Chapter Fifteen: The Art of Pufferfish Cuisine

Since the story made it to the recommendations, it’s time for a burst of effort. During the recommendation period, there will be two updates daily, each consisting of three thousand words. In light of such sincerity, please send more recommendation votes!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wenxu cast a sidelong glance, eyeing Feng Xue’s confident face. It was hard to say whether she believed him or not. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally blurted out, “Would you dare eat fugu you prepared yourself?”

“Of course!” Feng Xue replied with unwavering certainty, which seemed to give Wenxu a bit more confidence as well.

Led by Mrs. Wenxu, Feng Xue finally arrived at a kitchen equipped with an independent cooking station.

Feng Xue deftly opened his case and took out the kitchen tools he had prepared. Due to the extreme toxicity of fugu, all utensils used in its preparation must be strictly sterilized. After the dish is finished, every item, even kitchen paper, must be accounted for, much like a surgical operation.

To avoid causing trouble for anyone else, Feng Xue had naturally brought an entirely new set of tools.

“You’ve certainly thought things through,” Mrs. Wenxu remarked, though she curled her lip. In her eyes, Feng Xue’s preparations were already lacking—he hadn’t made ready any alkaline water to neutralize the fugu toxin, nor had he set aside a container for disposing of the innards and blood.

After all, even with new utensils, it’s impossible to completely prevent blood from splattering in the kitchen...

This thought had barely formed in Wenxu’s mind when Feng Xue’s actions caught her off guard.

His knife work was precise; he handled the gills and began bleeding the fish with practiced efficiency.

But Mrs. Wenxu quickly sensed that something was off—the blood was draining much too quickly! Under normal circumstances, bleeding a fish would never proceed this fast. What she didn’t know was that Feng Xue was using Ripple Energy to create vibrations within the fish, applying pressure to the blood vessels and accelerating the flow of blood.

Originally, this technique was meant to enhance one’s own explosive power—similar in principle to Luffy’s Second Gear—but now Feng Xue was applying it to bleeding the fish, and the effect was quite impressive.

In a short while, the poisonous blood was completely drained. Rather than discard it, Feng Xue carefully sealed it in a delicate bottle. Although Mrs. Wenxu had no idea what he intended to do with the poisonous blood, she was certain this was not the usual way to handle kitchen waste.

Next, Feng Xue’s movements were as fluid as if he had performed them thousands of times—slicing the mouth, removing the fins, peeling the skin, gouging out the eyes, taking out the gills, splitting the back, extracting the brain, and finally removing the internal organs.

His technique was clean and efficient; even the minuscule innards were extracted intact, without so much as nicking the fish flesh.

Seeing this, Mrs. Wenxu finally nodded. Maximizing the edible portions is a must for any fugu chef. Still, she wondered whether Feng Xue’s skillful hands could truly guarantee the removal of toxins.

However, what Feng Xue did next made the newly hopeful Mrs. Wenxu anxious again, for she saw him toss the entire fish into a Chinese-style wok filled halfway with clean water.

“If you don’t slice it, no matter how much you shake it, the toxins won’t come out!” Mrs. Wenxu couldn’t help but warn. But Feng Xue was unmoved, gripping the wok and shaking it vigorously. Chaotic ripples formed in the water, and on a level invisible to the naked eye, Feng Xue’s ripples pressed clean water into the fish’s blood vessels, flushing out residual blood through the capillaries that spread throughout the fugu’s body. Incidentally, this also sped up the process of lactic acid removal—freshly killed fugu cannot be eaten immediately; it needs time to mature and rest, to allow the flavors to develop, a process that can take half a day to a day depending on the preparation style. Of course, traditional Chinese fugu soup, which is hard-braised for at least eight hours, doesn’t require such treatment.

Feng Xue’s left hand was not idle either. With just one hand, he skillfully peeled the fish skin. Fugu has two layers of skin—the outer layer contains hard spines that must be removed. If not, they can scratch the esophagus or even the stomach lining. The claim that fish spines are good for digestion is nonsense, a myth spread by unscrupulous chefs lazy about deboning. In fact, Feng Xue knew several people who had passed bloody stools from eating spiny fish skin. This deboning is typically the most labor-intensive part; if the knife work isn’t precise, the spines remain, and the skin is ruined. But with the “culinary sense” granted by his abilities, Feng Xue could always find the optimal cutting points. In just two minutes, the spines were cleanly removed—a process that used to take an hour, though there are machines for it now. Many traditional Japanese fugu restaurants, however, still insist on doing it by hand, claiming machines ruin the texture. But if the skin is to be cooked into aspic, then such fussiness is unnecessary.

After that, the fish skin was sliced into fine strips, blanched, and tossed as a cold dish. The bones with bits of meat were pan-fried and, along with the tongue, put into a clay pot to make soup. The fins were set aside to be air-dried, then lightly grilled to make fugu fin sake. Feng Xue also remembered to lift the fish from the wok and set it on kitchen paper to drain.

As for the most delicious part—the fugu liver—Feng Xue did not touch it. Instead, he sealed it in a small bottle. There was no helping it; this was a wild-caught fugu, and the liver is the organ most saturated with toxins. Even if he prepared it, no one would dare eat it (even in Japan, it’s rare for anyone to risk eating the liver of supposedly non-toxic fugu).

With the accompaniments ready and the fish flesh sufficiently drained, Feng Xue took up a new knife and began slicing sashimi. His technique was unrefined, even awkward—not at all like a chef steeped in years of knife skills. In fact, it seemed almost menacing, but his precision would have stunned many veteran chefs.

In just five minutes, a beautifully arranged plate of fugu sashimi appeared, the slices forming a delicate spiral like the petals of a flower. Each piece was uniform in size, clear as a mirror, white as paper, and transparent enough to let light shine through.

Fugu is quite different from salmon. Salmon is rich in fat, so sashimi is usually sliced thick (though modern hotels often serve it thin, sacrificing texture). Fugu, with almost no fat, requires the thinnest slices possible, much like carp.

Looking at the table, now graced with a full set of fugu dishes, Wenxu’s expression visibly improved.

Feng Xue, oblivious to her reaction, picked up a slice of sashimi and, without any sauce, brought it straight to his mouth.

“Don’t worry. Totsuki Academy has a dedicated medical team for all kinds of food poisoning, and I’ve got emergency antidotes for acute fugu poisoning right here (not something that exists in reality). Even if you’re poisoned, there’s time enough to save you.” Wenxu, seeing Feng Xue’s fearless action, finally relaxed. But she kept her phone in hand, the number dialed and ready, as if she might call for help at any second.

The flavor of the fugu was indeed superb—wild-caught tasted especially exquisite. The fresh, firm texture was still evident even in such thin slices.

Feng Xue prepared a plate of yuzu vinegar for dipping. For white-fleshed fish like fugu, there’s no need for complicated sauces—a little vinegar is enough to highlight the umami. A slice dipped and placed in the mouth brought a tangy, sweet, springy sensation—a unique experience for the palate.

Especially with the minuscule amount of toxin Feng Xue had deliberately left behind, there was a faint, tingling stimulation that made it hard to stop at just one.

The fish skin, shredded and chilled, was crisp like jellyfish, but with a unique freshness. The trace toxins in the wild fugu skin even gave a slight spicy tingle to the tongue.

The soup, made from the tongue and bones, was not overpowering but carried a subtle yuzu-like fragrance and an unmatched umami. It could serve as a base stock, though its depth of flavor might overpower ordinary ingredients.

Although Feng Xue had once eaten fugu whale before, that was before he had acquired gourmet cells, and he didn’t know how much growth it had brought. Now, after just one fugu meal, he could feel his body’s strength increase by at least thirty percent (after all, Feng Xue was only at the “Uncommon” level, and mainly a magic user at that—his physical strength was merely at the level of an ordinary soldier).

Seeing how much Feng Xue was enjoying his meal, Wenxu couldn’t help but try a slice of sashimi and a small bowl of soup herself.

“The knife work is masterful—each sashimi slice follows the grain perfectly, the sizes all but identical. Achieving that texture while slicing so thin is impressive. But the soup’s heat was not quite right. Pan-frying the bones draws out the aroma, but if the oil doesn’t match the bones, it brings the score down. If you can’t find the right oil, perhaps try roasting instead. As for the fish skin…” Mrs. Wenxu, a senior at Totsuki Academy, spared no words in her critique.

Feng Xue listened humbly, carefully packing all the used knives, boards, pots, and bowls, and placing them in a high-temperature sterilizer. He plugged it in, set the temperature to 120°C, and in just half an hour, everything would be disinfected.

One cannot deny the advantages of a modern world. In a place like “Cooking Master Boy,” you’d have to boil everything for days (theoretically, four hours at 100°C can disinfect, but in practice, water often boils below 100°C due to atmospheric pressure), or perhaps just throw it into the fire.

Mrs. Wenxu finished her tasting, sipped her tea, and said, “Your skills are excellent. If you need it, I can help you apply for a fugu chef’s certificate. As for the room you wanted—the one on the far left of the second floor is mostly unused, it has a cooking station, and it’s quite spacious. There’s even an aquarium inside. You can stay there.”

With that, Mrs. Wenxu disappeared, presumably to digest.

Having received the “Dorm Supervisor’s” permission, Feng Xue didn’t rush to settle into his new territory. Instead, he did something that would have stupefied anyone who saw it—

He drank the fugu blood he had sealed in the small bottle!

ps: The original doesn’t specify whether the first class is held the day after the opening ceremony or immediately after. Usually, the opening ceremony is the day before formal classes begin, since students still need to collect textbooks and such. If you can’t accept it, just consider it a difference in the “half-plane” setting. Anything not mentioned in the original could vary—after all, this is a world born of imagination.

ps2: It seems my end-of-chapter recommendations are quite auspicious. The Demon King I just recommended seems to have been axed. I’ve already deleted earlier recommendations. Let’s have a moment of silence.