As the competition drew closer, Qin Feng saw Zhao Yonghe walking out with a man dressed in a chef’s uniform, wearing a mask and a baseball cap. This must be the chef participating in the match.

Shen Yan, upon seeing the chef, showed a hint of surprise and leaned over to whisper something into Shen Yuanshan’s ear.

After listening, Shen Yuanshan turned to Qin Feng and said, “That chef is Liu Ming, the current Chef King’s disciple. He’s likely been brought in as outside reinforcement. You’ll need to be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Old Master. Even if the Chef King himself showed up, I still wouldn’t lose.”

Qin Feng’s face brimmed with confidence. In his previous life, he had never feared anyone. Compared to that world, the culinary standards here weren’t even close.

Seeing Qin Feng so assured, Shen Yuanshan relaxed. Someone capable of creating a dish as refined as Boiled Cabbage would have no trouble defeating Liu Ming.

At that moment, Zhao Yonghe approached and said to Qin Feng, “Boss Qin, everything is ready now, and the match can begin. As for the judging criteria, each of us will select five tasters. Whoever scores higher will win.”

“No problem,” Qin Feng replied, standing up and carrying his knife kit to the stove.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the first round of competition is tofu. Please select your ingredients,” announced Zhao Yonghe, acting as the host.

Seeing Qin Feng pick out items like ham, lettuce, shiitake mushrooms, and winter bamboo shoots, while the other chef selected an enormous abalone, the difference in grandeur was clear. Qiao Lu couldn’t help but feel anxious on Qin Feng’s behalf.

Once the ingredients were chosen, Qin Feng opened his knife kit, revealing more than twenty knives shimmering with a silver glow.

Wow…
The crowd in the restaurant gasped. Even if they didn’t know much about Qin Feng’s skills, his professional setup was undeniably impressive.

Liu Ming glanced over and noticed Qin Feng had only picked vegetables. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. No matter how skilled he was, vegetables wouldn’t magically taste like abalone.

Qin Feng picked up a common kitchen knife, dipped it in water, and began cutting the tofu, his left thumb gently placed atop it. A crisp, rhythmic tack tack tack sound echoed through the air.

After slicing the tofu into thin slices, Qin Feng tilted it slightly with the knife and made another precise cut. The tofu shifted position under his blade, and the meticulous chopping continued.

The spectators couldn’t help but start murmuring.

“Is he smashing tofu?”
“That looks more like slicing… And isn’t tofu too soft to smash?”
“Is this guy really a chef? He’s practically shredding it. If he wanted it broken, why go to all this trouble?”

Ignoring the chatter, Qin Feng remained focused, his hands moving with precision and steadiness.

Before long, he finished cutting the tofu and placed it into a bowl of water. Instantly, the tofu threads spread out like fine hair, creating a misty, cloud-like pattern in the water, reminiscent of a traditional ink painting.

“This… This is incredible! How is it possible to slice tofu so finely, especially soft tofu?”

The audience gasped collectively, their curiosity and amazement almost driving them to rush forward.

Shen Yan stared at the fine threads of tofu in the water, dumbfounded. This was tofu that would crumble at the slightest touch, yet it had been sliced into hair-thin strands. It was an eye-opener.

“Bravo!”

Shen Yuanshan stood and applauded. Watching Qin Feng cook was pure enjoyment. His knife skills were astonishing, to say the least.

Hearing the crowd’s gasps, Liu Ming glanced over. When he saw the hair-thin tofu threads, it was like he’d been struck by lightning. Even his master couldn’t cut tofu into threads this delicate. This guy was no ordinary chef.

Qin Feng continued slicing other vegetables, all into similarly fine, threadlike strips. He was preparing the famed dish Wensi Tofu, a tofu soup renowned for its intricate knife work. The difficulty lay in cutting the soft tofu into threads; achieving this required at least a decade of knife mastery.

After prepping all the ingredients, Qin Feng poured them into a pot of boiling water. The cooking method for Wensi Tofu was straightforward since it was a soup dish.

Soon, Liu Ming also raised his hand, signaling that his dish was complete.

“Chefs, please introduce your dishes,” said Yao Hao, stepping forward as the adjudicator.

Liu Ming was the first to present his dish. “My dish is called Abalone Tofu. The tofu absorbs the abalone’s juices, transforming itself into an extension of the abalone.”

Yao Hao then turned to Qin Feng. “Boss Qin, your tofu soup is quite visually stunning. But the real question is—how did you cut the tofu into such fine threads?”

“This dish, Wensi Tofu, isn’t difficult to cook. The challenge lies in the knife work. It requires slicing eighty-eight horizontal cuts and one hundred and eighty-eight vertical cuts. That kind of precision demands exceptional knife skills. For most people, it’s nearly impossible.”

Qin Feng explained earnestly.

After the introductions, Zhao Yonghe casually picked five tasters—individuals he had prearranged.

Qin Feng, unfazed, chose Shen Yuanshan, Shen Yan, and Qiao Lu. They had come all this way to cheer him on, and he trusted them to be fair judges.

The ten selected tasters sat down and began sampling the dishes.

“This is delicious! Absolutely melts in your mouth. And these tofu threads—amazing!”
“This abalone is so tender! Truly a premium ingredient.”
“The tofu soaked in abalone sauce tastes just like abalone itself.”
“The Wensi Tofu is not only beautiful but also delicious. What a treat!”

Most of the tasters were devouring the dishes enthusiastically, the sound of chewing filling the room.

The only one savoring the food like a true connoisseur was Shen Yuanshan. After every bite, he would pause to contemplate.

Once everyone had eaten, Zhao Yonghe stood and addressed the tasters. “Everyone, you’ve had your fill. Now, please cast your votes. First up, you.”

“I think the Abalone Tofu was better. Its flavor lingers on the palate. My vote goes to Abalone Tofu.”
“I vote for Wensi Tofu.”
“Wensi Tofu gets my vote.”
“I choose Abalone Tofu.”

The votes tallied to a four-to-four tie, a neck-and-neck competition. Only Shen Yuanshan and one of Zhao Yonghe’s chosen tasters remained to vote.

Realizing this, Zhao Yonghe frowned slightly. He had thought victory was assured. Now, he felt it might come down to luck—either a win or a tie, but definitely not a loss.