SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

“Do you trust him?”

“I trust what I’ve seen,” Nyara finally said. “He withstood a life and death battle against a peak earth magus. He healed my sister—something our healers failed at for a decade. And more importantly…” Her voice grew quieter. “He chose to help, even when he didn’t have to.”

Vasu exhaled, resting back on the throne. “You speak as if you care for him.”

Nyara didn’t flinch. “I care for the future of our people. If Kent is our fate, I will not let arrogance blind us again.”

The Patriarch was silent again before finally raising his hand. A flash of sea-blue light surged from his ring, and in a ripple of magical glow, a medallion appeared in his palm.

It was no ordinary token—shaped like a coiled Naga with a Sea Trident etched along its spine. The scales on the medallion shimmered, as if alive, and a faint pressure pulsed from it—one of command and ancient memory.

“This is the Naga Medallion of Trials,” Vasu said. “Only one issued per generation. It grants safe passage to the Sea Beast Lair and binds the lair’s spirits to our code of challenge.”

He extended it toward her, his fingers firm. “But listen, Nyara. If Kent enters, he cannot turn back midway. The spirits will not allow it. If he is not the one… he will die.”

Nyara took the medallion in both hands, bowing her head. “Then let him choose his fate.”

Vasu watched his daughter with a conflicted gaze. “You are becoming more like your mother,” he murmured. “Determined and too sharp for your own safety.”

Nyara’s lips curved slightly. “You always said Mother never picked the wrong current.”

“Hmph.” The old Patriarch leaned back with a sigh. “Prepare the ritual. I’ll send word to the Council that we are reopening the Sea Beast Lair. May the Ancestors watch your chosen one, daughter.”

With a final bow, Nyara turned and strode out of the throne hall, the medallion clutched in her hand. The weight of the task was heavy, but her heart was clear.

Kent would either rise in the eyes of the Ancestors…

Or be crushed by the tide that tested the chosen.

–

Loon Family…

The Loon Family’s kitchen was unlike any earthly cooking chamber. Built deep into the coral-layered eastern pearl caves, it sprawled across several glowing platforms over bubbling lava streams sealed with formation arrays.

Burning stoves made from fire-essence jade stones lined the circular kitchen, each one engraved with beast talismans to enhance flavor and aroma.

Enchanted pots hovered in the air, stirred by invisible qi hands. It was a sacred domain of culinary precision, maintained by flame-controlling elders.

Yet today… it felt like the heavens themselves had been flipped upside down.

“L-Lady Sana! Please! Don’t stir the Fire Cloud Mushrooms with the Star Vine Oil! They’ll—”

BOOM!

A geyser of pink steam exploded from the pot, spraying three nearby servants into the wall. Their robes fluttered like festival banners as they dropped with dazed expressions, smoke curling from their hair.

In the center of the chaos stood Sana Loon, draped in a flame-resistant silver apron over her delicate royal robes, her long hair tied in a crooked bun that somehow had two spirit-fish tangled inside. Her face was covered in sweat and flour, her hands wielding two ladles like spiritual weapons of destruction.

She glared at the smoking cauldron before her. “I swear this pot is plotting against me.”

Behind her, the Head Cook Elder, an old lady with eyebrows that looked like cooked noodles, was trembling on her cane.

“Y-You added Ice Lotus Root to Dragon Pepper Soup! It’s—it’s forbidden!”

Another mini-explosion burst from a nearby stove, blasting a puff of cinnamon-scented flame that singed the eyebrows of two observing Loon elders.

“G-grandpa!” cried a child peeking from the corner. “Is cousin Sana trying to assassinate the kitchen?”

One of the Loon elders—Uncle Zhao, who always wore meditation beads and claimed to have achieved “culinary enlightenment”—rubbed his chin with a grave expression.

“I thought the girl was learning swordplay from a famous rogue cultivator. But now I fear she’s mastering the forbidden Dao of… Culinary Catastrophe.”

Meanwhile, servants were sneaking behind pillars, heads poking out in a synchronized dance of dread and curiosity. A few brave ones held fire-quenching talismans ready. One younger servant whispered, “Ten spirit coins say the main stove explodes in the next five minutes.”

“No way,” another whispered. “That’s a Heaven-rank pot. It can’t—”

CRASH!

A pot flew across the air, landing on the elder’s bald head with a ding, leaving a perfect imprint of the Loon family crest on his skull.

“…I stand corrected.”

Sana, unaware of the growing panic in the background, furiously flipped a Golden Shell Crab with both hands. The crab squealed and ran across the counter, escaping into the crowd of stunned observers. A few children shrieked as it scuttled between their legs, still wearing a sauce-soaked lettuce hat.

“Where’s that—wait, no! Get back in the wok!” Sana yelled, chasing after the crab.

At this moment, Kent entered the kitchen with his hands behind his back, looking calm and composed like a noble alchemist visiting a medicine garden. A dozen injured cooks parted for him like the Red Sea, their bandaged limbs waving in silent warning.

He blinked at the scene—Sana tripping over a sauce jar, flaming dumplings bouncing across the counter, and three dazed pets lying under the table with smoking tails.

He cleared his throat. “…This is the meal you promised for me and my pets?”

Sana stood up, her hair now looking like a fried sea urchin, and proudly pointed at a blackened, vaguely pancake-shaped object floating in the wok.

“This is Soul-Seared Spirit Cake. Took me only six tries.”

One of the spirit pets—Sparky the dragonling—peeked from Kent’s storage ring and gagged audibly.

“Why is it moving?” Kent asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s… fresh,” Sana replied with a very forced smile.

Suddenly, the cave trembled.

All eyes turned to the main stove, which was now glowing red like the heart of a volcano.

The old Head Cook gasped. “She placed three Fire Essence Fruits and a Wind Explosion Herb in the pressure pot…”

“…That’s a spirit bomb recipe!!” Uncle Zhao screamed, grabbing the nearest child and running.

“EVERYONE OUT!” someone shouted as the stove emitted a shrill whine.

Sana blinked innocently. “Oh, it’s supposed to whistle like that, right?”

Everyone closed their ears and eagerly waited for a ground-breaking explosion.