Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

The lower kitchens grew louder once people realized Nia intended to stay near the preparation counters for more than a few minutes.

Questions started almost immediately afterward.

“What’s noodles.”

“Is it soup.”

“Can you roast it.”

“Why’s the flour finer than usual.”

“Is this another storage thing.”

Nia looked up from the mixing bowl. “Either help or stop crowding my counter.”

One of the younger assistants pointed cautiously toward the flour. “That looks like a waste of good grain.”

“You say that now.”

“Then why are we boiling it.”

“Because that’s how noodles work.”

“That explains absolutely nothing.”

“Mmhm.”

Shen set the second flour jar beside her while Elder Bran continued watching from the rear preparation tables with visible distrust.

Nia ignored all of them and poured flour into the bowl.

The refined grain behaved differently immediately, lighter beneath her fingers than the coarse meal Hearthfang normally used for bread. Once she worked it through her hands the texture almost resembled sifted powder. She added salt from one of the nearby dishes before shaping a shallow well through the center.

Several workers drifted closer toward the counter.

Nia glanced up. “If anyone breathes directly into my bowl, I’m assigning dish duty.”

The workers leaned back again.

Shen handed her warmed water before she asked.

At this point he had started anticipating kitchen steps almost as quickly as she thought of them herself.

She poured slowly while stirring with her opposite hand.

The dough came together gradually beneath her fingers while the kitchens continued moving around them in overlapping waves of conversation, boiling broth, scraping ladles, shifting crates, and workers rotating through for food before returning toward assignments deeper inside the mountain.

Someone near the rear hearth dropped an entire stack of bowls.

“Jorin again?” Elder Bran asked without looking up.

Someone near the rear hearth groaned loudly. “He nearly took out the whole shelf this time.”

“That was one bowl,” another worker argued.

“It was six.”

Nia laughed softly under her breath while kneading the dough against the stone counter.

The refined flour needed less water than she expected. The dough absorbed evenly enough that the latest grindstone adjustments had clearly worked better than yesterday’s attempts.

Her palms pressed steadily through the dough while she folded and turned it repeatedly against the counter. Elasticity developed slowly beneath her hands.

Several assistants watched with increasing suspicion.

One finally asked, “Are you making bread wrong on purpose.”

Nia pointed the dough hook toward him. “Keep talking and I’ll hand you the dough.”

He retreated immediately.

Shen rested one hip lightly against the neighboring counter while watching her work.

“You’ve made this often?” he asked.

“Back home? Yeah.”

The mention of home settled strangely in her chest while she continued folding the dough, the memories attached to ordinary routines staying easier to reach now than larger details she tried too hard to hold onto directly.

Nia pressed harder through the dough once before continuing.

The kitchens stayed warm enough that steam gathered faintly along the braids nearest the hearths. Her shoulders still carried a dull ache from the earlier hair work, though the heat softened some of the stiffness.

Shen watched her for another moment.

“Different grain there?”

“Hm?”

“The noodles.”

“Oh.” She wiped flour against the side of her wrist. “Sometimes. Depends what kind.”

Several more workers looked up at that.

“No,” she said before anyone started asking questions. “I’m not explaining every type of noodle people make. We would still be talking by spring.”

One assistant frowned. “There are multiple kinds?”

“People get stubborn about noodles.”

“People argue over noodles?”

“People get stubborn about food.”

Elder Bran snorted hard enough to count as agreement.

Nia finished kneading before covering the dough beneath a cloth.

“Now it rests.”

The nearest assistant blinked. “That’s all.”

“No.”

“How long.”

“A little while.”

“That’s not a time.”

“It is in kitchens.”

The assistant frowned harder at the answer but stepped back once another worker squeezed past him toward the hearths.

Nia reached for the nearest abandoned cup of tea near the counter. The tea had already gone cold by the time she found it again, but she drank it anyway.

Around them, the morning rush gradually shifted toward steadier midmorning rhythm. Fewer workers crowded the serving stations now that most labor crews had already rotated outward toward assignments across Hearthfang.

A pair of maintenance workers crossed through the kitchens carrying frozen metal fittings wrapped in cloth.

Another group moved toward the rear storage corridors with ropes and replacement parts for the lift channels.

Nia caught fragments of conversation while they passed.

“Still jammed solid—”

“—north channels froze deeper than expected—”

“—if the runoff backs again—”

Shen’s attention shifted briefly toward the corridor.

Nia noticed immediately.

“You worried?”

“Not yet.”

Which usually meant yes.

She watched another crew disappear through the lower corridor carrying tools toward the frozen channels.

The storm had technically passed days earlier, but Hearthfang still carried the aftermath through frozen lift systems, ice buildup, supply rotation problems, and constant heat management. Half the workers moving through the kitchens carried the stiff-shouldered posture of people who had already spent too long outside.

Nia pulled the cloth back from the dough and pressed one finger lightly into the surface.

The dough finally pushed back with the elasticity she wanted.

She dusted flour across the counter before cutting the dough into sections.

Several assistants leaned forward again immediately.

“This part matters,” she warned.

“More than the boiling?”

“Yes.”

“That still feels wrong.”

“That explains a few things.”

“What things.”

“The way you all treat grain.”

Shen stepped beside her once the rolling began.

“Knife,” she said.

He handed one over immediately.

“Board.”

Already there.

“More flour.”

A smaller bowl appeared beside her hand before she finished speaking.

Nia glanced sideways toward him.

“You’re getting too efficient at this.”

“I’ve adapted.”

“That’s exactly what worries me.”

The dough stretched smoothly beneath the rolling pin. The flour still lacked some of the elasticity she wanted, but the sheets rolled thinly enough to work with.

She folded the flattened dough carefully before slicing long strips with practiced motions.

Conversation around the counter thinned briefly while people watched her cut the dough.

One assistant stared openly.

“You made strings.”

“Yes.”

“Intentionally.”

“Yes.”

“That still looks wrong.”

“It’s supposed to.”

The first strips loosened apart once she shook them free. Slightly thicker than she preferred, but close enough for broth.

Another assistant touched one carefully. “It’s soft.”

“It’s uncooked.”

“That explains absolutely nothing.”

“Most things make less sense before breakfast.”

Elder Bran approached the counter at last while she continued cutting.

“You used less water.”

Nia looked up.

He gestured toward the dough. “Compared to bread.”

“Mmhm.”

“The finer flour absorbed differently.”

Elder Bran pressed one finger against the edge of the dough before grunting quietly.

“You used less water.”

“Mmhm.”

“The grain held together better.”

Nia glanced sideways toward him while folding another cut sheet aside. “You stopped looking like I was ruining the grain stores.”

Elder Bran snorted and pressed one thumb against the dough again before answering.

“I said the flour worked better. I didn’t say your methods made sense.”

“But you’re still standing here watching.”

“One disaster at a time.”

He stayed beside the counter anyway.

The first pot of water reached a rolling boil near the nearest hearth.

Nia carried over a tray of noodles dusted lightly with flour before lowering the first handful carefully into the steaming water.

Several assistants flinched.

“Relax,” she said. “They’re supposed to do that.”

The noodles vanished briefly beneath the bubbling surface before rising again.

Steam rolled heavily upward. The scent changed almost immediately, carrying something warmer and richer than the dense porridge or baked grain meals Hearthfang usually served.

Shen stepped closer beside her while she stirred carefully with a wooden utensil.

“How long?” he asked.

“Not long.”

Several people looked irritated by the answer again.

Nia ignored them.

She tested one piece after another minute before biting through the center. The middle still felt too firm at first, but another moment in the water fixed most of it.

She drained the noodles into a large bowl while Elder Bran continued watching with the severe concentration of a man evaluating structural weaknesses.

Nia added hot broth first, then sliced preserved meat, softened greens from one of the warming trays, a little oil, and cracked dried herbs. The broth stayed simple enough that the noodles carried most of the texture.

Steam rolled heavily upward from the bowl in her hands.

Nearly everyone near the hearths looked toward it once the broth started steaming.

Nia looked between all of them.

“You know,” she said slowly, “there’s something wrong with this many people watching one bowl.”

“Eat it,” one assistant said immediately.

“Careful. I’m still holding the pot.”

“Eat it.”

Nia lifted the bowl and took a careful bite.

The noodles came out softer than she usually preferred, but they held together well enough for broth. The liquid clung to the surface better than expected.

Warm broth and softer noodles settled through her chest and stomach almost fast enough to make her close her eyes. After weeks of heavier winter meals, the softer texture and heat hit hard enough that she slowed after the first bite.

A quiet sound escaped her before she could stop it.

Half the kitchen started staring harder afterward.

“That expression answered enough,” Elder Bran muttered.

Nia pointed toward him with the chop—

She stopped.

Looked down at her empty hand.

Right.

No chopsticks.

She grabbed a spoon instead.

“Okay,” she said while turning back toward the pot. “Tiny portions first. If I accidentally made paste, nobody gets to complain with a full bowl.”

The kitchens erupted immediately afterward.

Within minutes the preparation counters filled with bowls.

Workers crowded shoulder-to-shoulder around the serving area while Nia portioned noodles into broth beneath increasingly aggressive supervision.

One younger worker looked down into his bowl with immediate offense. “You barely gave me anything.”

“It’s the first batch,” Nia replied while reaching for the next bowl. “If the noodles fall apart after five more minutes in broth, I’d rather disappoint everyone with half portions than waste an entire pot.”

The worker beside him leaned over to compare bowls anyway. “You gave Tarek more.”

“Tarek weighs as much as two of you put together,” someone farther down the counter muttered.

“That still feels biased.”

“It feels like winter,” Elder Bran said without looking up from the cutting board.

Shen moved smoothly beside her, refilling broth and shifting bowls before workers had to ask.

Elder Bran took over slicing additional meat.

At some point three more assistants appeared carrying extra bowls entirely on their own.

The noise around the counters softened gradually once people started eating. Conversation gave way to quieter scraping bowls and occasional comments exchanged between workers.

Nia watched people slurp noodles with growing confidence.

One older worker frowned thoughtfully down at his bowl.

“This feels like food for storms.”

Another nodded slowly. “Heavy enough to last.”

“Broth stays hotter longer.”

“The texture’s good.”

One assistant looked personally betrayed.

“You refined good grain this far just to boil it.”

Nia snorted softly into her bowl.

The assistant still looked faintly betrayed while lifting another bite of noodles. “You put all that work into refining grain just to throw it into broth.”

“And you’re still eating it,” Nia replied.

“He’s on his second bowl already,” another worker added farther down the counter.

Elder Bran grunted once while continuing to slice preserved meat. “People complain less when their mouths are full.”

Several nearby workers looked toward him immediately.

Nia turned slowly in his direction.

“You admitting I improved something voluntarily?”

“You made the flour more useful.”

“You’re complimenting me.”

“I’m evaluating grain application.”

“That almost sounded like praise.”

Elder Bran looked ready to revoke her kitchen privileges permanently.

Noise broke across the kitchens almost immediately afterward as workers started talking over one another, and Nia nearly lost hold of her spoon once the argument escalated into Elder Bran yelling about grain calculations again.

Cold air swept through the lower corridor entrance again before Kael emerged from the passage carrying snow and mountain frost into the overheated kitchens with him. Nearby conversation softened automatically as several workers noticed him crossing toward the crowded serving tables.

His hair carried fine snow along the darker strands near his temples. Ice dust clung faintly to one shoulder.

His eyes found Nia almost immediately across the crowded room before shifting toward the rows of steaming bowls covering the counters.

Then his attention moved across the packed preparation stations again.

“What happened here.”

Nia pointed her spoon toward the nearest pot. “Noodles.”

One assistant answered through a mouthful of broth.

“She boiled flour.”

Kael looked toward the bowl.

Then toward Nia.

Then back toward the bowl again.

“You made soup from dough.”

“That’s not what noodles are.”

“It’s boiled dough.”

“Finish the bowl before insulting it again.”

Shen handed Kael one of the remaining bowls.

Kael accepted automatically while still watching Nia.

“You’ve been down here all morning.”

“There are too many witnesses for anything irresponsible.”

His eyes moved briefly toward the crowded counters around her.

“If anything,” Shen said mildly, “supervision increased.”

Several workers nodded immediately.

Nia ignored all of them and leaned lightly against the preparation counter while Kael tested the broth.

The kitchens quieted enough for nearby workers to watch his reaction openly.

Kael rarely reacted strongly to food in public. He usually ate with the same focused efficiency he brought to everything else, but after the first bite his attention lowered briefly toward the bowl again before he took another.

Then another.

Nia watched the side of his face carefully.

“Well?”

Kael swallowed.

“Make more.”

Workers started talking over one another almost immediately afterward, and Nia nearly lost hold of her spoon once Elder Bran began yelling about grain calculations again.

Kael stepped closer through the crowded kitchens until he stood beside her shoulder.

Only then did she notice the faint redness along the backs of his hands where cold had worked through the gloves.

Nia grabbed one wrist immediately.

“You were outside too long.”

“I was working.”

“That is not a defense.”

His skin felt cold enough that her fingers tightened instinctively around his wrist.

Nia frowned harder and pulled him closer toward the hearth without letting go.

“Sit down before your fingers fall off.”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You mountain people think freezing is normal.”

Kael sat after she shoved him toward the nearest bench hard enough to draw a few glances from nearby workers.

Steam rolled upward from the bowls between them while the kitchens resumed moving around the counters at full speed again.

Shen refilled broth.

Assistants carried additional flour sacks toward the preparation tables.

Someone already attempted noodle cuts at the far end of the kitchen with catastrophic results.

Nia watched one strip fuse into a shapeless lump.

“Too much flour,” she called.

The assistant stared down at the ruined strip with visible offense.

Kael rested one forearm against the table while eating steadily beside her.

“You should’ve stayed lower in the mountain,” Nia muttered.

“I was.”

“You’re covered in snow.”

“The lower exterior channels.”

“Why are there exterior channels underneath the mountain.”

“The north runoff nearly sealed.”

Nia looked over immediately. “How bad.”

“Manageable.”

Nia had already started distrusting the word manageable whenever mountain people used it. Mountain people used manageable the same way soldiers probably used survivable.

Kael finished the remaining broth before setting the bowl aside.

“The western supports held.”

“Good.”

“The upper lift still needs clearing.”

“Bad.”

“We’ll handle it.”

Kael said it casually while reaching for the remaining broth, but the wording lingered in her attention longer than the surrounding kitchen noise afterward.

Steam rolled through the crowded kitchens while workers argued loudly over noodle thickness near the preparation counters. Kael sat beside the hearth finishing his broth while Shen quietly reorganized the serving station before the growing mess spread farther.

Workers reached around Nia without hesitation now, passing bowls, flour, and utensils across the crowded tables with the same easy familiarity they used with the rest of the kitchen staff.

Questions kept getting shouted toward her counter.

Someone at the far hearth demanded more noodles.

Another immediately argued that noodles sounded better than boiled strips.

The debate escalated fast enough that Elder Bran started yelling again.

Nia laughed into the steam rising from her bowl.

Then she reached sideways without thinking and brushed melting snow from Kael’s shoulder while Shen slid another fresh bowl toward him from the opposite side.

Outside the kitchens, winter still pressed heavily against Hearthfang while broth simmered steadily beside the hearths and steam climbed warmly through the crowded room.

Somewhere behind her, another worker shouted triumphantly that their noodle strips finally stopped sticking together.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!