Chapter 208: Tough Lucifer, Kirari Wants to Play
The realm of Chinese Cuisine was a vast, nearly unfathomable tapestry woven from history, culture, and geography. It boasted eight major regional cuisines, an endless myriad of minor local styles, and a dizzying array of street snacks and fermented drinks.
Their sheer numbers were as countless as the glittering stars in the night sky.
This staggering variety was precisely why so many arrogant travelers came to the country with preconceived notions of superiority, only to spend the rest of their lives entirely captivated, never managing to step foot outside even three provinces. To claim mastery over it all was a fool's errand.
Yet, among these countless regional specialties, there were ten legendary creations that stood at the absolute pinnacle of culinary artistry. Together, they formed a group with a brand-new, universally revered title: The Ten Famous Dishes.
It was a quiet, unspoken joke among chefs that if one dared to officially add the word "Great" to the title, it would undoubtedly attract the petty wrath of internet censors. But titles and semantics meant nothing in the face of true flavor.
What was truly remarkable about this legendary list was the inclusion of the seemingly humble West Lake Vinegar Fish.
[Akarin's Note: West Lake Vinegar Fish (Xihu Cuyu) is a renowned traditional dish from Hangzhou. It is famous for its strict cooking temperature requirements and its unique ability to simulate the taste of delicate crab meat using only fresh grass carp, black vinegar, and sugar, without any actual crab involved.]
Looking closely at these ten immortalized dishes, one would realize that each possessed its own wildly unique characteristics, regional flair, and preparation methods. However, despite their differences, they all shared one unbreakable, golden rule.
They never strayed from the pursuit of absolute 'freshness'.
Whether it was a rich and savory freshness, a subtly clean and delicate freshness, or a textural freshness that popped against the teeth, the core identity of the dish was forever bound to that single, defining concept. The West Lake Vinegar Fish, in particular, could easily be described as an almost absurdly simple creation.
For a freshwater fish, standard culinary logic dictated a myriad of complex cooking methods to mask the muddy river taste. It should normally be blanched in fragrant broth, boiled in chili oil, grilled over open charcoal, pan-fried until crispy, deep-fried for texture, or violently stir-fried with heavy aromatics.
But for a grass carp to simply be steamed whole was a bold, unapologetic statement of confidence.
It wasn't exactly uncommon to steam a fish, but for a dish to secure its spot among the legendary Ten Famous Dishes using nothing but a bamboo steamer and boiling water? That was an honor utterly unique to this specific recipe.
The preparation method for West Lake Vinegar Fish was elegant in its minimalism, and the required ingredients were so basic they bordered on austere. Aside from a flawlessly fresh, meticulously cleaned grass carp, the recipe demanded nothing more than a few stalks of crisp green onion and a few slices of sharp ginger.
There were no elaborate side dishes. There were no heavy, masking spices.
But it was precisely this stripped-down, brutally honest approach that allowed the dish to perfectly display the natural, unadulterated sweetness of the fish.
Behind the wooden counter of the otherworldly restaurant, Ren moved with practiced, hypnotic grace. He lifted the bamboo lid, releasing a billowing, fragrant cloud of white steam that instantly filled the warm air of the dining room.
The pre-cut grass carp lay perfectly cooked on the pristine white porcelain plate, its flesh flaking beautifully at the edges.
Then came the crowning stroke of culinary magic. Ren wielded a silver ladle, scooping up a thick, glistening mahogany-colored glaze. He poured the thickened sweet and sour sauce slowly from the head of the fish all the way down to its tail.
It was a mesmerizing sight. The viscous, fragrant sauce cascaded down from the lip of the spoon in a perfectly straight, unbroken line.
It landed heavily on the fish's body, clinging perfectly to the steamed skin. Then, slowly, drop by translucent ruby drop, strand by delicate strand, the excess glaze flowed downward, pooling elegantly against the stark white canvas of the serving plate.
It was simply beautiful. It was a visual masterpiece that aggressively enticed the senses.
The way the thick sauce draped over the fish seemed to defy gravity, flowing and yet remaining perfectly still in a gel-like embrace. At first glance, the sheer richness of the mahogany color made it incredibly hard to believe that the dish in front of them wasn't actually a heavy, long-simmered braise.
Was this glistening, ruby-red delicacy truly just a steamed fish?
The answer lay in the very first bite. The pristine white meat was astonishingly tender, melting against the tongue with a burst of natural river freshness.
The thick sauce immediately delivered a punchy, vibrant symphony of sweet and sour notes, carried by the unmistakable, clear aroma of aged black vinegar. Then came the magical, lingering aftertaste.
Beneath the tangy sweetness, there was a faint, savory richness that inexplicably mimicked the luxurious, highly prized flavor of fresh crab meat. It was an illusion of the palate, a trick of the ingredients—and undeniably the most magical part of the entire experience.
Gently picking up a delicate piece of the fish with a pair of bamboo chopsticks, one could admire the contrast. The outer skin was coated in that bright, reddish-amber hue, while the underside revealed the pristine, snowy-white fish fillet.
It constantly emitted a tantalizing fragrance, carried upward by the lingering wisps of steam.
The color was fiercely bright. The meat was impossibly fresh. The texture was as soft and delicate as silken tofu, practically dissolving upon contact.
That was the overwhelming, euphoric sensation that blossomed upon tasting it. You wouldn't even be able to comprehend why the humble grass carp in front of you suddenly tasted like the finest autumn crab, but perhaps that enigmatic flavor profile was exactly why it had earned its legendary status.
Just as Ren had explained earlier, this particular dish was far more artistic and refined compared to heavy, rustic comfort foods. It was a universally acknowledged truth that the bright, acidic notes made it an absolutely excellent choice to pair with alcohol.
Unfortunately, Azazel had specifically ordered a glass of heavily peated, aged whiskey on the rocks.
Because of the rich, smoky profile of the Governor General's chosen liquor, aggressively spicy dishes like authentic Sichuan Boiled Fish had to be temporarily forgone. The chili oil would have completely overpowered the complex oak and smoke of the alcohol.
Despite this minor culinary compromise, Azazel was in a state of absolute, unadulterated bliss.
The middle-aged Fallen Angel hadn't even touched the bowl of fluffy white rice set beside him. He simply sat there, his eyes half-closed in pure pleasure, continuously picking delicately at the flaking fish with his chopsticks.
It was a testament to Ren's skill. It definitively proved that the delicate West Lake Vinegar Fish perfectly withstood the intense, smoky attack of the premium whiskey, harmonizing with it rather than being washed away.
Azazel was naturally no ordinary being, and his alcohol tolerance was the stuff of legends. His drinking speed was comfortably methodical, easily described as two hearty sips per hefty glass of whiskey.
Sitting gracefully a few seats away at the polished wooden counter, Lucifer casually swirled a glass of crimson wine. She shot Azazel a cool, aristocratic side-eye.
She watched as the supposedly dignified Governor General of the Fallen Angels occasionally let out utterly undignified exclamations of culinary admiration. He would stuff a piece of fish into his mouth, take a long sip of his whiskey, and then smack his lips together with a loud, satisfied sigh.
Lucifer elegantly crossed her legs, the fabric of her impeccably tailored black business suit rustling softly. She couldn't help but feel a deep sense of secondhand embarrassment.
If this was the supreme leader of the Fallen Angels in another universe, she felt that the future of his entire faction was deeply, undeniably concerning.
However, Lucifer ultimately had very little interest in watching an old man gorge himself on seafood. She turned her attention away from the dining spectacle, leaning her upper body intimately across the smooth wood of the bar towards Ren.
A faint waft of her luxurious, subtle perfume reached him as she rested her chin on her hand. She looked up at him with a genuinely puzzled expression.
"You said Kirari got all excited earlier?" Lucifer asked, her crimson eyes blinking in confusion. "What exactly does that mean? Did Kirari do something unusual?"
Ren let out a soft, helpless chuckle as he wiped down a spotless section of the counter with a white towel.
"Kirari just finished dealing with her massive pile of school matters and student council paperwork," Ren explained casually. "Now that her schedule is finally clear, she wants to go out and blow off some steam. So, she called us to see if we wanted to join."
Lucifer's mouth twitched slightly, her sharp demonic features pulling into a pronounced frown.
After a long, heavy pause, she looked at Ren with an expression of deep, aristocratic resentment. She huffed softly, a lock of white hair falling perfectly over her forehead.
"What exactly is Kirari trying to do?" Lucifer complained, her tone dripping with genuine bewilderment. "Since when does 'playing' involve dragging yourself to a sweaty, noisy gym!"
Ren paused his cleaning, resting his hands on the counter as he thought for a moment. He eventually shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips, silently indicating that he didn't fully understand the eccentric gambler's logic either.
But no matter what, the brutal, underground Kengan Matches were coming up very soon.
Given the insane level of violence and martial arts prowess required for those fights, taking some time to practice and loosen up at the gym right now wouldn't be a bad idea. Though, realistically, Ren himself didn't really need to lift mundane iron weights to maintain his monstrous strength.
After struggling to process the concept for a few more seconds, Lucifer finally gave up. She shook her head aggressively, sending her pristine white hair swaying, entirely unable to comprehend Momobami Kirari's peculiar ideas of fun.
When it came to modern human leisure activities, Lucifer could honestly seem incredibly naive.
Of course, this specific brand of naivety solely referred to the fact that the regal CEO of Hell couldn't wrap her mind around Kirari's borderline masochistic desire to perform physical labor for entertainment.
"But speaking of which," Lucifer muttered, glancing down at her own perfectly manicured nails. "Human gym equipment probably can't even make me feel like I'm actually working out. It's all too fragile."
Ren paused his movements entirely. He looked at the dignified demon queen, an amused spark lighting up his dark eyes.
"Lucifer," Ren suggested smoothly, trying to hide a smirk. "If you want a challenge without breaking cast-iron plates, you could always try Yoga."
Lucifer blinked twice, tilting her head slightly like a confused bird. "Yoga? What in the world is that?"
The grand ruler of Hell clearly hadn't the faintest clue what the modern fitness trend entailed. Without missing a beat, she reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out her sleek, expensive smartphone.
She tapped rapidly on the screen, her crimson eyes scanning the search results.
A few moments passed in silence. Ren watched as a faint, almost imperceptible dusting of pink began to spread across the bridge of Lucifer's pale nose as she stared at images of women in skin-tight leggings contorting their bodies into impossible shapes.
Clearing her throat softly, Lucifer forcefully locked her phone screen and shoved it back into her pocket. She nodded with forced, regal composure.
"I see," Lucifer declared, her voice a pitch higher than usual. "It looks... completely acceptable."
"The internet says it can help release pent-up anger and stress. This is very suitable for me right now!"
Ren was genuinely startled by the sudden shift in her tone. He leaned forward, asking in total confusion, "Release anger? Lucifer, what possible anger do you have to release right now?"
Lucifer's cheeks puffed out immediately, her tsundere nature violently seizing control of her mouth. She glared at him irritably, her crimson eyes flashing with faux outrage.
"It's all your fault, you idiot!" Lucifer hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. "You make me angry every single day!"
"You constantly tease me and bully me! It's simply too much for a queen to bear!"
Ren just smiled warmly at her dramatic outburst. He simply shook his head affectionately, turning his gaze back toward the glowing screen of the television mounted on the wall to continue watching his movie.
Seeing that Ren wasn't going to offer an immediate, groveling apology, Lucifer let out a loud, highly exaggerated snort of indignation.
She leaned even further over the counter, intentionally invading his personal space as she practically vibrated with impatience. "Well?" she demanded petulantly. "Don't you have absolutely anything to say for yourself?"
Ren didn't take his eyes off the movie screen. "No."
Lucifer's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief at his bluntness. "Hmph! Fine!" she snapped, violently crossing her arms over her chest.
"Don't you dare talk to me until tomorrow morning! I mean it!"
Ren merely smiled to himself and remained perfectly silent.
Lucifer gritted her teeth so hard they audibly ground together. She glared at the side of Ren's handsome profile in profound annoyance, let out one final, huffy snort, and then threw herself back into her seat.
She rigidly turned her head to stare at the movie screen, forcing herself to sit obediently. She felt absolutely, one-hundred-percent certain that she could go an entire night without speaking a single word to Ren!
Absolutely certain! Probably!
Just a few feet away, entirely oblivious to the domestic romantic comedy playing out beside him, Azazel finally set down his bamboo chopsticks with a heavy thud.
The Governor General stared down at his porcelain plate. It was entirely devoid of any fish, any green onion, and miraculously, there wasn't a single drop of the thick ruby sauce left.
Azazel was genuinely stunned by his own gluttony. He sat there, wondering if he could ever experience a meal of this divine caliber back in his own universe.
That was right—not even the glaze had survived. As for where the rich, sweet-and-sour sauce had disappeared to, one only needed to look at the empty bowl of white rice sitting next to the plate.
A few stray streaks of mahogany sauce stained the inner rim of the ceramic bowl. Of course, Azazel hadn't just mindlessly mixed the sauce with the rice like a child.
He had carefully orchestrated the perfect bites, ultimately transforming the remains of the Ten Famous Dishes into a glorious, sauce-drenched rice bowl masterpiece.
Lifting his crystal tumbler, Azazel threw his head back and finished the very last sip of his aged whiskey. The large spherical ice cube in the glass hadn't even had enough time to melt much, a testament to how fast he had devoured the meal.
Azazel lowered the empty glass and let out a long, deeply contented sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.
"As expected of Lord Lucifer's chosen man," Azazel praised smoothly, a respectful smile gracing his bearded face. "His culinary skills are truly, terrifyingly amazing."
Ren finally turned his attention away from the pouty demon queen and smiled politely at his customer. "Thank you for the high compliment. It seems Mr. Azazel is in a very good mood right now."
Azazel chuckled heartily, leaning back comfortably against the barstool. "Of course I am! How could I not be?"
He gestured vaguely toward the glowing dimensional door that had brought him here. "I never in a million years expected that after a frustrating day of rarely catching any fish, I would casually stroll into an entirely Another World upon returning home. Let alone learn about the complex pantheons and deities of this new reality."
Azazel took a moment to glance over at Lucifer, who was still aggressively pretending to ignore Ren's existence.
"Although the appearance and demeanor of the Devil King in this world are vastly different from what I imagined," Azazel mused with a quiet chuckle, "it's still a wonderfully refreshing change of pace."
Ren smiled warmly, his voice carrying a quiet sense of pride. "Just as I told my little queen before, it should be a very proud thing for different worlds to possess their own unique interpretations of mythology and legends."
Azazel nodded slowly in deep agreement. However, a sudden, sharp look of analytical doubt flashed across his seasoned eyes as he surveyed the cozy interior of the restaurant.
"Speaking of unique rules," Azazel began, his tone shifting into something a bit more professional. "Why couldn't I detect absolutely anything within this space using my magic just now?"
As a master of arcane arts and Sacred Gears, Azazel's sensory magic was near omnipotent. Yet, when he tried to passively scan the tavern, his magical energy simply fizzled into a profound, suffocating void.
Ren calmly picked up a clean glass and began polishing it. "This place exists outside of conventional logic. It cannot be magically spied upon, magically traced, or physically destroyed."
He looked Azazel directly in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "So, Mr. Azazel, no matter how vast your magical reserves are, you simply cannot investigate the secrets of my Shop."
Azazel's eyes widened fractionally before he nodded in slow realization. He let out another heavy sigh, this one laced with profound awe.
"What an absolutely incredible experience," Azazel murmured, shaking his head. "But undeniably a good one. So, before I depart, what is your esteemed name, sir...?"
"Just Ren," he replied smoothly, setting the polished glass down. "The title of 'Sir' is far too much formality for this place. I'm just a simple Restaurant owner."
Ren offered a modest, self-deprecating smile. "At most, I just have a little bit of physical strength to protect my establishment."
Azazel's mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. "A little bit?"
"Now why do I suddenly feel a massive wave of malice washing over me? If this is what you call 'a little bit', then—huh?!"
Azazel's words caught violently in his throat.
The air pressure inside the restaurant suddenly vanished. The ambient noise of the jazz music and the humming refrigerators was instantly snuffed out, replaced by a deafening, ringing silence.
Before Azazel could even blink, a clenched fist materialized mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose.
There was no wind. There was no sound of movement. It was as if the universe had simply skipped a frame, and Ren's fist had teleported across the counter.
Azazel couldn't even process the martial arts technique involved. All he felt was an overwhelming, primal sense of impending death crushing down on his immortal soul, paralyzing every single muscle in his body.
The lethal pressure held for one agonizing, endless second. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the killing intent evaporated into thin air.
Ren casually pulled his hand back, resting it lightly on his hip as if nothing had happened. "That's just how it is."
The ambient sounds of the restaurant rushed back into Azazel's ears. A single bead of cold sweat trailed down the side of the Governor General's face.
Slowly, the shock melted away, replaced by a brilliant, exhilarated smile. Azazel began to laugh softly, a sound of pure, unadulterated respect.
"Truly, utterly impressive," Azazel conceded, bowing his head slightly in deference to the overwhelming power gap. "So, Shopkeeper Ren, would it be possible for me to come here again in the future?"
"Of course," Ren answered warmly, the terrifying aura completely gone, replaced once more by the hospitable aura of a chef. "Whenever you wish to visit, just find any door in your world. Hold the intention of coming to this place firmly in your mind, open it, and you can come."
Ren gestured vaguely toward the exit. "It's even better if you decide to bring some friends along next time."
Azazel's eyes lit up with genuine, boyish wonder. "Eh? Is it really that simple?"
"That's truly an amazing mechanic."
Ren let out a soft, knowing chuckle as he turned back to prepare the next batch of ingredients.
"Isn't anyone who possesses the ability to find and enter this place just as amazing?"
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