Chef Qin Was a Martial Arts Prodigy

The sun rose, spilling golden light through the gaps in the branches and leaves. Qin Fen stood in the clearing. The moment he opened his eyes, he seemed to change. With his eyes closed, he had been like a fine sword; now, as he moved, he was a divine blade drawn from its sheath.

That look made every hair on Old Man Taiji's body stand on end, as if he were facing a tiger.

An aura? The old man froze. What the hell? Qin Fen was only in his early twenties. Usually, he seemed like a quiet boy next door. But now, towering waves had risen from that calm surface, turning him into something as terrifying as a raging flood.

A young man in his twenties had gathered such an aura in an instant. The old man wanted to curse himself and his peers for wasting their entire lives. An aura like that did not come easily. It took years of holding high office or wielding power over ordinary people's fates. That was how a leader could command respect without showing anger.

But Qin Fen was just a chef! The old men all knew that much. He had not even gone into business, and his little teahouse had yet to open. So what the hell was this?

The other old men sensed something unusual too and gathered around Old Man Taiji. "Old Sun, did Little Qin seem different just now?"

They had voiced their question, but Old Sun paid them no attention. He stared at the young man before him, dumbfounded.

He knew that was the aura unique to a martial artist. When someone cultivated martial arts to a certain level, their body brimmed with vitality and blood. In ancient times, that presence was called a murderous aura. Unlike the