Multiverse Gourmet Hunter

The four scrolls containing the contestants’ scores were collected one by one by the officials.

All that remained now was to wait.

Mao leaned over the table, glancing every so often toward the direction Lei Hua had disappeared.

Lan Feihong still looked calm on the surface, but anyone paying close attention would have noticed that the fingers hanging at his side were slightly clenched and that even his breathing had slowed compared with usual.

Xiao Han, meanwhile, was visibly restless.

His hand gripped the paired kitchen blades hanging around his neck so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

A trace of unease lurked in his eyes.

He knew perfectly well what he had done when assigning his scores.

Haruto was somewhat nervous as well.

He had not used any special ingredients from other worlds during this Super Chef Examination, but he had still given every stage everything he had.

Whatever the result, Haruto knew he would have no regrets.

Still, if possible, he genuinely wanted to earn the title of Super Chef.

GONG—!

The sound of the gong immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Lei Hua had reappeared atop the high wall, accompanied by three officials.

She looked down at the four contestants below.

"I will now announce the final scores for this stage of the examination."

At her words, Lei Hua and the three officials beside her simultaneously released the long white banners they were holding.

The cloth unfurled down the wall.

Written across them in bold black ink were the final scores.

Xiao Han — 15 points.

Haruto — 17 points.

Liu Maoxing — 17 points.

Lan Feihong — 17 points.

The moment Xiao Han saw the numbers, his face went pale.

He had deliberately given all three of his rivals the minimum score of one point.

So how had he somehow ended up with the lowest total?

Haruto slowly exhaled and smiled as he looked at the scores on the wall.

His dish had not betrayed the effort he had poured into it.

More amusingly, because the remaining four contestants had scored one another, even Xiao Han’s attempt to sabotage everyone with minimum scores had failed to save him.

He had still ended up dead last.

Mao and Lan Feihong were equally surprised.

Mao stared at the numbers for several seconds before turning toward Haruto and then toward Fei.

The three of them had received exactly the same score.

Lan Feihong looked at Mao with a complicated expression before gradually relaxing.

"How is that possible?! There’s no way!"

Xiao Han’s hysterical roar shattered the silence.

Veins bulged across the hand clutching his paired knives, and the metal handles creaked beneath his grip. His entire face had turned red.

Lei Hua descended from the wall and looked at Xiao Han’s outburst with a slight frown.

Open disgust flashed through her eyes.

"Xiao Han, you may leave the Culinary Arena now."

Lei Hua had no desire to waste time explaining herself to someone who could not judge another chef fairly simply because he wanted to win.

Xiao Han, however, refused to accept it.

"How is my dish worse than theirs?! My Scrambled Egg Beef Noodles were flawless in both knife work and heat control!"

"Why should I have the lowest score?! I refuse to accept this!"

Lei Hua’s frown deepened.

She turned slightly and gave one of the nearby officials a look.

The official immediately stepped forward and unfurled the scroll in his hands.

It contained the complete score breakdown from the peer-judging stage.

Every score given by all four contestants was displayed clearly.

"This is the complete scoring record."

Lei Hua stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she fixed Xiao Han with it.

"Look carefully and see exactly how everyone scored."

"Haruto, Mao, and Lan Feihong each gave your dish five points."

"That gives you a total of fifteen."

"And you?"

Her voice suddenly rose.

"You gave every single one of their dishes the absolute minimum score—one point!"

Xiao Han stared at the numbers on the scroll.

His entire body seemed to go cold.

Each contestant had scored the other three out of ten, with the final total being the sum of those three scores.

Xiao Han had assumed that by giving everyone else only one point, he could drag their scores down far enough to secure an advantage.

Instead, Haruto, Mao, and Lan Feihong had remained completely fair from beginning to end.

Even when judging a direct rival, each of them had objectively given Xiao Han’s dish five points.

And when they judged one another, all three had recognized the quality of their rivals’ cooking and awarded each other eight points.

Eight plus eight, combined with Xiao Han’s malicious one-point score, produced exactly seventeen.

His little scheme had become nothing more than a joke in the face of genuine skill and fairness.

"Xiao Han, your obsession with obtaining the Super Chef title blinded you."

"The scores you gave the other three showed no respect whatsoever for their cooking and contained no trace of impartial judgment."

"If a chef cannot objectively recognize the quality of someone else’s dish, what right does he have to question how others judged his own?"

Lei Hua looked coldly at him.

"Do you still have anything to say?"

Xiao Han stared at the scoring scroll.

The anger and resentment slowly drained from his face.

In their place came shame.

She was right.

What right did he have to complain?

The moment he picked up his brush and wrote down a score of one for all three of his rivals, he had already lost.

He had lost more than a cooking competition.

He had abandoned the most basic fairness expected of a chef.

And if he was truly honest with himself, Haruto, Mao, and Lan Feihong had all created dishes superior to his own in creativity, technique, and the thought behind them.

In fact, it was precisely because Xiao Han had realized that during the tasting that he had resorted to manipulating the scores.

After a long silence, all the strength seemed to leave his body.

"I... lost."

His voice was hoarse.

He loosened his grip on his kitchen knives, then turned toward Haruto, Mao, and Lan Feihong and bowed deeply.

"Haruto, Mao, Fei... your dishes really were excellent."

"My skills weren’t enough."

"I accept my defeat."

With that, Xiao Han gathered his belongings, turned away, and slowly walked toward the gate of the Culinary Arena with heavy steps.

The massive wooden doors closed behind him with a dull, final thud.

Silence returned to the arena.

Lei Hua watched Xiao Han disappear, then turned toward the remaining three contestants.

"Traveling Chef Haruto."

"Liu Maoxing of Yangquan Restaurant."

"Lan Feihong of Datong Restaurant."

"All three of you have performed exceptionally well throughout this examination."

"I now understand that each of you is capable of judging another chef’s work rationally and fairly."

"So now I will give you the final question of this year’s Super Chef Examination."

Mao and Lan Feihong immediately became serious.

They had made it this far.

Only one final step remained.

Everything would be decided here.

Haruto also put on a suitably solemn expression, though inwardly he had already relaxed.

The Super Chef Examination had never been about cooking skill alone.

It tested the heart of the chef as well.

The peer-scoring stage had tested whether they could judge others with fairness and objectivity.

This final question would test whether they truly understood and stood by their own cooking.

And Haruto already knew the answer.

Lei Hua slowly looked across all three contestants before announcing the final challenge.

"For this last question..."

"I want each of you to give your own dish a score."

Mao and Lan Feihong froze.

Score their own dish?

Judging someone else was possible because they could rely on their understanding of cooking and evaluate the dish as objectively as they could.

But how were they supposed to judge themselves?

Should they be modest and hold back?

Or openly acknowledge the quality of what they had created?

Should they focus on every flaw and criticize themselves mercilessly?

Or should they recognize the effort they had poured into producing the best dish they possibly could?

Both Mao and Lan Feihong frowned and sank deeply into thought.

Haruto closed his eyes as though pondering just as seriously.

In reality, he was mostly trying not to look as though he already knew exactly where this was going.

Lei Hua did not rush them.

She gave all three enough time to gather their thoughts.

After a while, she turned to Mao.

"Mao, your Fish-That-Aren’t-Noodles solved the fundamental weakness of fish noodles by using dried squid as a core, perfectly compensating for the fish meat’s lack of chew."

"You created a texture and flavor that surpassed ordinary noodles while completely satisfying the theme of Noodles, Yet Not Noodles."

There was undisguised approval in Lei Hua’s voice.

She was clearly very satisfied with his dish.

"So tell me."

"What score would you give your own creation?"

Mao fell silent for a moment.

He thought back on all the effort he had put into the dish.

Every failed attempt.

Every adjustment.

Everything he had poured into that bowl.

Gradually, his eyes became firm.

He looked directly at Lei Hua and answered loudly,

"I give myself ten points!"

"Maybe as a chef, there’s still a lot I don’t know."

"There are still countless things I need to learn, and my cooking has plenty of room to improve."

"But those fish noodles are the best dish I was capable of making at this moment."

"As a chef, when I’ve poured everything I have into a dish, I don’t know how I could give that effort anything less than full marks."

Mao’s voice echoed through the vast, empty Culinary Arena.

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