Chapter 34: Ruined—My Wife Is Gone Because of My Own Doing

"Master, Senior Brother, Senior Sister, good morning!"
After greeting them, he eagerly rushed to the dining table.
But as soon as he saw the long, stick-like objects, he froze, clearly unfamiliar with them.
"What is this? Shouldn't breakfast be steamed buns? Where are the buns?"
He mumbled in confusion.
No one paid him any attention, as everyone else had already started eating.
Although Zhou Jingpeng and his daughter often ate these before, they understood well that these were far more delicious than steamed buns.
Father and daughter were already digging in.
As for Xiao Yang, he hadn’t had such food for nearly ten years.
Naturally, he wasn’t going to hold back.
"Master, what is this?"
Ignored.
"Senior Sister... Senior Brother?"
Still ignored.
Feeling frustrated, Meng Changsheng eyed the greasy fried dough sticks with some resistance in his heart.
But his stomach was already growling, so he gritted his teeth and picked one up to eat.
Crunch!
The crispy outer layer and soft, tender inside instantly brightened Meng Changsheng’s eyes.
He soon began devouring them in large bites.
He even tried dipping the dough stick in porridge, nearly biting his tongue off.
He had only ever chewed on steamed buns for breakfast before, never anything so sumptuous.
"Mmm! What a heavenly flavor, so delicious."
For some reason, he was moved to tears as he ate.
Very quickly, over ten fried dough sticks disappeared.
But Meng Changsheng licked his lips, clearly unsatisfied.
He pleaded with Zhou Yan,
"Senior Sister, I’m still hungry. Could you give me some more?"
Yet he received a merciless reply.
"There’s none left."
If there truly was none, he’d have to accept it, but soon Zhou Yan returned with a fresh plate of fried dough sticks, handing them directly to Xiao Yang.
"Senior Brother, I keep telling you, my cooking skills are amazing now. I can definitely be the head chef."
Xiao Yang helplessly picked up a fried dough stick, chewing thoughtfully.
Honestly, this girl’s fried dough sticks were really well made—crispy outside, tender inside, very tasty.
But a certain gaze had already locked onto him.
If he agreed, a certain middle-aged man would likely come after him with a sword.
After all, Zhou Yan’s talent wasn’t poor, and was even stronger than Meng Changsheng’s.
The only reason she was still at Martial Warrior level was because years ago, Xiao Yang boasted and taught her how to cook.
Ever since then, she’d become obsessed, constantly experimenting in the kitchen.
Her cultivation was delayed, and Xiao Yang was harshly reprimanded for it.
If he really let Zhou Yan take on the chef’s role this time, he was sure next year’s anniversary would be his own memorial day.
"It’s alright, the taste is average. In a big city like Northern Desert City, I’d probably lose money," Xiao Yang said against his conscience.
Immediately, Zhou Yan’s head drooped, visibly disappointed.

Xiao Yang felt a pang of guilt and added,
"When you reach Martial Marquis, I’ll let you try."
Though it would be a long time, at least it gave her something to hope for.
If he’d said this before, it would’ve been fine—neither he nor Zhou Jingpeng wanted Zhou Yan to be a chef.
But now there was a newcomer, clueless about the situation.
Hearing his delicious breakfast maligned, Meng Changsheng protested,
"You’re wrong! Senior Sister Yan’s cooking is a rare delicacy, even in Northern Desert City it would be a treasure!"
Immediately, two murderous glares shot his way.
Meng Changsheng shivered, shrinking his neck.
"Did I say something wrong?" he muttered.
Almost simultaneously, a voice rang out,
"You two be careful on the road. Today I’m going to properly train our new disciple."
Zhou Jingpeng had already risen and returned to his room.
He soon emerged, this time carrying a giant sword.
Judging by its size, it weighed at least three to five hundred pounds.
He tossed it at Meng Changsheng’s feet and said coldly,
"No internal energy allowed. Swing the sword ten thousand times."
Meng Changsheng picked up the giant sword, his body trembling.
It weighed at least three hundred pounds—if he really swung it ten thousand times, he’d be crippled.
"Master, this is too hard. I’m still young; I need to proceed steadily."
This earned him a glare.
"If you’re not willing, then get out."
Recalling Meng Haotian’s words before he left, Meng Changsheng reluctantly picked up the giant sword and began swinging.
His speed, however, was pitiful.
Zhou Jingpeng spoke again,
"If you don’t reach ten thousand swings by tonight, you won’t eat."
At those words, Meng Changsheng’s pace noticeably quickened.
Xiao Yang watched with a gloating expression.
"Serves you right for running your mouth."
He knew Meng Changsheng wouldn’t have an easy time for a while.
"Master, we’ll be going then," he said, pulling his junior sister along.
Meng Changsheng watched longingly, wishing he could go too.
But under Zhou Jingpeng’s stern gaze, he continued swinging the sword.
Perhaps Zhou Jingpeng was truly angry this time; Zhou Yan walked in silence along the way.
"Sister, say something, won’t you?"
Even Xiao Yang felt a little nervous and had to take the initiative.
"Hmph!"
Zhou Yan snorted and turned away, refusing to respond.
"Sister, what’s so good about being a chef? Wouldn’t it be better to be a top powerhouse?"

Seeing a slight improvement, Xiao Yang didn’t dare delay, and earnestly tried to persuade her.
All of this was because of him.
If he hadn’t recreated food from his previous life back then, she wouldn’t have become so obsessed—insisting on being a chef.
He sighed inwardly, even feeling some regret for not teaching Meng Changsheng a lesson.
Why did he have to run his mouth and cause trouble?
Not only had he brought misfortune upon himself, he’d dragged Xiao Yang into it as well.
Now look at her, so angry she’d ignored him all morning.
He knew what Zhou Yan wanted, but Xiao Yang truly dared not agree.
If he did, Zhou Jingpeng would really chase him with a sword.
"Ahem! So, what would it take for you to forgive me?"
But Zhou Yan seemed determined, refusing to reply.
When pushed, she just snorted coldly.
"Meng Changsheng, just wait and see,"
he thought viciously to himself, determined to teach the boy a lesson later.

On Spirit Sword Mountain, Meng Changsheng suddenly felt a chill run through him.
His hand shook, dropping the giant sword.
Zhou Jingpeng looked up and said calmly,
"Add one thousand."
"Master!"
"Add another thousand."
He’d wanted to explain, but those two sentences left Meng Changsheng utterly deflated.
He picked up the giant sword and continued swinging.
"Sister!"
Xiao Yang called out in a sweet, pleading tone.
Zhou Yan quickly dodged, even rubbing her arms as if she’d been hit by a cold wave.
"Damn! I’ve lost my wife with my own actions."
Xiao Yang wailed, hanging his head and falling silent, as if deeply wounded.
Zhou Yan, seeing this, secretly smiled.
"Serves you right for lying to me and denying my chef ambitions."
Though it was just a moment, Xiao Yang sensed it.
"This girl really holds grudges."
Knowing Zhou Yan was deliberately provoking him, Xiao Yang felt relieved.

Just then,
a chicken came running from the distance, followed by a shadow leopard demon.
"Cluck cluck!"
Chicken Tyrant crowed loudly, apparently having discovered something.
Soon, Xiao Yang saw a squad behind Chicken Tyrant—well equipped, clearly a professional team.