Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"Master," Ji’an said, her voice trembling slightly with genuine excitement. "If I learn this... I won’t just be surviving. I could actually fight on par with the Inner Sect."

"Fight on par?" Jiu Zui scoffed loudly. "Kid, when Bai Hao swung his cleaver, he didn’t just cut flesh. He severed the spiritual essence of the meat. If you master this, you won’t just fight the Inner Sect elites. You will butcher them. You will take that Ice boy, and that arrogant Sword Lord, and you will teach them exactly why you never, ever disrespect the person handling your food."

Ji’an couldn’t help it. A wide, feral, incredibly arrogant grin spread across her face.

The exhaustion was gone. The fear of Yan Lie and Chi Yun faded into the background.

"I accept," Ji’an said firmly, extending her hand across the table. "I accept the inheritance, Master. And I promise you, I will make the grocery bill absolutely astronomical."

Jiu Zui threw his head back and let out a booming, joyous laugh that rattled the pans hanging from the ceiling.

He reached out and shook her hand with a grip that nearly crushed her knuckles.

"That’s my apprentice!" Jiu Zui cheered, reaching for his wine gourd and finally popping the cork. He took a massive swig, wiping his mouth with a satisfied sigh. "Tomorrow at dawn, your training begins. We start with the basics of spiritual butchery. You’re going to learn how to perfectly debone a Rank 5 Shadow-Leopard while blindfolded."

Ji’an nodded eagerly. "Got it. Blindfolded butchery. I can do that." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She paused, a sudden thought occurring to her.

The smile on her face shifted into something slightly more calculating. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

"But Master," Ji’an began, her tone shifting seamlessly from an eager student back to a pragmatic, scheming survivor. "Before we get into the combat training... we need to discuss the geopolitical ramifications of my new title. Because as a Third Generation Martial Uncle..."

Jiu Zui paused mid-drink, eyeing her warily. "Geopolitical ramifications? What are you plotting, kid?"

Ji’an’s eyes practically sparkled with mischief in the firelight. "Well, according to sect hierarchy, a Martial Uncle has the authority to requisition resources from the junior peaks, correct? And since the Inner Sect dining hall technically falls under the jurisdiction of the Fourth Generation..."

Ji’an leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Master... how would you feel about staging a hostile takeover of the entire Celestial Sword Sect’s food supply chain?"

Jiu Zui lowered his gourd. He stared at his new disciple for a long, silent moment.

And then, a slow, incredibly wicked smile spread across the Drunken Sovereign’s face.

"Kid," Jiu Zui whispered back, leaning over the table until their heads were nearly touching. "Go on. I’m listening..."

***

The flickering light of the hearth cast long, dancing shadows across the freshly scrubbed walls of the Drunken Peak’s kitchen.

Outside, the wind rustled through the ancient peach trees, carrying the faint, sweet scent of blossoms and fermented wine.

Inside, a high-stakes negotiation was taking place over an empty wooden soup bowl.

Lin Ji’an sat with her arms crossed, her gray apron stained with soot, staring down the most powerful, unhinged elder in the Celestial Sword Sect.

She had just secured the inheritance of the legendary Spirit Chef. She had been elevated to the rank of Sect Martial Uncle. She was, for all intents and purposes, set for life.

But Lin Ji’an was a millennial who had survived the grueling trenches of commercial kitchens in her past life.

She knew better than to accept a new job without establishing a firm, unbreakable set of boundaries regarding her working conditions.

"Master," Ji’an began, tapping her index finger against the wooden table for emphasis. "Before we officially begin this master-disciple relationship tomorrow morning, we need to establish some ground rules. Specifically, my ground rules."

Jiu Zui, the Drunken Sovereign, paused with his wine gourd halfway to his mouth.

He raised a dark, incredibly handsome eyebrow, looking at the sixteen-year-old kid who was currently trying to dictate terms to a cultivator who could split the sky with a hiccup.

"Ground rules?" Jiu Zui echoed, a low rumble of amusement vibrating in his chest. "Kid, you’re an Outer Sect runaway who just got handed the keys to the kingdom. Usually, this is the part where the disciple kowtows three times, swears eternal loyalty, and promises to sweep the courtyard with a toothbrush."

"I don’t do kowtows, and I certainly don’t sweep with toothbrushes," Ji’an stated flatly, lifting her chin with that trademark, arrogant quirk of her lips. "I am a foodie, Master. I am a chef. I am incredibly, notoriously picky. If the ingredients aren’t fresh, I won’t cook them. And if I don’t like a task, I absolutely will not do it."

She leaned forward, her dark eyes locking onto his amethyst ones, entirely devoid of fear.

"If you want me to wake up at four in the morning to sit on a freezing rock and meditate on the emptiness of the universe, the answer is no. If you want me to participate in inter-peak sword formations where I have to wear matching outfits with Lu Jianheng, the answer is absolutely not. Even if it was an order from the Heavens themselves, if I find it tedious, boring, or detrimental to my culinary prep time... I’m not doing it. I will hit the Heavens with my spatula."

Silence hung in the kitchen.

For a terrifying second, Ji’an wondered if she had finally pushed her luck too far.

Cultivation masters were notorious for demanding absolute, unquestioning obedience. She braced herself for a blast of spiritual pressure, or at least a stern reprimand about humility.

Instead, Jiu Zui slowly lowered his gourd. The edges of his eyes crinkled.

And then, he threw his head back and laughed.

It wasn’t a polite chuckle; it was a booming, joyous, foundation-rattling roar of laughter that knocked a rusted ladle off the counter.