The Emperor's Imperial Kitchen

Zhang Ling gently pushed the gate of the courtyard, only to find it locked from the outside. That was a complete lack of trust. Originally, Zhang Ling had intended to give them some face and hop over the wall if someone were guarding it, but since they didn't trust him, he wouldn't bother with courtesies either. Zhang Ling raised a foot and kicked the gate until it was smashed to pieces.

Zhang Ling looked left and right, recalling the palace map he had studied. To the east of this small courtyard was the Jin'an Hall, where the officials gathered; to the north lay the inner palace where the concubines resided. Neither was a place he could visit.

Shifting his weight, Zhang Ling suddenly remembered that the Imperial Kitchen was to the west. At this hour, the imperial chefs should be preparing pastries to be presented to the Emperor after the morning court session. Since he had come to the palace early in the morning without eating, he decided to take this opportunity to have a meal.

An hour later, a stout man in a chef’s tunic entered the kitchen, rummaging through the stoves, but he couldn't find the plates of prepared pastries. In a panic, he turned to a rotund man, even more plump than himself, and shouted, "Zhao Jiuan, did you steal them? Those were meant for His Majesty! You really have a lot of nerve, kid."

Little Zhao Jiuan waved his hands in a fluster, terrified. "Chef Liu, it wasn't me! I don't know where they went either."

The man over forty, known as Liu Shi, the Chief of the Imperial Kitchen, grabbed the little man by his collar and demanded, "You were the only one in the kitchen just now. If it wasn't you, then who? Or are you saying I forgot to make them?"

The little fellow grew even more anxious. "I really don't know! They were here just a moment ago. I only turned around for a second, and they were gone."

Just as Chef Liu was about to strike him, the two suddenly heard a clear, satisfied burp. They looked up toward the rafters and saw a young man sitting there, patting his stomach. He flipped down and handed the empty plates to Liu Shi.

It was Zhang Ling, who had come to the Emperor's kitchen for a meal. However, he had changed into a different tunic and was wearing a human-skin mask. This one made him look a few years older and less delicate than his original appearance, though still remarkably handsome. Wu Zhi had once told him that the better-looking the mask, the lower its quality; an ordinary person’s face was usually full of wrinkles and lines, which made one look unremarkable. Masks of the elderly were especially difficult to craft and could even mask one's original aura. Zhang Ling hadn't needed such high-quality gear because of his "Fuyao" lightness skill, but he had originally wanted a few ordinary masks so as not to be too conspicuous. In the end, he had spent a thousand taels for this one, and he didn't want to waste it, planning to use it in his future travels through the martial world.

Zhang Ling cleared his throat and patted his chest, pushing his luck. "Do you have any water? This stuff is too dry; it's choking me."

The two chefs were still in a daze, but Liu Shi instantly snapped back to reality. He looked at the plump man in his hands, slammed his palm onto the stove, and demanded, "You ate them?"

Zhang Ling nodded, ignoring him, and went to fetch a bowl to ladle out some chicken soup to wash it down. Unfortunately, it had been cooked the day before and was stone cold, lacking freshness. Once his chest felt comfortable, Zhang Ling looked back at the two fat men and smiled. "Oh, don't be so stingy. It's just a few plates of pastries. How about I give you some silver, and you make a few more?"

Chef Liu was furious. "You, you, you! You have a death wish! These were prepared for His Majesty. Do you know how complex the process is? Every single item requires the ingredients to be prepared a day in advance—you can't just make them on a whim! Now look, you've eaten them, what are we supposed to do? If things go wrong, I'll lose my job as an imperial chef!"

Zhang Ling patted his shoulder and laughed softly. "Relax. Your Emperor isn't that stingy. Besides, he’s a martial artist, isn't he? Never mind a few plates of pastries—even if he went hungry for a few days, he wouldn't die."

Chef Liu’s attitude suddenly shifted. He stopped protesting Zhang Ling's disparaging remarks about the Emperor and, hearing that the youth had actually met the Son of Heaven, asked in a conciliatory tone, "Might I ask who you are, young master?"

Zhang Ling thought for a moment and chuckled. "Just a scholar, though I suspect I'll have an official title by the end of the day."

Chef Liu felt baffled and was about to ask for his name when he felt the stranger reach out and tap them both on the forehead. They instinctively closed their eyes, but when they opened them again, the young man had already vanished. Chef Liu asked the little man, "Where is he?"

Zhao Jiuan shook his head. "I don't know either. He disappeared in the blink of an eye."

The two turned and looked around, rushing out of the kitchen, but no matter how fast two men who had never practiced martial arts could run, they were no match for Zhang Ling, who relied on his lightness skills to make his escapes. Over time, they simply became familiar with the sight of his retreating back.

Zhang Ling strolled leisurely along the willow-lined lake, counting the time until his departure. Suddenly, he saw four people approaching from the distance. The two in front were a man and a woman; the man wore a crown and robes with clear, intricate dark patterns, while the woman was dressed in elegant, fragrant attire, though her accessories were relatively simple. Her gait was dignified, her appearance charming, and her every glance carried a allure that was only a shade inferior to the legendary beauties of the age. They were followed by a eunuch and a maid, indicating their high status.

Zhang Ling gave them a cursory glance and moved to walk around them, but the young man suddenly shouted, "You, stop right there!"

Zhang Ling turned sideways and looked at him, asking softly, "Something the matter?"

The young man said indignantly, "How dare you not salute when you see this prince?"

Zhang Ling looked the man up and down, observing his dissolute behavior, and pondered for a moment. "I've met the Crown Prince, and the First Prince is at the border—plus, he practices martial arts, so he should have a sturdy physique. So, you must be the good-for-nothing Fourth Prince, Chen Zuliang. And this lady beside you should be Princess Peijin, Chen Yueying, right?"

Princess Peijin was curious to see that this young man remained so composed and neither humble nor arrogant in the presence of royalty. Just as she was about to speak, Chen Zuliang snapped angrily, "How dare you call me a good-for-nothing! Xiao Yuzi, beat him up!"

The eunuch behind him stepped forward and threw a punch. It was a straight, forceful strike—he was a martial practitioner of sorts, though it was clear he hadn't even reached the lowest rank. Zhang Ling reached out, grabbed his fist, and with a flick, tossed him onto the grass nearby.

Zhang Ling looked at him and said, "You’re just following orders, suffering because you chose the wrong master, so I won't throw you into the lake. But honestly, you’re a pathetic prince—you don't even have a single high-ranking expert by your side."

Chen Zuliang felt humiliated and grew even more furious. He pointed at Zhang Ling and roared, "You dare fight back? If you don't kneel and kowtow to apologize to me today, believe me, you won't make it out of this palace alive!"

Zhang Ling laughed with disdain. "Even your father didn't make me kneel; what makes you think you're worthy?"

Zhang Ling grabbed Chen Zuliang’s finger and twisted it, forcing him to his knees in agony. He cursed, "You piece of trash, born of a mother but raised without a father's guidance! You have guts, not only attacking me but daring to be disrespectful to the Emperor."

Zhang Ling’s face darkened. He stepped onto Chen Zuliang’s back, pinning him to the ground, and applied more pressure to his finger, causing him to wail in pain, "It hurts, it hurts! Let go!"

Zhang Ling didn't let go; instead, he pressed harder. "Kowtow and apologize to my parents, or I swear I'll cripple you."