Li Fan stood in the august Hall of Celestial Judgement, feeling utterly out of place. The marble floors gleamed like a mirror, reflecting his simple mortal chef attire—stained apron and all—amid a sea of flowing immortal robes. At the head of the hall, a semicircle of stern-faced celestial bureaucrats peered down at him over scrolls and spectacles. Each official's halo was slightly askew, giving the impression of overworked clerks rather than enlightened sages. Li Fan clutched his wok nervously, as if it were a trusty shield against the absurdity unfolding.
An elderly celestial minister cleared his throat with the gravitas of a thunderclap. "Li Fan, Mortal of the Lower Realms," he intoned, reading from a scroll that unraveled down to his feet. "You stand accused of—" he squinted at the text, "—excessive flavor surpassing divine norms, and culinary disruption of celestial order."
Li Fan opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Accused of flavor? He risked a glance at Yuechan beside him—his heavenly guide and one sympathetic face in this hall. Yuechan's elegant features remained composed, but her eyes sparkled with restrained mirth. She gave a tiny reassuring nod as if to say stay calm.
The minister continued, voice droning, "Your fried rice at the Peach Banquet caused twelve immortal gourmands to weep in ecstasy, a dragon to surrender a treasured scale for seconds, and the Jade Emperor's pet to go on a hunger strike demanding your recipe. This is highly irregular." He harrumphed. "As a mortal, you have disrupted the Celestial Bureau of Culinary Conventions guidelines, Section 7, Article 12: Mortals shall not surpass celestials in any skill, especially cooking, without proper authorization."
Li Fan's mind flashed back to that fateful banquet where he'd just tried to make a decent meal and ended up turning the Heavenly Realm upside down with a single wok. He hadn't meant to cause trouble. Excessive flavor, indeed! He cleared his throat and spoke up meekly, "I-I'm very sorry, honored immortals. I only cooked as I always do… perhaps with a pinch more garlic than usual." He offered a wobbly smile. Some of the lesser gods in attendance covered their mouths, remembering the sumptuous taste and fighting back drool. The stern minister was unmoved.
At that moment, a scratching sound echoed. An old janitor in dusty gray robes was shambling across the back of the hall, pushing a broom that squeaked with each step. Li Fan recognized the hunched figure with the wispy beard—he'd seen this senile custodian before, muttering to himself while cleaning bird droppings off the palace statues. The janitor obliviously wandered closer, broom scraping right behind Li Fan, interrupting the proceedings.
"Erhem!" The minister scowled. "Janitor, kindly refrain from polishing the floor during the hearing!"
The old janitor paused, leaning on his broom. "Oh, terribly sorry, Your Loftiness," he quavered, voice like creaking wood. "I'll just… shuffle along." But as he turned, his broom handle accidentally whacked Li Fan in the back of the knees. Li Fan yelped, knees buckling. He clutched at the nearest thing for support, which unfortunately was the minister's scroll. The parchment ripped with a horrendous rrrrriiip, sending paper confetti into the air.
A collective gasp rose. Yuechan's hand flew to her mouth. Li Fan found himself hunched over, holding a torn scrap that read "excessive flavor—guilty of deliciousness." The head minister's right eye began to twitch violently.
In the silence, the janitor peered at Li Fan and stage-whispered, "Oopsie." Then with surprising agility, the old man hobbled off, broom in tow, as if nothing had happened.
Li Fan scrambled upright, face burning. "I-I am so sorry, venerable sir! The broom—my knees—" He tried to smooth the shredded scroll pieces back together, which only resulted in papery snowflakes drifting down his hair. It was a scene straight out of a farce: a mortal cook inadvertently showering the highest tribunal in torn paperwork. Somewhere in the back, a minor deity tittered before being elbowed to silence.
The head minister sighed the sigh of a man long resigned to cosmic absurdity. He flicked the remaining scroll aside. "Enough! Mortal Li Fan, clearly your presence here has caused… unprecedented chaos. The Celestial Court cannot simply let you walk free back to the mortal realm with these—these sacred secrets of flavor you possess." He adjusted his spectacles, eyeing Li Fan as if he were an unstable spice bomb.
Another official, a fussy registrar with ink-stained fingers, piped up. "Indeed. We have forms in triplicate that forbid it. Form 38B: Release of Mortal Who Has Tasted Heavenly Delicacies, and Form 39C: Prevention of Unauthorized Enlightenment Dissemination." He rattled off, counting on his fingers. "We'd be here for weeks just doing the paperwork to erase his memories and send him home."
Across the hall, a portly bureaucrat groaned, "Weeks of paperwork? Oh, heavens no." The collective shudder from the officials at mere mention of extra paperwork was palpable. Absurd celestial bureaucracy at its finest: even almighty immortals quailed before endless forms.
Yuechan stepped forward, her silver robe swaying gracefully. "Honored elders," she said politely, "perhaps there is an alternative. Li Fan has shown… unique aptitude. Why not give him a chance to formally earn his place here? Perhaps a trial."
Li Fan's eyes widened. A chance to stay in Heaven? He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse, considering moments like this. But going home would mean giving up the cosmic wok of destiny he'd apparently picked up.
The head minister arched a snowy eyebrow. "A trial, Guide Yuechan? For a mere mortal?"
Yuechan bowed her head, a strand of her dark hair falling over one eye. "If he fails, the problem solves itself. If he succeeds… perhaps he was meant to be here." Her tone was respectful, but Li Fan noticed the subtle determination. She was sticking her neck out for him. A warm flush of gratitude mixed with anxiety in his chest.
The council members murmured among themselves. Some looked intrigued by the notion, others horrified. A skeletal elder with a long white beard sneered, "Heh, what trial could a mortal survive? Folding Dumpling Skins?" A few snickered.
Another younger official, with a sharp nose and an even sharper voice, chimed in, "There is precedent. Mortal heroes of old underwent the Trial of Heavenly Ascent to join the ranks of demigods. Granted, none have attempted it in, oh, the last 3000 years…" He flipped through a dusty ledger, sending a cloud of dust and a lone moth into the air.
The head minister deliberated, fingers drumming on his armrest. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well. Mortal Li Fan, you shall undergo a survival trial designed for divine cultivators: The Crucible of Scion Mountain."
A collective "oooooh" reverberated through the hall. Li Fan gulped. Anything called a "Crucible" didn't sound pleasant.
The minister continued with a thin smile, "It's a rather robust trial. If you truly are favored by the heavens, you might survive. If not—" he gave a what-can-you-do shrug, "—then at least our paperwork load will be reduced."
"Excuse me, uh, Your Eminences," Li Fan squeaked, finding his voice. "What exactly is this trial?"
An excited rustle passed through some of the celestial disciples gathered to watch the fun. Yuechan's brow furrowed slightly in concern. The sharp-nosed official read from a pamphlet titled So You've Decided to Risk Your Life:
Objective: Survive the enchanted wilderness of Scion Mountain for seven days while overcoming various divine-grade challenges (monsters, traps, bad weather, and possibly each other).
Competitors: Disciples and young cultivators from various heavenly sects seeking promotion. Also, one mortal cook (special exception).
Rules: No outside help, no divine artifacts beyond standard issue, and absolutely no poison pill refunds for mortals.
Victory Condition: Retrieve the Jade Lotus blooming at the mountain's peak by week's end. It's the key to proving one's worth.
Rewards: Glory, advancement in rank, a lifetime supply of smugness, etc. (Mortal winners may also receive a complimentary Celestial Residency Permit.)
Li Fan's stomach flipped as he heard the list. Monsters? Traps? Each other? He felt faint. Back in the mortal world, the scariest trial he'd faced was an overcooked eel that nearly burned down his kitchen. Now he had to survive a week in a place designed to chew up budding immortals and spit out bones.
The head minister clapped the ledger shut. "It's settled then! The trial commences at dawn tomorrow." He gave Li Fan a thin, not-quite-reassuring smile. "Best of luck. We'll be rooting for you—well, at least betting on you. The odds of a mortal making it past day one should make for interesting wagers." The other officials nodded eagerly, some already whispering about odds and celestial betting pools.
Before Li Fan could process the mix of dread and indignation, two guards flanked him. Yuechan stepped closer and said softly, "I'll escort Li Fan to prepare." Her tone booked no argument, and the guards, recognizing the authoritative aura of a Heavenly Guide, stepped back.
As Li Fan and Yuechan turned to leave, the old janitor appeared again, seemingly from nowhere, busily scraping gum off a golden pillar. "Good luck, boy," the janitor cackled quietly, giving Li Fan a toothless grin. "Try not to die. I'd hate to mop up what's left." He winked one filmy eye. Li Fan managed a weak laugh, not sure if the janitor was joking.
Yuechan gently took Li Fan by the elbow, guiding him out of the hall as the immortals went back to debating the finer points of trial betting. Once outside in the grand corridor, Li Fan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Guide Yuechan… thank you. I think you saved my hide in there. Though I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse," he said, attempting a wry smile.
Yuechan's face softened. "I couldn't just let them toss you out or execute you over—over fried rice, of all things." Her lips quirked. "Besides, I have a feeling about you, Li Fan. Something tells me you'll surprise them again."
Li Fan blushed faintly at her confidence. Yuechan had a quiet radiance and competence that made even the insane feel manageable. "I'm honestly terrified," he admitted. "Monsters, traps… I have no cultivation! I'm as mortal as mortal gets. They might as well toss a meatbun to a tiger."
They walked down the corridor, passing ornate murals of legendary trials and battles—heroes slaying demons, sages solving cosmic puzzles. Li Fan gulped at how not comedic those looked.
Yuechan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "True, you can't summon lightning or fly on a sword. But you have other strengths." She smiled thoughtfully. "Your creativity, for one. Your resilience. And you have… well, your cooking."
Li Fan chuckled despite himself. "Are the monsters going to sniff my fried rice and die happy?"
Yuechan laughed, a bright sound that echoed in the empty hall. "You never know. The way to a dragon's heart might be through its stomach."
They paused by Li Fan's quarters, a modest guest chamber the Celestial Court had given him (likely because tossing him in the stables would seem too rude after he pleased the Jade Emperor's palate). Yuechan turned to face him, a hint of concern in her eyes. "I'll help however I am allowed. There are some restrictions—Guides aren't supposed to directly interfere in trials." She frowned, clearly displeased with that rule. "But I can at least get you some basic supplies and advice."
Li Fan felt a wave of gratitude. "Honestly, any help is more than I could hope for. I don't even have a weapon—unless my wok counts." He patted the wok slung at his hip. It gleamed faintly with a golden hue, still imbued with leftover celestial cooking energy from the banquet. Well, a trusty wok has solved many problems in my life… maybe it can handle a monster skull or two? he mused.
Yuechan nodded decisively. "Bring the wok. We'll call it a blunt weapon for the trial's sake. I'll fetch you some talismans for warmth, maybe a low-tier defensive charm." She hesitated, then added with a sly smile, "And I'll sneak you some spices. If you must cook out there, you might as well have flavor."
Li Fan grinned, feeling a little of his confidence creep back. As absurd as it all was, knowing Yuechan believed in him made a huge difference. "Thank you, Yuechan. Really."
She waved a hand lightly, a faint pink dusting her cheeks at his earnest gratitude. "It's my duty as your guide," she replied formally, but her eyes were gentle. "Now, get some rest. Tomorrow will be... eventful."
As she turned to depart, Li Fan called out, "Yuechan!" She looked back. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words. "I, uh... I won't let you down. Or, I'll try not to."
Her smile in return was encouraging. "I know." With that, Yuechan glided away down the corridor to make preparations, her silhouette graceful under the lantern light.
Li Fan entered his chamber, heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. On a small table lay the cleaver he'd brought from the mortal realm, and beside it a bowl of leftover fried rice from earlier (even world-shaking chefs get midnight munchies). He picked up the bowl and took a bite for courage. The familiar flavors of soy and scallion steadied him.
"Alright, Li Fan," he whispered to himself. "You've accidentally bested immortals with fried rice. You can survive one ridiculous trial. How hard can it be?"
In the corner, a broom swept by itself with a soft swish swish. The old janitor was just outside humming a bawdy tavern tune as he mopped the halls, utterly off-key. Li Fan shook his head with a tired smile and latched the door. Tomorrow, the Heavenly Realm's most absurd survival challenge awaited, and he, a mere mortal cook, would face it armed with nothing but a wok, some spices, and an uncanny knack for slapstick success.
Outside, the senile janitor paused his tune. Leaning on his mop, he looked toward Li Fan's door with a strange glint in his cloudy eyes. With a chuckle under his breath, the old man resumed his cleaning, whistling a merry, nonsensical melody that echoed through the empty celestial corridors. The stage was set; the Heavenly Realm had no idea what flavor of chaos was coming its way.