Not causing more issues, but the pressure it put on the other chefs was even greater. In other words, to pass, all the judges who tasted it had to deem it satisfactory.
All three judges had to give a pass, leaving even the critics with no grounds to object. Only then would it be considered passing. If even one judge thought it was unsatisfactory, the contestant would be eliminated on the spot.
These seven judges were the head chef of Five-Star Restaurant, the Chief Immortal Chef of Zhisheng Fresh Market, the Chairman, a top-tier food blogger, a senior professor from a Culinary Dao University, a famous food show host, and a Demon Clan grandmaster with a taotie bloodline.
The difficulty of satisfying all seven judges was immense.
They could only pray that only one person would come to judge them.
After that young Immortal Chef passed, contestants began to finish their fried rice one after another and receive passing grades. They either came from Culinary Dao clans or were chefs from famous hotels.
They had all prepared some trump cards in advance, which was why they could complete a passing fried rice so quickly.
At this point, Mu Yanxi had only finished the first preparatory step—cooking the rice. It was expected to be done in about fifteen minutes.
Then she began dicing the chicken thigh meat and ham, stir-frying them with shrimp in oil, and setting them aside. The oil was lard rendered from the pork belly of a six-tusked black pig earlier.
Then Mu Yanxi had nothing left to do. She sat down at the stove, keeping an eye on the soaking, the rice cooking, the broth simmering, and the sauce being prepared. Only when all these were complete could she move to the next step.
“Ah, Yanxi, how can you still be so leisurely at a time like this? Over twenty people have already finished, huh?”
Bai Ying, who basically didn’t understand cooking, was still worrying in vain. She suddenly noticed that the number of people claiming to be done had sharply decreased. Most chefs were sitting with their eyes closed like Mu Yanxi.
“The first batch were the clueless ones, the second batch were those who came prepared with trump cards, and the third batch are the ones with real skill,” said an old customer who had watched the Immortal Chef Competition many times.
“The real contest starts at the thirty-minute mark. The first two batches had pre-prepared tricks, but the third batch is where they rely on genuine ability.”
Sure enough, when the steam whistle from the rice cookers sounded, many chefs stood up almost simultaneously.
They lifted the lids, took out the cooked rice, swept it with their spirit sense, picked out the most refined grains—each nearly identical in size—quickly dehydrated them, and placed them into bowls soaked in ice water to cool and solidify.
Normally, fried rice should be made with dry, day-old rice, but the venue didn’t provide it, so they had to cook fresh rice first. While the rice was cooking, they prepared other ingredients, then manually dehydrated and cooled the rice after it was done.
However, Mu Yanxi was one step behind them. She had wasted a few minutes on the square doing simulated learning, which was fatal in a competition where every second counted.
When Mu Yanxi’s rice was also cooked, she quickly completed the dehydration and cooling steps and immediately started processing the rehydrated dried goods. She diced them, stir-fried them in the wok, and set them aside in separate bowls.
At this point, most chefs had already begun stir-frying their rice.
This was also the most critical step.
Mu Yanxi added the rice to the wok, poured in cooking wine, and used her magical cooking spatula to quickly break it apart.
Once the aroma was released, she started adding eggs. She cracked three angry river chicken eggs into the wok, pouring and tossing simultaneously.
The rice rose like ocean waves, then fell back precisely into the wok. In this process, every grain was coated with egg liquid, which quickly solidified over the heat, forming the appearance of gold wrapping silver.
In that instant, Bai Ying was mesmerized.
She felt that Mu Yanxi’s movements were like art. Every toss, every stir, was flawless—neither rushed nor slow, without a single misstep in heat control or uneven coating of egg.
Then Mu Yanxi began adding the other ingredients.
Sea king sea cucumber, diced chicken thigh meat, golden wheel dried scallops, dried bamboo shoot, ham, shiitake mushrooms…
She added them one by one, clearly following a deliberate order. Some were added consecutively, others after a brief interval—arranged methodically, unlike some Immortal Chefs who would get excited and dump everything in at once.
It was only then that Bai Ying snapped out of her fascination with Mu Yanxi’s cooking and suddenly realized that Mu Yanxi had caught up with the vast majority of contestants.
But at this moment, some of the third-batch contestants had already started calling out that they were finished.
Compared to the first batch, the pass rate for the third batch was much higher. Most could achieve near-perfection in their fried rice, whether it was seafood fried rice, curry fried rice, or immortal fruit fried rice—all above excellent standards.
Those declared unqualified were in the minority, and most of those felt like nitpicking.
But this also meant that the number of available slots was shrinking rapidly.
Soon, thirty people passed, then forty, leaving only about twenty spots. Bai Ying was so nervous she was sweating.
Mu Yanxi remained unhurried, calmly stir-frying her rice.
This was the final stretch. The closer to the end, the more one must not rush.
She poured in a ladle of freshly boiled chicken broth, simultaneously drizzling in a specially prepared sauce.
She added shrimp for umami, a pinch of salt, a second portion of stock, sprinkled in scallions, and reduced the liquid until dry. Then she plated it!
Mu Yanxi gave the spatula a gentle flick, and the golden fried rice fell onto the plate like a waterfall, filling it perfectly without excess, leaving the rest in the wok. Just looking at that vividly colored fried rice made one’s mouth water.
“I’m done.”
Mu Yanxi raised her hand. At this moment, she was the fifty-fifth contestant to finish, but by then, all seven judges had already fanned out to taste the different contestants’ fried rice.
Fortunately, the organizers tracked the order of completion. After a short wait, a judge walked up to Mu Yanxi.
It was an old Immortal Chef in a chef’s uniform.
“Why does it have to be that professor? He’s especially strict. Several people who should have passed just now were disqualified by him on nitpicks,” Bai Ying lamented their bad luck, though if he hadn’t eliminated so many, Mu Yanxi might really have finished last.
“Hmph, little girl, you’ve made something quite presentable. The aroma is good too. Young as you are, only at Qi Refining, yet you have such culinary skill?”
The old Immortal Chef praised her as soon as he saw the quality of the fried rice.
He was an old professor, a specialist in the Culinary Dao, and had once been a head chef in his youth, so he was especially harsh on contestants.
But just from smelling the aroma, he could tell that the young lady before him, despite appearances, was absolutely a master of the Culinary Dao.
Yet oddly, she didn’t have the aura of a master.
For instance, most Immortal Chefs kept their hair short, tied it up while cooking, or even shaved their heads completely. A shaved head was a symbol of strength in the culinary world.
But this little girl had let her long silver hair fly freely while stir-frying. Even though cultivators didn’t shed hair, it was definitely a hindrance when actually cooking.
If she had been his own disciple or a previous contestant, the old Immortal Chef would have already started scolding. But the aroma of this fried rice made him, for a moment, feel that she was a true expert.
With no other choice, the old Immortal Chef picked up the spoon and took a mouthful.