Stirring Up Trouble at the Peach Banquet

"Sun Wukong, do you know what you're doing?"

A loud shout rang out from the stage. It came from the Imperial Master in charge of security for the event, the Martial Grandmaster hailed as Number One Under Heaven—

Wang Shan!

"I just want to ask: since this is the World Famous Chef Exchange Conference, why wasn't I invited to the Peach Banquet?"

Feng Xue held up the plate. His tone was calm, yet carried a formidable pressure. Under its force, even opening his mouth was an immense strain for Wang Shan.

"You..."

On the judges' platform, Zhao Yu, a food critic with the title of "Emperor," frowned as he sat in the seat of honor. Before he could finish speaking, Feng Xue launched into his signature move. He used the Sound Attack Method, sending his voice soaring a thousand miles and burying Zhao Yu's words beneath it:

"The Culinary World, ruled by dirty power struggles, must come to an end. It's time to get things back on track. Food should be judged by taste, and chefs should be ranked by skill!

"Since you wouldn't give me a spot, then bring out a pastry chef who's better than me! I won't say more than this: I made this Peach Banquet dish too. I started when the host said to begin, and all the ingredients came from the venue. I recorded the whole process without a single edit or splice. I've backed it up hundreds of times and uploaded it to more than a hundred cloud drives.

"Judges, let's stick to the facts. The dish is right here. Why not give it a taste and see exactly how I fail to meet your entry standards—and why you had to insult me by calling me an 'assistant instructor'?

"Of course, please judge it