Chapter Twenty-Four: Transition

The residential training was finally over, and Feng Xue could at last breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks to his outstanding performance during the program, he had secured a ticket to participate in the Autumn Selection. Although his primary objectives in this world had all been achieved—and then some—not only had he mastered the fundamentals of various cuisines, he had also grasped the Chef’s True Meaning, awakened his gourmet cells, and even nurtured his own Food Spirit.

Yet, despite all this, Feng Xue still had to pour every ounce of effort into the Autumn Selection, even though he knew it would do little to further his own growth. If not for the constraints of the transmigration mechanism, he would have returned to the main world without a second thought. After all, when it came to mastering supernatural abilities, his own fumbling could never compare to the vast resources of the Central Transmigrator Academy back in his home world.

However, having not chosen to receive the Crimson Fortune, Feng Xue now had only three ways to leave this world: utterly collapse the world, reach the end of the main storyline, or complete his assigned mission. The path of total world collapse was fraught with hardship—not as simple as blowing up Totsuki Academy and calling it a day. This was a realm devoted to gastronomy; if Totsuki fell, there would be other academies to take its place, and the protagonist might just transfer schools or embark on a journey to rebuild Totsuki as an idol (ahem). The world would not break so easily. To truly bring about collapse, he would need to shift humanity’s focus away from cuisine to something else entirely.

For instance, becoming the God of Otaku, spreading otaku culture across the globe, and ultimately transforming the world into a haven for geeks. If he were a legendary-level powerhouse, he might be able to reshape the world’s consciousness through his own domain, but as a mere Exceptional-level rookie—even at the peak of his class—it was nearly impossible to alter the fabric of the world single-handedly.

Of course, there was always the option of becoming a super-assassin, targeting world leaders to plunge the nations into war and send the world into a post-nuclear wasteland where everyone would be scavenging for survival. Such a scenario would certainly break the world line, but Feng Xue was under no illusion that he could survive the backlash. Exceptional was still just Exceptional; faced with strategic weapons or even a simple human wave assault, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

As for waiting for the main story to end, that was even less reliable. When Feng Xue transmigrated, “Food Wars” had yet to conclude, and who knew when it would? If he were lucky, he might graduate in three years, or the manga might be axed early, but if not, the story could stretch on endlessly—like “Cooking Master Boy” after leaving Yangquan Restaurant, embarking on a world tour of culinary duels that might never end! An Exceptional-level transmigrator’s lifespan capped at one hundred and fifty years; though not short, he couldn’t afford to waste it in a world with so little to offer.

All things considered, the most dependable option was to complete his mission at the summit of Tsukigakure. And so, Feng Xue returned to studying his recipes.

Of course, his recipes were anything but ordinary. From the peculiar ingredients he had purchased, it was clear that Feng Xue’s room had now become strictly off-limits to the other residents of Polar Star Dormitory. It resembled nothing so much as a drug lab—a term coined by Yuki, who was also the first to realize the dangers of that room. The trouble had begun when one of Yuki’s pet wild rabbits wandered into Feng Xue’s kitchen.

Everyone at Polar Star knew of Yuki’s notorious “bad habit” of keeping wild animals in her room. Normally, this would be harmless enough, but her pets often escaped. When Feng Xue first arrived, Yuki and her animals had been a bit reserved around him and Soma, but after surviving the residential training together, she began to see everyone as family—and so did her pets.

Thus, it was inevitable that one unlucky rabbit named Bun-chan would end up in Feng Xue’s kitchen.

By the time Yuki arrived, Bun-chan was already sprawled on the floor, twitching, while Feng Xue stood over a massive cauldron, stirring its bubbling contents. Floating within were countless fingernail-sized chunks of meat, resembling offal of indeterminate origin. The pot reeked of alcohol—a heady aroma that grew stronger as Feng Xue kept adding more. Yuki soon noticed that he wasn’t just adding any kind of liquor, but pure medical ethanol at 99% concentration!

Momentarily stunned, Yuki finally remembered her purpose and cried out in alarm, “Bun-chan!”

From that day forward, Feng Xue’s room earned the nickname “the drug lab.”

Feng Xue could only sigh at this development. In his quest to create the perfect seasoning, he had spent the past days researching the processing methods for fugu blood, liver, and ovaries, experimenting with every possible approach to render these poisonous ingredients edible.

Fugu blood tofu, he found, was delicate and refined, with a tight texture and none of the usual fishy odor—just a dash of white liquor made it delicious. For the liver, he used a method similar to making foie gras, creating a rich and creamy spread with a unique tingling sensation, though the organ was so small that it was gone in just two bites. The ovaries were even tastier—seafood roe is almost always delicious, though fugu ovaries are at their best only a few months of the year, and otherwise shrivel up. Feng Xue dried and ground them into powder, or simmered them with the offal.

His original plan had been to dry the offal and grind it into a uniquely flavored seasoning, but he discovered that fugu innards carried a strange fishiness—imperceptible when eaten directly, but unacceptable in a condiment. So he switched tactics, using the traditional method for making chicken bouillon: simmering the innards and blood to extract their essence, filtering and reducing until only powder remained.

Of course, these were only similar to bouillon cubes, not pure fugu toxin. Since he only needed seasoning, there was no reason to extract crystalline toxins in a lab setting.

But fugu toxin breaks down in boiling water within half a day, so Feng Xue had to add alcohol to his stock to lower the temperature—since alcohol boils at around 78°C, any excess would evaporate, taking heat with it and keeping the pot below 100°C.

Once the alcohol test succeeded, Feng Xue began substituting various distilled spirits to see how their aromas might affect the flavor of fugu toxin.

His efforts were not in vain. He eventually discovered that ethanol distilled from huangjiu enhanced the dreamlike, ethereal flavor of the fugu toxin. His experiment had thus shifted from creating a seasoning to neutralizing the toxin.

The process was intricate. Fugu toxin requires at least thirty minutes at high temperature to break down, but this also causes carbonization, destroying its unique taste. Only in mildly alkaline conditions do glucose compounds break down the toxin safely.

With this knowledge, Feng Xue found a new direction: alkaline detoxification.

However, most alkaline substances are astringent, which frustrated him. Thus, his attention turned to alkaloids.

And when it comes to alkaloids, one cannot ignore the most famous kind—venom.

Indeed, snake venom, scorpion venom, and many other protein-based toxins are alkaloids (fugu toxin is also alkaline, though not protein-based). Feng Xue favored them because these protein-based toxins break down with heat, yielding exquisite umami—hence, the more poisonous the snake, the tastier it is.

After treating fugu essence with various protein-based toxins—snake venom, scorpion venom, toad toxin—Feng Xue produced a top-tier ingredient that, once heated, released both intoxicating flavors and a thrilling sensation.

The downside, of course, was that his room had become even more hazardous.

Not that his days were spent solely on this pursuit; he was also exploring his Gourmet Demon.

His Gourmet Demon, butterfly-shaped, clearly wasn't a physical brawler. Yet, with his gourmet cells still at a low activation level, Feng Xue hadn’t developed any signature food techniques, nor could he use utensil skills or even the most basic hypersense.

Here, hypersense didn’t refer to the kind seen in “Cooking Master Boy,” but the fundamental ability granted by activated gourmet cells—a passive skill, in essence.

In the original story, the Gourmet Four Kings exemplified hypersense: Toriko’s was smell—he could detect food from kilometers away. Zebra’s was hearing, forming the basis of his sonic techniques. Sunny had touch, able to sense through every strand of his hair. Coco’s visual hypersense allowed him to see electromagnetic waves, perceive the history of objects through residual information, and even predict someone’s death by reading their aura.

Utensil skills were basic martial arts: Komatsu’s spoon, Toriko’s knife and fork, Ichiryu’s chopsticks, and Midora’s tongue—all counted as utensil skills. These weren’t trained through special methods, but seemed to arise naturally from the user’s preferences, channeling their life force and spirit until even nothingness could take shape.

Compared to these hallmarks of gourmet cells, Feng Xue could access only his Gourmet Demon’s innate ability—manipulating his own hair. (Innate abilities are the Demon’s natural gifts, like Coco’s poison affinity, which grants him toxin control and immunity, or Sunny’s hair, which is so fine it’s invisible to the naked eye. As for Toriko, his Blue and Red Demons don’t seem to have any special innate ability, but their enormous appetites make Toriko’s hunger insatiable.)

Because Feng Xue’s Gourmet Demon could turn its scales into tendrils, he could control his own hair’s cuticle layer, the part most akin to scales. But this was of limited use: he could lengthen or shorten his hair at will, but unlike Sunny, he couldn’t strengthen it, and without hypersense, his hair had no tactile feedback. He still needed his eyes to aim, and while his food sense made his hair as dexterous as hands, he could only pick up light objects like cups or spoons. Of course, this might only be temporary—once his gourmet cells grew stronger, perhaps a single strand of hair could one day lift a mountain.

But that was a matter for the future. For now, the only real change his Gourmet Demon brought was the ability to change his hairstyle at will.