This Is Zane’s True Strength!

The lights poured down like a silken veil, instantly bathing the Phoenix in a golden radiance. Its feathers shimmered like burnished gold, each detail sparkling under the glow, making it look less like a dish and more like an exquisite work of art.

Its slender, graceful figure stood proudly, head held high—majestic, noble, untouchable.

"It's glowing…"

"A dish… that actually glows?"

Gin stared at the luminous Phoenix in utter disbelief. The scene defied common sense. It wasn't just visually impressive—it was bordering on the supernatural. For a moment, his thoughts went blank.

But when his gaze drifted to the calm, composed Director sitting across from him, he forced himself to regain composure.

Hmm… could it be? Does the owner possess some kind of unique ability?

Just like how the Director's clothes burst from sheer culinary ecstasy… maybe this guy can make dishes glow?

…

While Gin was still caught up in his wild speculations, the glow from the Crystal Phoenix gradually faded. Zane, ever precise, added a finishing touch of syrup at the "eyes" of the Phoenix. With that, the dish was complete.

A "Soaring Phoenix" had taken form—right there in the tavern.

Up close, the reddish veins on its wings were actually sugar-glazed bean sprouts. The bird's proud body was sculpted from potatoes, its radiant tail feathers crafted from carrots, cabbage, and purple onions.

It was hard to believe such a regal, awe-inspiring dish had come from such humble ingredients.

The entire tavern fell silent, captivated.

Even Gin and the Director—veterans of countless gourmet experiences—couldn't help but marvel.

To be perfectly honest, this dish was built from the simplest of ingredients:

Bean sprouts.

Potatoes.

Carrots.

Cabbage.

Minced meat.

Yet with these alone, Zane had constructed a Phoenix—a divine bird, blazing with beauty. Its crimson tail feathers, green plumage, and lifelike form exuded an overwhelming sense of presence.

Who wouldn't be stunned?

…

"Unbelievable…" Gin murmured. "He's maximizing the potential of every single ingredient."

"The feathers are bean sprouts. The skeletal frame is potato. The tail's made of carrots, cabbage, onions… It's an edible sculpture. A dish with soul."

As an executive chef, Gin's focus naturally drifted to the dish's structure and technique rather than just its appearance. He analyzed it silently, curious why Zane had chosen such specific ingredients and how he achieved this level of refinement.

But no matter how hard he looked, it was impossible to uncover all its secrets with the naked eye.

So, Gin grabbed his chopsticks.

Beside him, the Director also smiled and picked up a portion of bean sprouts.

…

Crunch!

The moment he bit down, a clean, crisp snap echoed in his mouth.

The texture was tender yet elastic—each bite delivering a satisfying, delicate crunch. It was so unexpectedly perfect that Gin paused, stunned.

Watching the Phoenix come together earlier, he'd assumed the taste would be secondary to the aesthetics. But the moment he tasted it, he realized how wrong he'd been.

These weren't just decorative. The bean sprouts had been prepared with astonishing care and subtlety.

Then it hit him.

"Wait… meat?"

"There's… minced meat inside?!"

"No… He couldn't have—did he…? Did he actually stuff minced meat into every single bean sprout?!"

Gin's eyes widened in disbelief.

It was already hard to believe Zane had carved potatoes and assembled a Phoenix from vegetables.

But this?

Stuffing meat into each and every bean sprout?

The workload was insane.

If Zane hadn't prepped in advance, it would've taken hours just to make this dish.

But there was no mistaking it—the flavor, the texture, the way the syrup mingled with the savory meat—it was all real.

A perfect harmony of sweet and savory. Of texture and taste.

On the surface, Crystal Phoenix looked simple. But beneath that surface lay an intricate balance of craftsmanship, culinary instinct, and effort.

It was genius.

…

"Incredible," Gin finally muttered, completely awestruck. "To enhance the texture, he actually stuffed minced meat inside, blanched the sprouts, and then coated them in syrup…"

"No chef would think of doing something like this—let alone go through with it."

Beside him, the Director let out a soft chuckle. "Not minced meat. Minced meat."

Gin blinked. "…Huh?"

The Director leaned back, savoring the lingering flavor on his tongue. "That's the point. It's all in the feeling. This dish doesn't just aim for color, aroma, and taste—it transcends them. It brings out something deeper. Something more emotional."

"The sweetness and tenderness of the sprouts, the warmth of the savory meat, the texture that dances on the tongue…"

The Director closed his eyes, a rare look of contentment on his face.

"Yes… this is it."

"This is Zane's true strength."