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The elderly men and women at Lakeside Park saw the scene and frowned even more deeply with worry. They looked anxiously at Huo Jiu. Then they froze.

The handsome young man held a cleaver, his full attention fixed on the soft tofu atop the cutting board. He leaned slightly forward, using the index finger of his left hand to lightly brace the back of the blade while his right wrist trembled gently. The cleaver rose and fell so quickly that it nearly left afterimages.

Just as First-Rank Pavilion's head chef finished slicing, Huo Jiu used his cleaver to push the sliced tofu to one side and began cutting it into shreds. As though he had already adapted to the cleaver's weight and feel, he shredded the tofu even faster than he had sliced it. In the blink of an eye, he had finished, placed the tofu shreds in clear water, and gently shaken them apart with chopsticks.

In an instant, the snowy-white tofu shreds bloomed in the water like a chrysanthemum, swirling into delicate, soft strands. The sight was as beautiful as a painting.

For the sake of fairness, the young man and First-Rank Pavilion's head chef had begun at the referee's signal. Now, Huo Jiu had already loosened the tofu shreds in water and was preparing to julienne the mushrooms, winter bamboo shoots, black fungus, chicken breast, ham, and greens. First-Rank Pavilion's head chef, meanwhile, had only just finished shredding his tofu and was preparing to place it in water.

The stark difference in speed made the diners gasp. In a knife skills contest, speed was not what mattered most; steadiness and finer cuts were. Yet Huo Jiu, at such a young age, was faster than First-Rank Pavilion's head chef, who had more than twenty years of experience. That alone gave everyone plenty to think about.

"Impossible! How could he be moving that fast? He's several seconds faster than First-Rank Pavilion's chef!" The crowd scratched their heads, racking their brains.

"It's the water! He didn't pour water over the tofu while shredding it!" someone suddenly cried in realization.

Everyone knew that water tofu was tender and soft. If the shreds were cut too fine, they could easily stick together and break. To keep them from snapping, many chefs poured water over the tofu while cutting it into shreds.

But Huo Jiu moved too quickly. Before the soft tofu shreds could stick together, he had already tossed them into clear water to separate.

Because he did not need to sprinkle water over them, he was several seconds faster than First-Rank Pavilion's chef.

Diwu Ling sat at the judges' table, watching Huo Jiu's movements with fascinated interest.

At that moment, one of the elderly men and women from Lakeside Park suddenly exclaimed, "Hey! Look! Aren't Little Huo's tofu shreds thinner than that chef's?"

Hearing that, everyone looked closely. Sure enough, they saw the difference.

First-Rank Pavilion's head chef had also placed his shredded tofu in clear water to separate it. Once it spread apart, the gap became obvious. Master Yan's tofu shreds were also extremely fine, about as thin as strands of hair. They bloomed in the water like a chrysanthemum, elegant and refined.

But Huo Jiu's tofu shreds were even finer than First-Rank Pavilion's chef's. If they had to describe it, the difference was like a strand of hair compared with a cat hair.

After that comparison, First-Rank Pavilion's entire dining hall erupted.

"It's actually true!"

"This kid's knife skills are better than Master Yan's!"

"No way! How old is this kid? He doesn't even look older than my grandson!"

"Whose child is he? Why have we never heard of him?"

Many of First-Rank Pavilion's regulars considered themselves discerning gourmets. They had heard of famous chefs not only from the city, but from all over the country. Huo Jiu was so young, yet his knife skills were superb and his palate so sharp. He had to have been carefully trained by some culinary family. But none of them had ever heard of him.

"His surname is Huo? Which famous chef in the country is named Huo?"

"There's a master of Lu cuisine named Huo, but Master Huo is already sixty-six. I've never heard of him having a younger relative this age. Besides, with Master Huo's personality, he posts on social media whenever he cooks a dish. If he'd really taken in such a promising disciple, he would've been showing him off ages ago."

The diners discussed it animatedly.

The elderly men and women from Lakeside Park listened for a while without understanding and could not help whispering among themselves. "What are they talking about?"

"Sounds like some famous chef in the country whose surname is Huo. Have you heard of him...?"

"No. I only know one famous person named Huo. Huo Yuanjia."

"Then I know more than you. I also know Huo Dongge!"

Hearing this, First-Rank Pavilion's head chef glanced at Huo Jiu's stove, then looked away.

On Huo Jiu's side, he had swiftly cut the winter bamboo shoots, mushrooms, black fungus, chicken breast, ham, and greens into shreds. He had also blanched the winter bamboo shoot shreds, black fungus shreds, and mushroom shreds. Then he poured clear chicken broth into the wok. Once it came to a boil over high heat, he added the winter bamboo shoot shreds, black fungus shreds, mushroom shreds, chicken shreds, and ham shreds in sequence. He turned down the heat, added a little salt, then, after seasoning it, thickened it with a thin layer of starch slurry and sprinkled in the tofu shreds.

Thickening the soup was a technical skill in itself. Too much starch slurry would not do, because the tender, delicate tofu shreds would clump together and refuse to separate. But if it was too thin, the broth would lose its smooth, velvety texture. Once served, the soup would also lack its glossy clarity. A little too much or a little too little would not work.

That was the heat control Huaiyang cuisine demanded.

At this point, Huo Jiu did not forget to glance at First-Rank Pavilion's head chef and say teasingly, "Now we're at the part you're best at."

The fake shark fin soup he had just eaten had used old broth thickened with starch to pass off an imitation as the real thing. Huo Jiu was clearly mocking First-Rank Pavilion's head chef. Already a step behind, Master Yan could only smile bitterly.

He really held a grudge.

Diwu Ling, seated at the judges' table, still wore a stern, expressionless face, but a flash of satisfaction passed quickly through his eyes. First-Rank Pavilion's chefs prided themselves on their culinary skills, yet they had fooled customers with fake shark fin. As a diner, Diwu Ling naturally shared Huo Jiu's indignation. His gaze toward Master Yan became even colder and more displeased.