At the end of the Imperial Kitchen, in a space not open to the public, a stone wall one meter wide and three meters long rose from the ground. Through the opening, it was clear that within lay another sacred grove, a veritable Taoyuan. The melodious chirps of birds wove together rhythmically as waves of floral fragrance wafted out from the entryway.
An elderly man with white hair was guarding the entrance.
The moment he saw Qin Fan approaching, his breathing hitched, his face twisting into a mask of utter disbelief and shock. From Qin Fan, he sensed an aura akin to that of the Master. To call it an aura was an understatement; it was pressure. A majestic pressure so powerful it made him tremble! Originally, he had wanted to probe Qin Fan's depths to see what abilities this young man possessed to make the Master himself cook for him. But in that instant, the thought vanished like smoke.
"Mr. Qin, please," the old man said, bowing slightly out of courtesy.
