" You're too chicken to even let me drink your bathwater, and you still have the nerve to run a restaurant?! Compared to Manager Wang, you're complete trash!"
Whoosh—
The packed, noisy crowd seemed to have been hit by some kind of group Soul Skill.
A three-meter radius around the burly man instantly became a total vacuum.
The auntie who'd been in tears just moments ago now covered her grandson's ears in terror and backed away repeatedly.
The guy beside her quietly put away the hamburger he'd just bought and stared at the man as if he were some kind of alien.
Even Wang Er, who'd been wiping his mouth, froze, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Bro, you may be on our side, but isn't your approach a little too unhinged?
The older sheriff's face darkened. He silently picked up the Soul Communicator hanging from his shoulder and spoke into it in a low voice:
"Hello, headquarters? I'm outside the Nezha Burger shop."
"Yeah, no hygiene issues."
"But we've caught a pervert who makes sexual harassment sound so wholesome."
"Right, send a couple more people over and take him in for a psychiatric evaluation. If he's not insane, put him straight in North City Prison. Don't let him out to harass the lady boss."
As the burly man who'd shouted about drinking the lady boss's bathwater was hauled away by two officers who'd arrived, dragged along like a dead pig, the farce didn't fizzle out. Instead, it pushed the atmosphere to a whole new level of bizarre.
"That guy was a little perverted, but he had a point! Nezha Burger's the only place with the guts to stand up like that!"
"Long live Manager Wang! Long live Nezha Burger!"
The crowd's cheers erupted like a tsunami. Standing in the middle of it, Luo Bu heard their praise and could only think that they were noisy.
This world...
Had gone completely mad!
"Luo, I think that's enough."
The older sheriff patted Luo Bu on the shoulder, a playful look in his eyes.
"Since you have such an uncompromising commitment to food safety, and even brought us here for a lesson... then, to be fair..."
The sheriff pointed across the road at the splendidly decorated Flavor Gathering Pavilion.
"Since we're already here, why don't we inspect your family's restaurant too? With your high standards, young master Luo, surely your own kitchen is cleaner than this one—and its toilet water tastes better too, right?"
"Huh? No... Urgh... there's no need for that, is there?"
At those words, Luo Bu's already pale face turned the color of liver. He was so scared he stopped retching.
He knew what his family's kitchen was like, didn't he?
It was a biological weapons testing ground!
"How can we skip it? The law must be enforced equally!"
The sheriff didn't give him a chance to refuse. Without another word, he hoisted Luo Bu, whose legs had gone limp as noodles, and dragged him toward the Flavor Gathering Pavilion while the onlookers chanted, "Inspect them! Inspect them!"
Ten minutes later, in the kitchen of the Flavor Gathering Pavilion.
When the sheriff pushed open the greasy door, which had left a layer of black gunk on his hand, a compound stench of rancid old oil, spoiled slop, dead fish, and rotten shrimp hit them in the face.
"Cough, cough, cough!!"
The two sheriffs nearly dropped dead on the spot from the smell.
Under the dim lights, the floor was as black as asphalt, and every step left sticky strands behind.
Thick layers of grease covered the stove, and the rag was so black no one could tell what color it had originally been.
But the most shocking thing was the diversity of life in the kitchen.
In the vegetable-prep area, five or six huge, sleek black rats sat in a circle.
When they heard strangers come in, they didn't scatter in alarm. Instead, they all turned their heads in unison, their tiny, beady eyes gleaming with displeasure.
The one in front even stood upright, planted its forepaws on its greasy waist, twitched its whiskers, and squeaked twice at the sheriff.
"Th-this is your idea of hygiene?"
The sheriff's hand was already on his baton, and his voice trembled.
"It's a misunderstanding! All a misunderstanding!"
Luo Bu rushed forward, sweating profusely, trying to block their view with his massive frame as he stammered out an explanation:
"Th-these are the restaurant's ingredient quality-control inspectors! They have keen noses and are specially trained to check whether the ingredients are fresh!"
Before Luo Bu could finish, an even more outrageous sight appeared.
Flames leapt from the main stove at the very back.
A thin, disheveled chef with hair like a bird's nest was wielding a huge ladle, utterly lost in a frenzied state of cooking.
His eyes were vacant, his mouth murmured nonsense, and the wok in his hands flipped up and down so quickly he looked like he was performing some kind of ritual dance.
And sitting on top of his messy head was a tiny rat wearing a miniature chef's hat!
The rat had a solemn expression. Its little pink paws clutched two locks of the chef's hair on either side, as if it were piloting a giant mecha.
"Squeak! (Hard to port!)"
The rat yanked hard on the hair to its left.
The chef's head immediately tilted left, and his left hand scooped up the salt jar and sprinkled in a precise handful.
"Squeak, squeak! (More firepower!)"
The rat frantically tugged the hair in the middle.
The chef gritted his teeth in pain and roared. His right foot stomped on the ground, and his Soul Power erupted, sending the flames soaring three feet high!
"Squeeeeeak! (Toss the wok!)"
The rat yanked backward.
The chef twisted at the waist and swung the ladle up. The food in the wok traced a perfect arc through the air before landing steadily back inside.
Their seamless teamwork, a perfect union of man and rat, left everyone at the door dumbfounded, their entire worldview shattered.
"Wh-what the hell is this supposed to be?!"
The sheriff felt his sanity plummeting.
Luo Bu covered his face and groaned in despair:
"Th-that's our head chef... His Martial Soul is hair..."
"Because of a Martial Soul Mutation, it has no offensive abilities. Its only trait is that it lets someone else take complete control of his body. As long as you grab his hair, you can control him!"
"Because his Martial Soul was completely useless, he spent fifteen whole years chopping scallions in the kitchen! Fifteen years!!"
"Until one day... when he was dumping slop in the back alley, he met Rat."
Luo Bu's eyes filled with a reverence for fate:
"At that moment, the gears of their souls clicked into place."
"Rat had godlike taste and an absolute mastery of heat, but he was a Soul Beast and didn't have human hands. Old Wang had a powerful body, but lacked the brains to cook!"
"Rat jumped onto his head and grabbed his hair."
"A miracle happened!"
Luo Bu waved his hands excitedly, as if describing a divine revelation:
"Old Wang was no longer the useless guy who could only chop scallions. He became Rat's—high-level spiritual transmission vessel!"
"We simply call him—Gundam!!"