Since returning from Green Mist Mountain, the nickname "Wok-Shield Warrior" had spread on a small scale among the outer sect disciples. Though mostly good-natured teasing, it had genuinely embarrassed Xiao Qi for quite some time. He hid that black iron wok even deeper, never showing it unless absolutely necessary. However, this encounter also made him more certain that this wok was no ordinary object; his longing for his parents, for Xu Lan Manor, and his desire to uncover the truth grew ever stronger. The guidance from his senior brother Mu Qingfeng—"To comprehend in the minute details is also the Dao"—and those seemingly mischievous little spells from his second senior brother Luo Feng, which trained spiritual power control, converged in his heart like two different streams. He no longer confined cultivation solely to seated meditation, refining qi, and completing tasks assigned by his master and senior sister. He began consciously integrating cultivation into daily life, especially in the place he was most familiar with—the kitchen.
After becoming a recorded disciple, he was no longer required to perform miscellaneous duties. Yet Xiao Qi proactively requested Steward Li of the kitchen to allow him to continue helping during his spare time. Steward Li was pleased to have a familiar and diligent hand and thus agreed. And so, that familiar corner in the kitchen's backyard once again became Xiao Qi's exclusive "cultivation" ground.
The first thing he attempted was the "fire control" mentioned by his senior brother. Ordinary kitchen helpers stir-fried by relying on experience, observing the fire's color and adjusting the firewood. Xiao Qi was different. He lit the stove fire, placed the wok atop it, and instead of immediately adding ingredients, he first closed his eyes, gently rested one hand on the wok handle, and mobilized the faint trace of fire-attribute spiritual power within him, trying to "sense" changes in the wok's temperature.
At first, this perception was vague and indistinct, no different from visual observation. But he persevered, practicing day after day. Gradually, he discovered that through the heat transmitted via the wok handle, and the resonance between his own spiritual power and the faint fire-qi residue within the wok—activated by the heat—he could discern temperature differences more finely. For example, when the wok bottom just turned pale white, it was a slightly hot "restlessness," suitable for aromatic stir-frying; when the oil surface rippled with fine waves, it was an even "warmth," suitable for gentle stir-frying; and when flames enveloped the wok bottom, with steam rising inside, it was a scorching "boiling," suitable for frying. This perception wasn't as mystical as divine sense extension; it was more like an extremely subtle accumulation of experience based on tactile sensation and spiritual power feedback.
He began attempting, while stir-frying, to adjust his spiritual power output with extreme precision based on this perception. For instance, when intense heat was needed to lock in ingredients' moisture, he would concentrate a wisp of spiritual power in the area where the wok bottom contacted the flames. Although this couldn't truly increase flame temperature, it seemed to make the wok heat more evenly and the firepower transmission more "thorough." When a gentle simmer was required, he would withdraw his spiritual power, even attempting to form an extremely thin, weak insulating layer of spiritual power on the wok walls to slow heat dissipation.
The effects were negligible at first, and he often ended up burning the food or leaving it undercooked due to distraction while controlling spiritual power. Steward Li scolded him several times for being "clumsy," but Xiao Qi simply lowered his head in apology, then secretly tried again next time. Yet as time passed, the dishes he stir-fried indeed achieved noticeably more precise heat control than before. Even Steward Li occasionally muttered, "Kid, your skills are improving."
Besides fire control, Xiao Qi also used that heavy wok as equipment to train wrist strength and spiritual power circulation. He practiced "wok tossing." This seemed like a basic chef's skill, but for him, it was immensely difficult. The wok was heavy, his strength small; to effortlessly toss the ingredients in the wok required instantaneous explosive power in the wrist and precise control of force. He often practiced with an empty wok when no one was around. Initially, he couldn't even toss it, struggling just to hold the wok steady. Gritting his teeth, he failed repeatedly, his arms sore and unable to lift. In this process, he realized that relying solely on physical strength was far from enough, so he began attempting to channel spiritual power into the meridians of his arm—especially the acupoints at his wrist—during the instant of tossing. This demanded extremely quick mobilization and precise output of spiritual power. A fraction too much, and the wok would fly out of control; a fraction too little, and it wouldn't budge.
He failed countless times, the wok clanging loudly on the ground, drawing sidelong glances. But he didn't give up, recalling the key points Senior Sister Liu Yun had taught about force application techniques, combining them with his own understanding of spiritual power circulation, and gradually adjusting the flow and intensity of his spiritual power. Bit by bit, he progressed from completely unable to toss, to barely making the sand inside (he used sand instead of ingredients for practice) shift slightly, to managing to toss a few grains lightly... Each minuscule advance gave him deeper insight into his own control over strength, especially instantaneousburst and precisecontrol. He felt his wrist become more flexible, and the circulation of spiritual power through his arm meridians seemed to flow a little more smoothly.
This unconventional "cultivation" was tedious and arduous, appearing even somewhat unorthodox to outsiders. Yet Xiao Qi found joy in it. He could sense the subtle shifts in heat while stir-frying, and experience the perfect coordination of strength and spiritual power while tossing. These seemingly trivial matters, unrelated to the Great Dao, allowed him to truly touch the boundaries of "control."
One day, he was stir-frying a simple supper with newly picked wild vegetables and a bit of minced meat. Fully focused, sensing the wok's temperature, he gave a gentle flick of his wrist. The ingredients traced a brief arc through the air, turned evenly, and landed back in the wok with a pleasant sizzle. The heat was just right—the wild vegetables vibrant green, the minced meat fragrantly browned. He extinguished the fire, gazing at the dish in the wok, its color, aroma, and flavor all present. An unprecedented sense of satisfaction welled up within him. This wasn't just a dish; it was the "result" of countless failures and attempts over these past months, conducted in this confined space of the kitchen. His subtle control over spiritual power had genuinely, unexpectedly improved through each stir-fry, each toss.
He picked up the wok, ready to enjoy this dinner he had meticulously "cultivated." Moonlight spilled onto the dark wok bottom, reflecting a hazy sheen. This wok was no longer merely a protective talisman or a medium for sensing qi; it had become an important "magical tool" for him to practice his own cultivation path. In this kitchen filled with the aroma of cooking smoke, a unique cultivation road—rich with practice and personal insight—was quietly unfolding beneath Xiao Qi's feet.