who had just packed up the first-aid kit and was about to leave the stage was completely dumbfounded.
What the hell!? He cut his hand again? Does he get a thrill from self-harm? You've got to be kidding me! Are you trying to make my life difficult?
Seeing the fresh blood seeping through the fingers clutching his hand, Yoshino Takashi's legs gave out, and he slumped to the floor, the light gone from his eyes. He couldn't even control a knife, how could he possibly cook?
Yoshino Takashi broke down.
"Hey, contestant Yoshino, hurry up and cook. I'm only planning to make sashimi. It shouldn't be too hard for you to serve up a roasted fish and beat my sashimi, right?"
Hearing Mo Bai's voice, Yoshino Takashi shuddered. The staff member who was cutting medical tape fumbled…
"Ahhhhh!!!" Another gash appeared on Yoshino Takashi's left hand.
Even the cameraman couldn't bear to watch any longer, turning the lens towards the guaranteed ratings-booster on the judges' panel, Wang Yao.
In Yoshino Takashi's eyes, the image of Mo Bai completely merged with the golden-armored figure from the foodgasm illusion. He was like an animal that had just seen its natural predator; from his expression down to every cell in his body, sheer terror was written everywhere.
"I surrender! I surrender!"
"My apologies, but in a shokugeki, one party can only surrender after the other has served their dish," Wang Yao rejected him without a shred of mercy.
"Contestant Mo Bai! I was wrong before! I have money, I can compensate you!" In the throes of endless terror, Yoshino Takashi had completely lost his sanity, thinking only of ending this nightmarish shokugeki.
"Money? I don't think I have much need for it."
"…A fishing fleet! Your Auspicious Fish Shop definitely needs a fleet, right? I can transfer the fleet under the Yoshinoya name to your shop!"
"Oh? That might not be bad." Mo Bai hadn't expected such a pleasant surprise. It was perfect; he could have Wang Xiang switch careers and become an old sea captain in charge of the fleet. "Judge Wang Yao, can this condition be added to the shokugeki?"
"Naturally. Contestant Yoshino, do you confirm the condition you just stated?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Then I'll graciously accept." The kitchen knife danced on the cutting board, and in less than five minutes, an exquisitely plated sashimi dish was served to the judges' panel.
Not a single person picked up their chopsticks. Yoshino Takashi's self-mutilation had completely ruined their appetites.
"Due to Yoshino Takashi's forfeiture, I hereby declare the winner of this shokugeki to be contestant Mo Bai."
"It's over just like that?"
"He can't even chop vegetables. What a weakling!"
"Are the IGO's star ratings really this watered down? How can a loser like that be a three-star chef?"
The shokugeki, which had started with a roar and ended with a whimper, was over, but the commotion among the noisy crowd had yet to cease.
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