Dragons? Born without taste buds, a tasteless race—even the Dragon King. To make them taste food, you need [Seasoning] MAX or [Cooking] MAX.
[Seasoning] MAX tweaks food attributes, adding special effects to let dragons taste. [Cooking] MAX brute-forces top-tier dishes, ignoring debuffs, healing, boosting EXP, stacking buffs, you name it.
But these skills? Hard to max. [Cooking] needs endless time and practice—short-lived races can’t do it. Top chefs hit LV9, but LV10 (MAX) is a distant dream. [Seasoning] is worse—hard to even trigger, let alone level. The best seasoner alive? LV6.
If Filo remembers right, when she checked [Cooking] MAX, her skill panel had a ton of MAX skills… including [Seasoning] MAX.
Original Filo, your salted-fish game is too strong. Future Salted-Fish King bows to you! (For now.)
Filo eyed the Dragon King, who looked ready to faint, face flushed like she was still in ecstasy mode. Filo grabbed her to steady her.
No reaction.
Filo frowned, lightly smacking her flushed cheeks. Slap! Slap! Slap!
Still nothing.
Damn, another foodie—worse than the others. No choice—drag her inside.
Heave-ho! Filo spun her around, locked her arms, and hauled her into the house.
The four inside hadn’t clocked the situation’s severity. They turned, watching Filo’s return. Their faces shifted like a meme montage:
😄😄 → 😊 → 😳❓ → 😱 → 😵!!!
Dad, who’d taken the Dragon King’s deadly chop years ago, was extra spooked, sensing her aura clearest. Even in ecstasy mode, her presence was terrifying. Filo’s vibe had masked it earlier, but up close? Crystal clear.
Wait, don’t kings vibe with each other? Why didn’t Filo sense her? Easy—she doesn’t see the Dragon King as a threat. A few hours ago, she crushed her like it was nothing.
If the Dragon King knew Filo’s subconscious didn’t even register her as a rival, how’d she feel? She’s held a grudge for 5,000 years, failed her revenge, and still wants a rematch.
She sees Filo as her lifelong nemesis. Filo? Sees her as air.
Filo plopped her in her seat. The Dragon King’s dazed eyes locked onto Filo’s dish. Another food thief!
Gods, why me? Wait, no gods here—probably that goddess pulling strings.
The more Filo learned about this body’s power, the more she got why the goddess gave it to her. She’s no Spider-Man with “great power, great responsibility,” but in this world, power attracts trouble—unless she swaps Salted-Fish King for Cold-Blooded King.
Filo sighed, setting her half-eaten dish down. The Dragon King snapped to life like she ate a Snickers, grabbing chopsticks and diving in.
The others drooled but didn’t dare snatch food from her. She’s the Dragon King!
Filo facepalmed. This Food Wars! vibe—what’s next? Not Cooking Master Boy or Magical Chef of Ice and Fire! Her cooking could tame Ultimate Beings! (Well, just this one.)
Arms crossed, Filo eyed the satisfied Dragon King. “Feeling good? So, why’re you here? Not for Bingpo and Chiyan’s family, right? You’re an Ultimate Being—gotta have some class.”
Bingpo nearly roasted: Master, you live in the boonies with basic furniture and no servants—class? But yeah, the Dragon King wasn’t here for them. They’re dragon elites, but not worth her personal visit.
Her target? Filo.
“Ahem, it’s you! Listen up—you only won once. Don’t think you’re stronger!” the Dragon King huffed.
“Mm,” Filo mumbled.
“So, fight me again! I won’t lose this time!” She pointed dramatically, taking a deep breath.
“Nah.” Filo’s salted-fish eyes stared back.
“Right, so—huh?! No? Why?! Fight me!” Her voice hit new octaves, stunned.
Filo propped an arm on the table, resting her cheek. “Why? Simple—you’re pretty weak, huh.”
The Dragon King froze. Filo’s words echoed like a cursed chant: Pretty weak, huh… pretty weak, huh… pretty weak…
“I’M WEAK?!” she roared.