Chapter 21
Chapter 21: The One Swinging the Big Hammer
That day, Hu Qing finally snapped. She smashed a whole basket of tender cucumbers until juice sprayed everywhere and the pieces were unrecognizable. She crushed the last one in half, then crunched on what remained.
“Master Han, why aren’t you scolding me?” she demanded around a mouthful of cucumber. “I mean—look at this.”
She gestured broadly at the massacre she’d made.
Master Han was obsessive about cleanliness. If one helper let even a single fleck of chopped vegetable splatter off the board, he’d lecture them for ages.
Today she’d turned the room into a crime scene, and her elder was still staring into space.
After more than half a year together, Hu Qing considered herself fairly close with him. She wouldn’t have dared act like this if she hadn’t seen how distracted he was. Since his mind clearly wasn’t on her, she might as well let herself collapse and vent months of frustration.
But Master Han only swept his gaze over the floor, the counter, and the wall, then returned to frowning as if the world were ending.
Hu Qing’s stomach dropped. She swallowed her last bite and hurried over, waving her hand in front of his face. “Master Han? Are you… reaching the end of your lifespan?”
Even the way he glared looked tired. He weakly knocked her hand away and sighed. “More or less.”
Hu Qing froze. “Then buy life-extending pills! You’ve got money.”
Master Han turned his body slightly away. “Money won’t get them.”
“That can’t be right. I heard Da Mu and the others say there are lots of kinds. The cheap ones that add fifty years aren’t hard to buy.”
Fifty years was nothing to an immortal. That was why those were cheap.
Hu Qing narrowed her eyes and studied him.
He looked worn down, but his spiritual power was full. His vitality was strong. Everything about him screamed that he’d live for a long time.
Unless…
Hu Qing leaned in, grave as a judge. “Master Han, there’s no hurdle you can’t get over. You have to think things through. I’ve heard people who kill themselves get a terrible reincarnation.”
Master Han spat, disgusted.
Hu Qing brightened, as if she’d solved it. “Ah! An enemy is coming for you?”
“My enemies,” Master Han said flatly, “are cooking challenges.”
No life-and-death feuds.
Hu Qing muttered under her breath. Then what was it—family drama?
As if he’d finally made up his mind, Master Han sighed and flicked his sleeve. The wet mess vanished—floor, counter, wall, all clean in an instant.
“I’ll show you something,” he said.
“Show me what?” Hu Qing blinked. “An injury?”
Master Han walked to a table and, with a tenderness that didn’t match his temper, took out a complete set of cookware.
A full set.
Nine pots, from the largest down to the smallest. Nine spatulas, from the smallest up to the largest. Nine knives of different lengths, widths, and thicknesses.
Then he set down a stove. Just one, but the fire ports were separated by size to match the pots.
The pots, spatulas, knives, and stove were all made from the same material: purple sand gold. It was rare in the lower realm, but in the immortal realm it should be easy enough to find.
The patterns were the same across the set, too—goldfish, delicate and charming. Each fish was different, lively enough to look like it might swim off the metal.
Hu Qing couldn’t help thinking it looked less like cookware and more like art.
“It’s broken,” Master Han said, his voice heavy.
Hu Qing stepped closer and picked up a spatula, testing its weight. She lifted a knife and examined the edge against the light. She ran her fingers along the rim of the largest pot, then crouched to feel the stove.
“It’s not broken,” she said, certain. “It’s just been unused for a long time. It’s fatigued. It needs a refresh, that’s all.”
Hu Qing looked up—and startled.
Master Han was staring at her, eyes sharp. “You understand this?”
Hu Qing smiled. “I’m an artifact refiner.”
Master Han’s posture straightened. “You swing the big hammer?”
Hu Qing nodded hard. “And I can flip a big ladle, too.”
Master Han didn’t care about ladles. His mind was already racing. “You really are an artifact refiner? Then can you—”
He stopped, frustration flashing. “Forget it. You’re only at Nascent Soul Stage. What can you do?”
“Hey.” Hu Qing’s smile sharpened. “Low cultivation doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. For this set, I’ll say it clearly: I can fix it. As for payment—pay what you think is fair.”
Free labor was off the table. She was so poor she could practically taste dirt.
Master Han had crouched beside the stove again, stroking the metal with the kind of gentle reverence people saved for lovers.
Hu Qing shuddered. For a split second, a ridiculous thought crossed her mind. Master Han didn’t like women—did he like—
“This was a gift from my wife,” he said quietly.
Hu Qing exhaled. “Oh.”
“She wasn’t in great health. She barely reached Divine Transformation Stage. When her lifespan ran out, she…” His voice went rough at the end.
Hu Qing blurted, “Master Han, I’ll fix it. I won’t charge you.”
He flicked her a look that said, You can’t. “Twenty-eight pieces, big and small. You’d have to do them all in one go, from start to finish.”
“I can.”
“Every inch has to be hammered nine hundred ninety-nine times, continuously.”
“I can.”
“Nine rounds. No stopping in between.”
“I can.”
“I asked more than a dozen artifact refiners. Not one would take the job.”
“I can,” Hu Qing said again, even more firmly.
Master Han sighed. “They’re not incapable. They just don’t want it. They think it’s a hassle.”
Hu Qing patted his forearm. “I can do it. Believe me.”
“If you were even a low-grade Spirit Immortal,” Master Han said, “I’d believe you.”
“Artifact refining depends on talent,” Hu Qing shot back. “Cultivation isn’t everything.”
Master Han narrowed his eyes. “All that nine-nine after nine-nine, without losing your breath the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t miscount even once.”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t let your mind wander.”
“It won’t.”
“The force has to stay even.”
“It will.”
Master Han waved his hand. “I don’t believe you.”
Hu Qing leaned in, coaxing. “Master Han, just trust me. I understand this kind of artifact. Its grade isn’t so—cough. I can handle it.”
“You want me to risk it?” Master Han jabbed a finger at her, then at himself. “Do you know how precious this is?”
Hu Qing laughed, bright and fearless. “Fine. I’ll bet my dignity as an artifact refiner.
“I won’t touch your treasure yet. You give me the same material, one full set’s worth, and I’ll show you in front of your own eyes whether I can do nine-nine after nine-nine.”
Her tone was decisive—no wavering, no bargaining.
For the first time, the confidence rolling off Hu Qing had nothing to do with slicing vegetables. It was sharp and solid, like steel.
Master Han hesitated. Then he clenched his teeth. “Fine. I’ll watch you myself.”
Word spread through the kitchen like wildfire.
Master Han was going to watch Da Qing refine artifacts—refine artifacts!
Da Mu nearly ran to Hu Qing after work. “Why would you do this to yourself?”
Hu Qing laughed. “Because I’m an artifact refiner.”
“What level are you, daring to show off in front of Master Han?”
“I’m confident,” Hu Qing said. “Just wait and see.”
Da Mu stared at her, lost. “Wasn’t it about slicing vegetables? How did it turn into artifact refining? Do you think our knives are bad?”
Hu Qing didn’t answer. There was no point.
The refining room was provided by Master Han. The furnace was provided by Master Han. Even the spirit-gathering array to feed the furnace had to be set up by Master Han himself.
“Damn it,” Master Han muttered at one point, “I really fell for your nonsense.”
Hu Qing immediately bent at the waist, all humility. “My luck’s been terrible lately. When I finally rise to glory, Master Han, I’ll treat you and everyone to the finest banquet on the peak.”
Master Han laughed. “Then I’ll have to taste the cooking of Food Delicacies’ top Immortal Food Master.”
Hu Qing’s curiosity sparked. “Master Han, what cultivation does that Immortal Food Master have?”
“Not high,” Master Han said with a dismissive wave. “People in our line don’t cultivate that diligently. The highest is only an Immortal Lord.
“But Food Delicacies’ strength…” He snorted. “No one dares bully us.”
Hu Qing understood. You couldn’t expect cooks to be bodyguards. Food Delicacies must be supporting powerful experts behind the scenes.