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Pope Palace, bedchamber.

Bibi Dong stood before the window, her chest heaving unevenly.

The way Qian Renxue had acted so meek and "green tea"-like last night was like a thorn stuck in her heart; she couldn't pull it out, and it throbbed with a dull ache.

Feeling restless, she prepared to circulate her Rakshasa Soul Power to forcefully suppress her emotions.

[Ding!]

A piercing mechanical sound exploded within her Sea of Divine Consciousness, making her ears ring.

[Triggered Exclusive Chef (Advanced Version) Quest: Spirit Meal Fish Soup!]

[Quest Requirements: Prepare a bowl of fish soup for the Lord of Creation. The fish meat must remain intact, the heat must be precise, and you are strictly forbidden from relying entirely on soul power to do the work!]

[Failure Penalty: Forced deduction of the target's favorability, immediate execution of four hundred hours of Soul-Devouring Pain (doubled)!]

Bibi Dong's breath hitched abruptly.

She stared fixedly at the scarlet words "Soul-Devouring Doubled," her stunningly beautiful face turning ash-gray in an instant, her teeth grinding together with a creaking sound.

Make fish soup?

And the fish meat has to be intact?

No using soul power?!

She was a dignified ninety-nine-level Limit Douluo, the supreme Pope of Martial Soul Hall, who had slain Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beasts and slaughtered countless Titled Douluos.

Now, this godforsaken system was actually making her serve a fish?!

The penalty countdown hung high above her head like a blood-red guillotine.

Bibi Dong's chest rose and fell violently several times; she was so angry she wanted to beat the system to a pulp.

In the end, she walked behind the screen without a word, roughly tore off her luxurious papal nightgown, and changed into an inconspicuous black casual outfit.

Late at night.

Martial Soul City Imperial Kitchen.

"Everyone, get out of the courtyard. Without the command of This Seat, anyone who dares to step within half a pace shall be executed without mercy."

Bibi Dong stood before the stove, her voice so cold it could freeze boiling water.

Inside the Imperial Kitchen, only Bibi Dong remained, along with a large wooden basin filled with water.

In the basin, a Black-Backed Carp weighing at least three jin was swimming happily.

Bibi Dong stepped forward and looked down at the fish, her gaze icy and filled with the dead silence of one inspecting prey.

Seemingly sensing danger, the carp gave a sudden flick of its tail.

"Plop!"

A spray of fishy water landed precisely on Bibi Dong's fair cheek.

Dead silence.

A terrifying, cold killing intent flashed through the depths of Bibi Dong's eyes, triggered instinctively by her status as a peak powerhouse.

She raised her right hand abruptly, treating this ignorant carp as a life-or-death enemy, and struck down with her palm! She intended to stun it.

"Slap! Boom!"

A dull, explosive sound rang out.

The force of a Limit Douluo was terrifying; even though she had deliberately held back her strength, the sturdy steel-inlaid wooden cutting board cracked into countless fissures on the spot.

As for that poor Black-Backed Carp... it didn't even have time to let out a cry before it was turned into a puddle of minced meat, embedded deep into the wood grain.

Fish scales, bones, and meat were all mixed together, completely ruined.

Bibi Dong looked at the indescribable pile of meat on the board, her eyelid twitching violently twice.

On the system panel, the words "fish meat must remain intact" were mocking her frantically.

She suppressed the urge to uproot the entire Imperial Kitchen, took a deep breath, and turned toward the water basin.

She fished out a second fish.

This time, she changed her strategy.

She couldn't use her palm; she had to use a knife.

Bibi Dong grabbed a sharp kitchen knife.

This hand, accustomed to gripping the supreme scepter and the scythe that reaped lives, now had to be used for the delicate work of scaling and deboning.

Although she had been cooking for a few days, she still wasn't used to it.

The blade descended.

The force was too heavy again.

"Sshhh."

The blade sliced directly through the fish bone, causing Bibi Dong to frown and forcibly twist her wrist.

One cut, two cuts, three cuts.

After a few teeth-grinding scraping sounds, the fish slices—which should have been uniform in thickness and crystal clear—were crudely scraped into a pile of fine, minced fish meat under the Limit Douluo's uncontrollable "micro-manipulation."

The second fish was declared a failure once again.

Time ticked away, second by second.

After struggling for a full two hours, six carp lay dead in a miserable state on the floor of the Imperial Kitchen.

It wasn't until the sky began to brighten that a sweat-drenched Bibi Dong managed to keep the seventh fish "intact," tossing it into the black iron cauldron beside her.

Then came the stewing phase.

The firewood was extremely unstable, the flames flickering in and out, and the broth in the pot refused to boil.

In her mind, the countdown for the system task had entered the final red alert zone.

Impatience, exhaustion, and the fishy stench that she couldn't wash off caused Bibi Dong's patience to completely run dry.

She glared at the lifeless bottom of the pot and steeled her heart.

To hell with the prohibition against relying on Soul Power!

Bibi Dong slightly curled the index finger of her right hand and, with extreme stealth, extended a wisp of purple-black Rakshasa Soul Power, faint to the point of near-nothingness, pointing it directly at the firewood at the bottom of the stove.

She intended to forcibly catalyze the heat.

Rakshasa Death Qi was one of the most extreme destructive forces in heaven and earth.

The moment that wisp of Soul Power touched the ordinary iron cauldron:

"Bang!"

A sound ten times more violent than before exploded outward!

The bottom of the refined steel pot could not withstand the extreme high temperature of the Rakshasa divine power and was instantly burned through, leaving a hole the size of a human head.

The boiling broth poured down like a waterfall, dousing the burning stove fire directly.

"Sizzle~"

A massive plume of thick white smoke billowed up, instantly swallowing the entire stove.

Outside the courtyard gate.

Angela could no longer hold back; that loud bang and the thick smoke spilling from the cracks in the door completely shattered her psychological defenses.

"Clang!"

With her long sword unsheathed, Angela lunged toward the gate, her voice shrill: "Your Excellency! Have you been attacked?!"

Before the words had even faded.

From inside the room came Bibi Dong's extremely disheveled and utterly furious roar:

"Get out!"

The voice was laced with the pressure of Rakshasa Soul Power, shaking Angela until her blood surged; she retreated three steps and fell hard onto the ground.

She trembled as she looked at the smoke-billowing Imperial Kitchen, not daring to ask another word.

Angela's mind raced with frantic speculation: The Pope cleared the area in the dead of night and caused such a commotion—she must be secretly refining some peerless poison capable of slaughtering a city!

Yes, that must be it!

Inside the room.

Bibi Dong was covered in soot and dust, standing in the thick smoke, staring at the broken, leaking pot.

Her bottom line had been breached.

The sky was barely light.

A hint of gray-white appeared on the horizon of Martial Soul City.

Outside the Library Pavilion, Bibi Dong stood before the dilapidated wooden door, which was covered in nailed-down planks, carrying a food box.

She was in a terrible state; there were bloodshot veins in her eyes, and the cold, chilling fragrance that usually clung to her was completely masked by the stench of fish and smoke.

The bandage on her left index finger was slightly wrinkled from being soaked in water.

The sense of shame and guilt in her heart had reached the highest peak of her life.

Inside the food box was half a bowl of leftover soup she had managed to salvage from the edge of the broken pot.

Finally, under the "death-urge" of the system's countdown hitting the final ten seconds, Bibi Dong steeled herself, raised her hand, and pushed open the wooden door.

"Creak."

Su Chen was already sitting beside the tea table.

Bibi Dong strode over, her movements stiff.

She opened the food box and took out the rough porcelain bowl.

"Bang."

The bowl was slammed onto the coffee table in front of Su Chen with such force that the liquid inside nearly splashed out.

Bibi Dong turned her head away, her gaze fixed firmly on the gaps between the floor tiles, not daring to look at the appearance of the concoction.

It was a bowl of "fish soup" that possessed an eerie, murky hue; the fish meat had been pulverized into a rice-paste consistency, with a few suspicious black specks of ash floating on the surface.

The presentation was comparable to a lethal poison.

"Drink it." Bibi Dong's voice was cold and rapid, laced with the guilty conscience of someone who had given up on trying.

Su Chen lowered his head to look at the contents of the bowl.

On the light screen of the Eye of Omniscience, he had seen every accident that had just occurred with perfect clarity.

This bowl of soup was filled with the breakdown and compromise of that Limit Douluo.

He did not hesitate in the slightest.

Su Chen didn't even pick up a spoon; he reached out with both hands and lifted the rough porcelain bowl directly.

Bibi Dong caught his movement in her peripheral vision; her fingers tightened abruptly, and her heart skipped a beat.

He didn't even ask a single question? Is he not afraid it's poisoned?

Su Chen tilted his head back.

"Gulp, gulp."

The sound of him swallowing in large mouthfuls echoed through the quiet Library Pavilion, showing not a hint of disgust, nor a single furrow of his brow.

This posture of defenseless acceptance struck like a heavy hammer against the taut, strained strings of Bibi Dong's heart.

Su Chen drank the murky liquid in the bowl clean in one breath.

He even extended his tongue to lap up the remaining bits of fish residue at the bottom of the bowl.

Bibi Dong turned her head to look at the empty bowl, a sense of extreme, surreal bitterness and immense shock welling up in her eyes.

Her throat tightened, and she couldn't utter a single word.

Su Chen gently set the empty bowl down.

He did not roll off his chair to kowtow in gratitude as he usually did, nor did he display his typical appearance of fearful, trembling subservience.

He simply raised his head, his gaze crossing the coffee table to look directly into Bibi Dong's eyes.

His expression was calm and earnest.

There was not a shred of pretense.

"Your Excellency." Su Chen's voice was soft, yet every word was clear as it hung in the air, "This is the freshest soup this subordinate has ever tasted in his life."

This sincere evaluation, devoid of any affectation, was like a precision-guided arrow that pierced straight through the final layer of the psychological defenses Bibi Dong had constructed with her cold facade.

In her mind, she could no longer hear the system's notification that the mission was complete.

Bibi Dong only felt a wave of heat in her chest.

That warmth climbed up along her neck, and her fair earlobes were visibly stained with a striking, crimson flush.

For the first time in front of a man, she felt completely at a loss.

She said nothing.

She abruptly reached out to grab the empty bowl from the coffee table and shoved it haphazardly into the food box.

She turned around.

Her footsteps were chaotic, even slightly stumbling.

Carrying the food box, Bibi Dong rushed out of the Library Pavilion in what was practically a flight for escape.