"Look at the way it tosses the wok! Pay attention to its stance!"
"Every time it tosses the wok, the ingredients stay in the air for exactly 0.6 seconds. That's to let them fully interact with the oxygen and undergo instantaneous oxidation—the 'wok hei' everyone talks about!"
The Taoist Priest grew more and more excited as he spoke.
"And the way it sprinkled the salt just now! It used centrifugal force and aerodynamics to make the sodium chloride crystals form a uniform paraboloid in midair, ensuring the seasoning was evenly distributed!"
The Taoist Priest looked proudly at the High Monk, who stood there dumbfounded.
"And you, bald donkey, only saw some kind of compassion in it? How shallow! How ignorant! Superstition has ruined countless lives!"
The High Monk: "..."
The High Monk looked at the Vegetarian Chicken in his bowl. The sacred Zen spirit it had inspired no longer seemed appetizing.
He opened his mouth, struggled for a long while, then could only press his palms together helplessly and mumble:
"Taoist Priest... I may not understand a word you're saying... but could you please stop spraying saliva while you eat? It's unsanitary..."
In the peaceful atmosphere of everyone digging in, only Su Yun's frown grew deeper and deeper.
He looked at the figure everyone was treating like a deity, then at the experts around him, whose intelligence had clearly taken a nosedive. A powerful sense of dissonance welled up inside him.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
No matter how good the food was, this was still the first living Soul Beast on Earth!
These scientific fanatics, who could argue for three days straight over a single bacterial sample, had set aside their research and were earnestly discussing wok hei and Zen?
Su Yun lightly bit the tip of his