A busy day at work quietly came to an end.

Just as Wang Jian had previously said, the workload had indeed doubled.

The task of incinerating bodies had become extremely burdensome, with corpses of the Calamity Corpses lined up to be fed into the incinerator. Although not exactly endless, it was enough to keep people busy beyond capacity, overwhelmed with tasks.

So much so that Feng Mu, the veteran "chef," was kept so busy that he couldn't put down his spatula. The meat was not stirred evenly on the "cooking board," with oil splashing everywhere. Some parts were so charred, the smell of burning was overpowering.

Feng Mu didn't delve into the reasons behind the increase in Calamity Corpses. He simply completed his day's work diligently.

While washing the spatula, his movements were practiced and calm. However, just as he dried the last drop of water and was about to wrap up, an unexpected sight unfolded before him.

A brand-new skill icon had appeared in the ordinary skills section of the system panel—[Culinary Skill·Beginner (1/100)].

"System, are you sure there's no mistake? Is this so-called culinary skill really what I think it is?"

Feng Mu's pupils suddenly tightened, shock and disbelief swelling in his heart.

Immediately, it was as if an invisible force washed over his mind, flooding it with a series of detailed knowledge about cooking: how to control heat, how to stir-fry, especially various techniques for frying meat. These basics were so detailed, yet the memory of each stir-fried dish was utterly unpleasant to look at.

After digesting this sudden influx of information, Feng Mu silently resolved in his heart:

"Though the knowledge seems quite professional, I will never use this culinary skill to cook. At the very least, I will not eat any food prepared with this skill, not even a bite."

For Feng Mu, the emergence of the culinary skill was both shocking and delightfully surprising.

The culinary skill may not be important, but even a glimpse revealed the deep meaning behind it:

The system's skill generation mechanism was not just based on learning from manuals and imitation; it could create skills out of nothing, and it does so quite absurdly!!!

Incineration and culinary skills seemed to have absolutely no connection in the eyes of ordinary people.

If one insisted on saying they were connected, it would be as absurd as having one's brain bitten by a Calamity Corpse.

But to flatly deny any connection seems to lack a bit of... imagination?

Feng Mu paused for a moment, then his eyes gleamed with understanding:

"Exactly, it's imagination, imagination?!!"

"Reality doesn't require logical connections or scientific evidence; a bit of similarity in imagination is all the system needs to, under certain judgments, absurdly create corresponding bizarre skills?"

"Well, culinary skill as a craft, in itself, is not absurd. But connecting it with incineration, that undoubtedly turns it into an extraordinarily bizarre skill."

"Since this skill generation leaped from incineration to culinary skill this time, who knows what kind of skill it will derive from next time? It might really create some extremely bizarre skills..."

"For example, if I use chopsticks to catch a fly, will the system generate a unique swordsmanship skill from that? And if instead of catching flies, I choose to throw chopsticks tied with a thread, will the system go haywire and spontaneously create... a Sword Control Technique?"

Riding his bicycle away from the incineration plant, Feng Mu's mind was filled with weird, unscientific thoughts.

Suddenly, he felt a sense of happy distress.

"So, should I continue learning and practicing various manuals step-by-step, or should I let my imagination run wild and let the system absurdly create on its own?"

The former, like a carefully cultivated field, yields whatever seed is planted, providing continuous and stable output without unexpected twists and no great surprises.

The latter, however, resembles a card-drawing game by a sly planner; you never know what you'll draw, possibly a handful of waste cards or even a pile of "thank you for your patronage" blanks.

But who can guarantee that, amidst countless attempts, you wouldn't suddenly have a stroke of luck and draw the coveted SSR-level grand prize?

"Such trouble, sigh," Feng Mu sighed deeply.

The seat beneath him seemed to share its owner's troubles, creaking with difficulty as it turned.

Eventually, Feng Mu appeared at the entrance of the Douqiong Martial Arts Hall. He looked up at the sign, which had been repaired and rehung, and walked into the front courtyard, his gaze soon landing on the ancient withered tree in the center.

At the tree's roots, a bit of newly turned earth was slightly raised, as if it had been carefully tilled and topped with a life-giving layer of fertilizer, emitting a faint earthy smell.

Feng Mu stepped over the threshold of the training hall, his eyes first falling on the front desk where Hong Ya was squatting, yawning, lazily chewing food, and quietly enjoying a moment of leisure.

Next, his gaze gently shifted to the center of the dojo, on those students, though limited in talent and ordinary in root bone, who were still giving their all, sweat rolling down as they tirelessly practiced their martial techniques on various equipment.

He faintly arrived at an answer in his heart: "I want it all. I don't want to become a corpse buried under the withered tree; I must constantly improve and consistently produce. But if I don't want to be mediocre, finally trampled under the feet of even more terrifying fiends, I must also draw cards and take my chances, hoping a bicycle turns into a motorcycle."

"All along, I've been doing just that, much like my decision to consume iron; I must continue to eat raw iron, and also find a way to digest and swallow Calamity Iron."

"The only issue is that my focus may scatter, and time is insufficient, so I must find a way to acquire more skill points to crazily water the fruits, and also....."

"Compress sleep time every day, squeeze my time and energy like a sponge, squeeze, squeeze until I've wrung out the last excess drop of moisture, and rest is out of the question."

"Starting tomorrow, no, starting tonight, I'll only sleep 3, no, 2 and a half hours."

A glint of ruthlessness flashed in Feng Mu's eyes, not a harshness toward others, but a brutal strictness nearly cruel to himself.

"Junior Brother, you're back! Here is your meal; I've locked it up for you so Senior Brother won't steal it away."

Hong Ya raised her head upon seeing Feng Mu enter, quickly reached out, grasped his wrist warmly, and pulled him toward the front desk. She retrieved that key, always treasured close to her, from beneath her bodice, and deftly unlocked the clasp on the cupboard.

Quietly inside the cabinet sat a bulging insulated lunch box, filled with enticing meals.

As the lid of the insulated box gradually opened, a wave of heat surged out, and the fragrant scent immediately filled the air.

Feng Mu grabbed the insulated box without hesitation and began to devour the food, each bite rich with flavor, his mouth glistening with oil.

Clearly, no worry outweighs the importance of eating.

While eating, Hong Ya said, "Junior Brother, it's best if you stay at the martial arts hall from now on. That way, you can ensure three nutritious meals a day. As Master said, the most important thing in martial arts practice is to eat well, otherwise, you'll train yourself to death."

Feng Mu gently nodded. He had already considered this suggestion and replied, "Indeed, it's just that the martial arts hall is a bit far from the incineration plant, making it inconvenient to go to work."

Hearing this, Hong Ya said, "Oh, Master also asked about you this morning. He specifically instructed you to quit your job at the incineration plant, either stay at the martial arts hall to help me manage, or have Senior Brother or Second Senior Sister find you an appropriate job.

Feng Mu paused, nodded again, thinking perhaps my master could see through my mind, a foresight that was rather considerate.

...

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