The Chef's Trial

It had been a week since the Whispered Shadows Festival had come and gone. Chen Jiawei had never truly participated in the festival, at least not in any formal sense. He didn't possess memories of a past life, the kind that others seemed to whisper about during those nights.

Once, he had awoken in the middle of an empty field in the Shadow Realm, his mind a blank slate. No name, no history, no family—just a single memory so peculiar and out of place it almost felt like a joke. He remembered noodles. Dark, spiced, savory noodles, the kind he now sold from his small stall on the edge of the realm.

He had called them Shadow Fried Noodles, a name that felt both absurd and oddly fitting. Why this memory of all things? Why noodles, of all the countless moments that might have defined a life? He didn't know, and the questions had long stopped bothering him.

Without a past, there were no secrets for Jiawei to offer to the shadows. Without family, there was no one in the afterlife who would listen, even if he had secrets worth sharing. The festival, for him, was simply just another night.

Well, perhaps not just another night. It was busier than most, with the streets alive with whispers and wandering souls. And his noodles—his absurd, mysterious noodles—always sold better on those nights.

To Jiawei, that was all the festival was: a noisy evening that brought a little extra coin. Nothing more, nothing less.

This time, however, was different. After selling out every last bowl of his Shadow Fried Noodles, Jiawei hurried back to his small, unassuming home. As he pushed open the door, he froze.

There, hovering in the center of his dimly lit room, was an envelope. It floated midair, supported by a delicate swirl of glittering energy that danced and shimmered around it, casting soft, radiant light across the walls. The envelope itself seemed almost alive, its edges glowing faintly, giving it an otherworldly elegance.

Who would have guessed that the envelope Jiawei reached for in that moment contained an invitation to The Chef's Trial?

Inside, the message was inscribed in bold, meticulous lettering, as though the very paper bore the weight of its importance:

To Chen Jiawei,

You are invited to participate in the most esteemed culinary competition spanning all realms: The Chef's Trial. Your unique creations have captured the interest of forces far beyond this realm. Now is your chance to prove your mettle, your passion, and your creativity in the grandest kitchen of them all.

To confirm your participation, simply sign your name below. Once the ink dries, your journey begins.

Good luck, Chef. The trials await you.

Beneath the letter, a faintly glowing line awaited his signature, pulsing gently as if urging him forward.

Jiawei had never thought of himself as a chef. Sure, he cooked to make a living, but his stall offered just one dish—the only one he could remember since waking up from that memoryless haze in the empty field.

Yes, he cooked for himself daily. But so what? His meals were simple, unremarkable, the kind of food anyone could throw together without much thought.

He furrowed his brow, puzzled by the invitation. "Why me?" he muttered under his breath, the words heavy with genuine confusion.

The truth was, Jiawei had been living on autopilot for as long as he could remember—moving through each day with no clear purpose, simply because he didn't know what lay beyond life. And wasn't that enough reason to keep going? The unknown had a way of grounding you to the mundane.

He had no family, no friends, no hobbies, no one he loved or cared for. There was nothing to make him sad, but nothing to make him happy either.

The closest he came to feeling an emotion were the fleeting interactions he had with his customers. A brief exchange of words, a passing smile, a compliment on his noodles—those moments were like faint ripples on an otherwise still pond. Not much, but just enough to remind him that he still existed.

Everyone knows what this invitation means. Realm Scouting. It's one of the ways The Chef's Trial gathers talented participants who meet its unique, mysterious criteria. No one knows exactly what those criteria are. But not many are lucky enough to receive a Realm Scouting invitation.

For some, getting this invitation is a dream come true. After all, those who receive the Realm Scouting get to bypass the first round and watch the fierce competition unfold, observing their potential rivals one by one.

And there's more—while others are busy preparing for the first round, they get to relax. Where? At the largest, most luxurious hotel in The Cloud Palace, no less.

The Cloud Palace alone is known as one of the largest realms, and was well-known for its beauty and prosperity. Its reputation wasn't just built on size, but on the quiet elegance that defined it—its striking landscapes, its wealth, and it's almost unreachable allure.

Legends and old stories of The Cloud Palace, once a part of the singular realm known as The Cloud Realm, painted it as a place of unimaginable splendor. People dreamed of it, longed to walk its soil, even if just for a moment, to witness its wonders with their own eyes. The privilege of stepping inside felt like a rare blessing, something few could ever claim.

The Cloud Palace itself is already a sight of unmatched luxury, so the hotel? It had to be something else entirely. With its lavishness and sophistication, it was a place that tempted even the most indifferent of hearts. Jiawei couldn't help but be drawn to it, curious to experience it for himself, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Jiawei knows the competition is deadly, a game where only the strongest survive. But what was wrong with dying? What difference did it make? He had spent so long living in numbness, disconnected from everything, that sometimes it felt like he's already dead.

Maybe, just maybe, this competition could be his chance to reclaim what was lost—his memories, his feelings, his life. Maybe by risking it all, he would finally feel something real again.

Without hesitation, his hand moved, and with a single stroke of the pen, Jiawei sealed his fate.