From the Future

The Human Race's Twenty-Third Reserve Camp.

A middle-aged cultivator sat behind a desk, picked up a jade slip, and examined it closely.

"Zhang Xiaoyun, born to a family of wandering cultivators. For generations, his ancestors made a living from the art of spirit food."

"When the Barren Ancient World invaded last time, his entire family was slaughtered. Zhang Xiaoyun was the only one left, so he enlisted."

"The above information has been verified. I await your decision, General."

Next came the names of several scouts responsible for gathering intelligence.

The middle-aged cultivator put the jade slip back on the desk and looked at the youth across from him.

Ordinary appearance, ordinary cultivation.

Under the man's gaze, the youth even looked nervous.

...Tsk. Another poor kid.

The middle-aged cultivator asked the adjutant beside him, "Are we short on cooks in our camp?"

"General, we've always been short on cooks. Last time, it was because we didn't have enough of them that the incident happened."

The middle-aged cultivator frowned.

Last time, all the cultivators in the reserve camp had complained about how awful the spirit food tasted, setting off a string of protests. Some had even brazenly fed it to the pigs.

—There were simply too many people. The cooks couldn't keep up, and the food's flavor naturally suffered.

The middle-aged cultivator asked, "How good is his cooking?"

"Several cooks have already tried his food. They all approve," the adjutant replied.

"Then what are we waiting for? Get him registered and enlist him. He can start helping out today."

"Yes, sir," the adjutant said.

The general cleared his throat, then addressed the youth across from him. "You're Zhang Xiaoyun, right? The whole camp's meals depend on you and the other cooks. Once you've joined, do your work carefully."

"Yes, sir." The youth