The Dough of the Salted Fish and the Rolling Pin of the Mortal

"You're in the way. Move aside."

Ling Ye's flat, almost dismissive tone, as if annoyed by her presence, was the final straw that shattered Su Wanqing's already frayed nerves. She sat on the carpet, a mere ten centimeters from the "divine artifact" – the steamed bun – her backside still throbbing. The peace brought on by the calming tea was once again replaced by a tempest!

Indignation! Overwhelming indignation!

This thing had nearly scared her to death! She'd fallen! And all she got was "you're in the way"?!

Su Wanqing suppressed the urge to grab the half-eaten bun beside her and hurl it at him (though she wouldn't dare touch it). Using her hands and feet, she scrambled off the carpet, practically rolling and crawling to the side, away from the shadowy corner that exuded an invisible, "constant" pressure. She lowered her head, her chest heaving, trying desperately to calm her churning emotions.

Ling Ye seemed satisfied with her compliance. He ignored Su Wanqing and scanned the luxurious living room, as if searching for something. Finally, his gaze landed on the open-plan kitchen... specifically, the island counter.

More precisely, the smooth, empty marble countertop of the island.

"I'm hungry," Ling Ye announced his physiological need concisely, as if the calming tea he'd just drunk was merely an appetizer. He stood up, barefoot, and padded towards the kitchen.

Su Wanqing's heart leaped into her throat again. What was this big shot going to do now? Was he going to make instant noodles in the purple clay teapot again? Or... pick up that half-eaten bun from the corner and gnaw on it?!

Ling Ye didn't touch the teapot, nor did he look at the corner. He walked to the island and, with utmost naturalness, pulled open an embedded cabinet door beside it. Inside were neatly arranged new cookware, baking molds, and... several bags of unopened premium flour and baking ingredients.

Ling Ye's eyes lingered on the bags with foreign labels for a moment, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He picked up a pinch of flour between two fingers, his expression one of disdain, and brought it to his nose to sniff.

"Tsk," he expressed his dissatisfaction openly, "The spiritual energy is thin, and the impurities are mixed... It'll have to do." His tone carried the helplessness of choosing the lesser of two evils.

Then, under Su Wanqing's stunned gaze, Ling Ye casually tore open a bag of expensive organic stone-ground high-gluten flour! Just like ripping open a bag of cheap potato chips! Without even glancing at the usage instructions on the packaging, he unceremoniously... whoosh! Dumped more than half the bag of snow-white flour onto the mirror-smooth black marble island countertop!

The flour piled up like accumulated snow, forming a small white hill.

Su Wanqing's heart ached at the sight of the valuable flour being "wasted"! But that wasn't the most outrageous part!

Ling Ye then picked up a brand-new stainless steel basin next to it (likely what she'd bought for proofing dough) and walked to the sink. He turned on the faucet, and clear tap water gushed into the basin. Again, he completely disregarded the water-to-flour ratio, casually filling it with... half a basin of water?

Carrying the basin back to the island, Ling Ye looked at the flour mountain on the counter, seemingly contemplating for a second. Then, with extreme casualness... he splashed half the basin of water onto the flour mountain?!

"Splash--!"

Water sprayed everywhere!

The dry flour instantly dispersed and became wet! Most of the water flowed directly onto the countertop, spreading out and mixing with the flour into a messy paste!

Su Wanqing: "!!!" She felt her culinary soul screaming! What... what was this, like mixing mud?!

However, Ling Ye acted as if he hadn't seen the disaster scene. He casually tossed the empty basin aside and then... reached out with both hands, plunging them directly into the wet, sticky flour paste!

Knead!

Extremely roughly, without any technique!

Like a child playing in a mud puddle! His hands churned, pressed, and pulled in the wet dough! The viscous mixture of flour and water coated his arms and his plain old t-shirt!

Su Wanqing closed her eyes in agony. It was over! Her Italian imported marble island counter, worth hundreds of thousands! And that limited-edition silk carpet (the water had already seeped onto it)!

But just as she thought this pastry disaster movie was about to reach its climax--

Ling Ye's kneading motion, ever so subtly, with an indescribable rhythm... changed.

Every press of his fingers, every fold, every pull, seemed to contain a trajectory that resonated with the rhythm of heaven and earth! A faint but incredibly pure Chaos Origin Qi, like the most skillful artisan, silently permeated every inch of the soft, wet dough as he kneaded!

"Sizzle..."

A faint sound, like the stirring of life, echoed.

The originally wet, sticky, lifeless dough on the island, under Ling Ye's seemingly rough but actually profound kneading, was as if it had been infused with a soul! Its stickiness rapidly increased, its structure becoming dense and elastic! The surface moisture and scattered flour were drawn in and merged by an invisible force! In just over ten seconds, a smooth, resilient, perfect dough that exuded the purest scent of wheat and a subtle, warm jade-like luster took shape in his hands!

The surface of the dough was as smooth as a mirror, with no wrinkles or dry powder visible, as if carved from the finest mutton-fat jade! It lay quietly in Ling Ye's hands, radiating a restrained yet vigorous life force!

Su Wanqing was dumbfounded again! This... this kneading technique... was it magic?! Where did that disastrous mess from before go?!

Ling Ye seemed reasonably satisfied with his "creation." He casually slapped the impossibly perfect dough onto the center of the island, making a soft "pat" sound. Then, he straightened up, his gaze beginning to roam around the kitchen.

"Rolling pin," he stated his need concisely, as if searching for a suitable tool.

Su Wanqing jolted, like a maid receiving an imperial decree, and hurried towards the nearby kitchenware storage cabinet. She pulled open the door, revealing various sizes and materials of rolling pins – jujube wood, beech wood, stainless steel, and even a silicone one with a non-stick coating.

She hesitated for a moment, operating on the principle that "big shots might prefer natural materials," and picked out an African blackwood rolling pin that felt the heaviest and had the most beautiful grain. She respectfully handed it over: "This... is this okay?"

Ling Ye took the expensive blackwood rolling pin, weighed it in his hand, and then rubbed the smooth wooden surface with his fingertip. Then, with extreme casualness... he tossed the rolling pin back into the cabinet!

"Too light," he commented, his tone carrying undisguised disdain, "Not handy."

Su Wanqing: "..." This was top-quality blackwood she'd spent a fortune on! Extremely dense!

"Then... how about this stainless steel one? It's heavier?" Su Wanqing wasn't giving up and picked up the heavy, solid stainless steel rolling pin.

Ling Ye took it, swung it casually, creating a faint whistling sound. Then, he tossed it back again.

"Too brittle," he pouted.

Su Wanqing was about to cry. A rolling pin could be too brittle?! Was he planning to roll dough or forge iron?!

Just as she was about to recommend the silicone non-stick one (though she felt it was even less likely to impress the big shot)--

Ling Ye's gaze, with utmost naturalness... landed on the worn cloth bag leaning against the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen, which he had casually thrown there.

Su Wanqing's heart skipped a beat! An ominous premonition instantly seized her!

As expected!

Ling Ye, barefoot, padded over and casually bent down, reaching his hand into the cloth bag that seemed to connect to an abyss!

Fumbling.

A few seconds later.

"Plop."

A faint sound, like heavy material rubbing against cloth.

Ling Ye pulled something out of the cloth bag... a stick?

The object was an extreme, profound black, as if it contained the deepest darkness from the universe's inception! It was only about a foot long and as thick as an arm. Its surface wasn't smooth but covered in countless fine, naturally formed, twisted, and coiling strange patterns, profound and unfathomable! The patterns faintly exuded a terrifying aura that suppressed all ages and bore the heavens and earth! Just being exposed to the air seemed to dim the surrounding light for a moment, and the floor beneath his feet sank ever so slightly!

It was the same... pitch-black short stick?! that Su Wanqing had glimpsed last night in the entryway cloth bag, instantly freezing her soul and causing the "Dragon Tooth" elite scout's detector to overload and melt!

Su Wanqing felt a chill shoot from the base of her spine to the crown of her head! Her legs went weak, and she almost fell to her knees! The terrifying memory of her perception being instantly crushed by its aura surged back like a tide! Her face was deathly pale, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word!

Meanwhile, Ling Ye, holding the "Fragment of Buzhou Mountain," an item potent enough to crush galaxies and drive ancient powerful beings mad, treated it like a mere fire poker. He casually weighed it in his hand, feeling its substantial weight, enough to slightly adjust a planet, and nodded with satisfaction.

"Hmm," he commented, his tone carrying the ease of someone who had "finally found a handy tool," "This... is acceptable."

Then, under Su Wanqing's gaze, which was filled with extreme horror and absurdity as if she were seeing a ghost--

Ling Ye, carrying the pitch-black "short stick" that exuded world-ending pressure, walked back to the island counter with a tap-tap sound. He very naturally pointed one end of the "short stick" at the smooth, supple, perfectly lustrous dough on the countertop.

His wrist dipped slightly, his movement as casual as flattening a piece of mud in the park.

The "rolling pin"... descended.

Outside the window, in a dense forest on a high slope about a kilometer away from the villa.

Hawkeye's face was still pale, but after emergency treatment and strong sedatives, he had barely regained mobility. He lay prone at an excellent vantage point, his high-powered sniper scope's eyepiece (equipped with psionic micro-light enhancement and thermal imaging) locked onto the villa's massive floor-to-ceiling windows.

His mission had been downgraded from infiltration reconnaissance to purely long-distance observation. Any form of active probing was absolutely forbidden! This was an ironclad rule!

The sniper scope's field of vision was somewhat blurry, severely interfered with by the villa's own invisible energy field, but he could barely make out the outlines of the living room and open kitchen.

He saw the target (Ling Ye) seemed to be... busy in the kitchen?

He saw Su Wanqing hand over two rolling pins, both of which the target had disdainfully tossed aside?

Then... the target walked towards that tattered cloth bag in the corner?

Hawkeye's heart leaped into his throat! That bag! The culprit behind the instruments exploding last night!

He held his breath, his fingers trembling slightly from tension. What would the target take out?! That stick that crushed his soul? Or that small basin that seemed like the return to silence of all things?!

A few seconds later.

The target pulled... a pitch-black short stick... out of the cloth bag?!

Even through the long distance and severe interference, the moment the short stick was exposed to the air, Hawkeye's sniper scope's vision violently distorted! An irresistible fear and sense of insignificance, originating from the depths of his soul, surged over him like a cold tide! The hand holding the sniper rifle trembled uncontrollably! The nightmarish memory from last night resurfaced clearly!

The target was holding that terrifying stick... and walking towards the island counter? What was he going to do?! Attack?! Destroy the villa?! Or...

Then, under Hawkeye's gaze, which was almost suffocating from extreme shock--

He clearly saw the target, with extreme casualness... press that pitch-black short stick, exuding world-ending pressure... down onto a white object on the island counter...?!

The movement... was like... rolling dough?!

Hawkeye's brain completely crashed.

The sniper scope slid powerlessly from his eyes.

His entire body went limp, as if his bones had been removed, collapsing onto the cold muddy ground. His eyes were hollow as he stared at the gray sky, unconsciously muttering repeatedly:

"Rolling pin... he used that thing... as a rolling pin... rolling pin... rolling pin..."