The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 96

Strictly speaking, the real restriction here was the amount of gas each cooking station had available for cooking.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the large on-site screen lit up gradually, displaying the competition rules in detail. Compared to the first round—centered around potatoes—this round featured more variety and far stricter requirements.

It clearly stated: each contestant was allocated a fixed amount of gas, and the amount was the same for everyone. Once that limit was reached, the fire automatically turned off. A digital display at each station showed the remaining gas.

The back screen demonstrated how long different levels of flame—high, medium, and low—lasted, giving the contestants a practical sense of their options.

The livestream’s bullet comments lit up instantly:

【“Wow, never seen anything like this. Limiting the gas? That means the chefs have to calculate usage very precisely. If the flame runs out midway… that’s going to be awkward.”】

【“Haha, this is interesting!”】

【“Wait, looking at the demo, I think it’s not that bad. The gas provided actually seems pretty generous. It should be enough for quick stir-fries—and probably with some left over.”】

【“True. And they haven’t limited the type of dish—just that it must be a hot dish with meat. No pure vegetarian plates, and no cold raw dishes as a loophole. But if everyone makes fast stir-fries, it might be hard to tell who’s actually better.”】

The contestants weren’t amateurs. Everyone could prepare a fast stir-fry or two—many dishes could be finished in one or two minutes, sometimes even less.

Just like the audience noticed, so did the chefs.

Although gas was limited, the initial setup didn’t seem overly harsh.

Then, more details appeared on the big screen: portions had to be large enough for all judges to taste—no cheating with tiny servings.

Still, this wasn’t a real obstacle for most of the contestants.

But then came the final line of the on-screen rules: “Each contestant’s starting gas amount is fixed, but they are allowed to adjust it according to the dish they want to cook. They may increase or decrease the amount. The contestant who ended up with the lowest gas allocation would be the first to enter the ingredient selection zone, followed in ascending order.”

This line was the true core of this round—success wasn’t just about heat control, but also about ingredient choice and dish selection strategy.

The relaxed expressions of the contestants quickly turned serious.

For chefs, mastering heat meant mastering control—the constant balance between ingredients and flame.

As in the previous round, Jiang Tingzhou sat beside the monitoring screen, watching the entire process unfold.

He knew some organizers weren’t chefs themselves and might not grasp the design immediately—but it didn’t matter. Once the actual cooking started, everyone understood.

He turned to the director beside him and said simply, “Honestly, I didn’t think that far ahead when designing this. The details came together during discussions with Director He. He’s done a lot of variety shows before. He told me that what’s most engaging in a variety show is the ‘game’—the interplay between people and rules. I thought, this competition’s the same.”

Every chef had to make a decision.

Choosing more gas gave flexibility—but by the time you got to select ingredients, many premium items might be gone, and you could miss the chance to cook your signature dish.

The ingredient list, provided by Lu Group, was distributed to all contestants. It was rich and varied, but each item had a quantity limit clearly marked. There was even seafood that didn’t require high heat—but their quantities were extremely small.

But would slashing your gas to the minimum just to grab seafood guarantee a win?

Not necessarily.

No one here was stupid. The judges—and even the viewers—could tell when a dish relied more on expensive ingredients than on actual skill. It might seem like a shortcut, but it wasn’t really one at all.

This was a competition, and the contestants who made it to this round were the more seasoned ones, performing under high public attention.

Judging didn’t rely on taste alone—the panel also evaluated technique, difficulty, and execution. For this, Jiang Tingzhou brought in more judges, dividing the 100 contestants into small groups—five contestants per group, with seven judges assigned to each. Many of these judges were respected experts in the culinary field.

Meanwhile, the livestream audience cared more about the visual appeal and excitement. Only contestants who stood out in both areas advanced.

Now, the countdown began—five minutes to finalize their choices.

Each contestant entered their chosen gas amount into the screen at their workstation and waited for the final rankings.

Those who selected the same amount entered the ingredient selection area together. According to the list, they found the ingredients on their own—it wasn’t handed to them. The time between each group entering was just 30 seconds.

There was no time to dawdle. Whether you could find what you wanted in a well-stocked area—just like a supermarket’s fresh produce section—depended entirely on your speed and awareness.

When the rankings came out, some contestants were visibly surprised by the results but kept their cool. One by one, they lined up with baskets in hand at the entrance to the ingredient zone. Everyone looked serious—it felt like the starting line of a high-stakes race.

The first contestant didn’t walk—he sprinted inside.

The bullet comments had a field day:

【“That guy took that little gas? Can he even cook his dish through?”】

【“This is like watching my grandma sprinting for discounted eggs at the market.”】

【“These chefs are hilarious. Every one of them could be turned into a reaction meme—‘Desperate Hand Pose.jpg’!”】

【“I did not expect a running segment in a cooking competition.”】

【“I’m getting nervous just watching. Thirty seconds really flies! Oh hey, I recognize that one—it’s the little bear carving guy!”】

【“That’s Chef Xiong!”】

【“Wait—his name’s Niu!”】

【“Haha! The chef I picked is still in line, tiptoeing to see if someone else took his ingredients. ‘Stop looking, I swear you’re sweating already.”】

Despite the tension, the segment was unintentionally hilarious. The contestants’ emotions came through the screen, and viewers were hooked. The livestream’s view count kept climbing.

Thanks to the previous round, many contestants had already built up a following.

But once ingredient selection was over and the chefs returned to their stations, the mood changed completely.

This wasn’t just a test of cooking technique, but of mental composure. No matter how chaotic the selection phase was, now they had to calm down and cook.

The first dishes were mostly fast stir-fries.

One contestant prepared Stir-fried Double Crisp—the same dish Jiang Tingzhou once made for Zhou Bing and Du Juan.

Famous for its speed, this dish took just 15 to 20 seconds to wrap and reduce the sauce. It was done almost in a flash.

Some chefs used the Jianghu-style version, made with pork aorta and kidney. That too appeared on-site.

You could tell at a glance—this was classic street cooking: toss in chopped chili, hit it with a roaring flame, release that aroma, and soon half the venue was filled with the scent of peppers. The cameras zoomed in on the bright red chili in the wok, steam rising, and even through the screen, it felt like you could smell it.

Fast and brief didn’t mean unshowy.

On camera, a large flame burst up, the iron spatula clanged against the wok, the chef’s wrist snapped with practiced precision, tossing the ingredients up as though by the flames themselves. The oil ignited, sending flames high into the air—momentarily shaped like a dragon, leaping higher than a person’s head.

Yet the chef didn’t blink. Amid the heatwave, he focused entirely on the scent of the stir-fry.

As the flame died down, the dish was plated—and the gas display hit exactly zero.

The dish had to be eaten immediately. You could hear the sizzling on the competition plate.

Judges leaned in, blowing to cool it just enough to eat. The mic caught every crunch as they chewed.

But before the audience could savor the moment, other dishes began to arrive—particularly from those who managed to grab beef.

The tender beef fillet needed to be perfectly timed—undercook and it was raw, overcook and it was ruined. Stir-fried Yellow Cattle Beef, made with shanlong cut, millet pepper, and pickled yellow chili, stayed moist and full of flavor.

But among all beef dishes, Dry Beef Hor Fun was the most demanding in terms of heat control.

A true version had to be dry, fragrant, and flavorful—the noodles bouncy but unbroken, the beef tender, and the whole thing infused with wok hei. The noodles couldn’t stick to the wok, and even when plated, the bottom of the plate had to be free of oil—otherwise, it failed the standard.

Several chefs here made it, each with a different method.

One used “pan-searing”—searing both beef and noodles until slightly golden on the edges before stir-frying. Another used the most traditional method, skipping soy sauce entirely, instead making his own caramel for color, requiring more gas but producing the deep shade of the most authentic dry-fried beef noodles.

But of course, “heat control” wasn’t limited to frying.

Some dishes required complex steps—frying, simmering, searing—all demanding precise flame usage.

One contestant grabbed black tiger shrimp instead of lobster and crafted a delicate Hibiscus Shrimp Ball. The shrimp was carefully rolled with asparagus at the center, resembling a blooming hibiscus.

Shrimp balls had to be lightly deep-fried before stir-frying. The seasoning was minimal—the dish relied on the shrimp’s natural sweetness. It had to be crisp and juicy, while the asparagus added a refreshing crunch. Over-fry by even a minute, and the dish was ruined.

Others took a different path—one contestant made pan-seared foie gras.

Though common in Western restaurants, foie gras was notoriously tricky to prepare. It was high in fat and prone to melting. Too low a flame, and it collapsed into oil. Too high, and it burned.

A perfect foie gras had to have a crispy outer layer with a semi-liquid center—that was when the flavor peaked.

Compared to the uniformity of the first round’s potato dishes, this round’s meals were dazzling in variety and complexity.

A visual feast—and a true test of mastery.