Chapter 81: Trap

With [Cooking] MAX, whipping up a dish was stupidly easy.

Chopping? Tap the knife, done. Sauce ratios? Perfect every time—system says “top-tier.” Simmering? Filo shot a flame from her hand under the pot, and boom—dish done in five minutes.

Filo swiped her forehead for show, but no sweat to wipe. Too easy. Even a kid could do it. How bored was the original Filo to max this skill? Her skill panel was loaded with similar nonsense.

She wove blood threads into a floating stand, setting the big dish bowl on it. Filo strolled out, dish hovering. Five minutes total, and everyone was barely into their food.

“Ta-da! MAX-level gourmet dish, dig in~” Filo set the bowl down, its mouthwatering aroma flooding the living room.

“What a scent! Is this beyond master-level?” Bingpo sniffed, gulping hard. She grabbed chopsticks, snagged a meat slice, and chewed slowly.

Clack! Her chopsticks hit the floor. Tears streamed down her face. “Too delicious…”

“Delicious? Wait, no way!” Bingpo’s parents locked onto the dish, chopsticks flying.

The meat was silky, the aroma insane. They chewed slowly, and clack clack!—their chopsticks dropped too.

“Too delicious!” they cried, faces glowing with bliss. Filo, arms crossed, nodded smugly.

[Cooking] MAX’s special effect: [Transcendent Flavor]. It bypasses any taste debuffs, hitting taste buds with precision. For dragons, tasteless for millennia, this wasn’t just a hit—it was a nuke.

Filo watched them go feral, chopsticks frantically bouncing in the bowl, nearly stealing it. Chiyan, though, was clueless, blinking blankly. “Is it that good? Tons of EXP? Gimme a piece!”

Too late—prime angles were taken. After 30 seconds of struggling, Chiyan snagged a slice.

Nom nom… nom? NOM! Her body froze, chopsticks steady. Bingpo and her parents grinned. “Good, right?”

“Too… too… TOO GOOD!” Chiyan’s face flushed, flames bursting from her mouth. Orange fire wrapped her body, burning her clothes to ash. (Wait, aren’t those dragon scales? How do they burn?!)

Dad stared, gobsmacked. Mom frowned, whacking him with a diamond palm, wiping his memory clean.

SMACK! Dad… was out.

Filo, too, was K.O.’d—face red, hands covering her cheeks, but with sneaky gaps. She knew peeking was wrong, but… it’s not that kind of curiosity, just… pure curiosity!

She peeked through her fingers at Chiyan, scarfing the dish like a maniac. Wild. Too wild.

“…Kinda boring, actually.” Filo’s eyes went full salted-fish mode. She wanted Chiyan’s embarrassed face, not her… assets. Chiyan had zero shame.

But one thing was cool: Chiyan’s “clothes” (dragon scales) were regenerating. Burned to ash? Just a trick—super-fast regrowth. In seconds, she was dressed again, having demolished Filo’s dish.

Burp. “Master, I love you~ Burp.” Chiyan sprawled in her chair, patting her belly. Best meal of her dragon life. She was halfway to salted-fish enlightenment, but Filo wasn’t thrilled—one salted fish per crew is enough!

Filo closed her eyes, but felt four teary gazes. Bingpo, Chiyan, Mom, Dad (revived)—all staring, begging without words.

“Master, one more bowl, please?” Bingpo and Chiyan’s puppy eyes hit hard. Normally, Filo’d say no, but she wanted a taste too. She nodded. “Gimme ten minutes for a few more bowls.”

She headed to the kitchen, then froze. Good cooking = more cooking = chef duty = daily cooking = no salted-fish life?!

“Damn, I fell into a huge trap…”