Cloud Dragon Fried Shrimp

"How… how could I lose?! And to these losers?!"

Hearing Judge Wang Hai's verdict, Saito collapsed to his knees, staring disbelievingly at the brutal 3-0 score glaring from the screen.

For this decisive showdown, he'd poured every ounce of effort into perfecting every facet of his dish.

Yet…

The stark numbers on the display filled him with despair. Where had it gone wrong? How had he lost so utterly?

That insignificant dropout he'd looked down on… how could he surpass him in cooking?!

"Your arrogance blinded you," Soma Yukihira stated, looking down at the kneeling figure with undisguised scorn. "You knew frying was my specialty, yet you challenged me here. Your defeat was inevitable."

A year ago, their duel's theme had been "Fried Dishes." Back then, Soma lost, his frying skills insufficient.

Since that day, he'd become obsessed. He trained relentlessly, mastering fried cuisine, fueled by the desire for redemption.

The cost? Neglecting all other cooking styles, plummeting him to the bottom ranks.

During the midterm's wilderness survival challenge, others experimented freely. But Soma, reliant on frying, struggled without ample oil reserves.

He resorted to pan-frying as a substitute, but the difference was night and day.

He failed spectacularly, scoring a dismal 14 points. Joining the ranks of the "dropouts," he was sent up the mountain alongside Dylan.

Twenty-five days of hellish training forced him to forget frying. He revisited neglected fundamentals.

Grinding through brutal basics, he patched his weaknesses. Returning to fried cuisine, he saw it with new eyes.

Integrating his hard-won knowledge elevated his skills. Now, in fried dishes alone, he feared no second-year!

So, when Saito arrogantly challenged him with "Fried Cuisine" as the theme, Soma knew victory was assured.

"A masterful display!" Takumi Aldini stepped forward, applauding as he moved between the two groups, his gaze settling on Senzaemon Nakiri. "Your fried cuisine surpasses even my expectations. Saito truly walked into that one."

Serves the clown right, Soma thought silently.

As Takumi spoke, both sides focused on him, anticipating his next words.

"I'd relish facing you now, Soma," Takumi said, tucking the midterm rulebook into his pocket. "But our point gap is too vast. Even a ranking match isn't feasible yet. Earn enough points first, then challenge me."

His eyes held no trace of condescension. After Soma's performance, Takumi saw him as a genuine threat. Underestimating these former dropouts would be disastrous.

"You're right. I overlooked that," Soma conceded. "My current points disqualify me. Very well. Let's settle this on the final day. Ensure you stay undefeated until then."

Soma scanned the crowd, his eyes quickly finding his next target.

"Satoshi Isshiki!" he called out, spotting the lanky figure who'd been watching him intently, expression complex. "Your rank here isn't high, is it? Perfect. Become my stepping stone!"

"Tch. Still as cocky as ever," Isshiki chuckled, a familiar grin spreading as he stepped into the center. "Challenge accepted. But not a ranking match – a Shokugeki. Winner takes all the loser's points. I'm out regardless. Carry my ambition forward."

Soma's expression flickered, hesitation clear, but he nodded solemnly. "Understood. Shokugeki it is."

Unlike restricted ranking challenges, Shokugeki at Totsuki required only mutually agreed stakes of equal value. Their wager – all accumulated points – was valid under midterm rules.

"Yoshino Yuuki! Time to settle our score! Quit hiding and face me!" Another dropout stepped forward, pointing at an opponent across the room.

"Nakamura! You always wanted a match? Here's your chance! Wager your points!" Another challenger emerged, a arrogance grin aimed at his target.

"Sasaki…"

Inspired by Soma, the dropout brigade mobilized. One by one, they stepped up, challenging students with lower ranks.

Their individual points were meager, but each victory doubled their haul.

Starting from just one point, ten consecutive wins would yield a thousand points.

A thousand points catapulted them into the coveted "Heavenly King" tier. Crucially, no one below that rank could refuse a challenge from a Heavenly King or higher – barring voluntary withdrawal.

"Lower-ranked students cannot refuse challenges from those above! Rank matches will continue until 10 PM tonight!" Judge Wang Hai's voice cut through the murmurs, silencing any thoughts of refusal. "Refusal after warning warrants immediate expulsion under midterm regulations."

Elsewhere, in the kitchen…

"Ahh~!"

Ikumi Mito's body arched, a deep flush spreading across her skin. Trembling, her fingers gripped the counter's edge as an incomprehensible moan escaped her lips.

"Reaching… the pinnacle!" Miyoko Hojo gasped, fingers brushing her collarbone. Her head tilted back, eyes glazed and watery, mind shattered by sheer deliciousness.

"Incredible, Chef Dylan!" Huang Yun breathed, cheeks flushed but composed as a former Special Class chef tempered by the Dark Cuisine Society. "Even an impromptu dish reaches heights others can only dream of!" Her slightly ragged breath betrayed the dish's power.

"Do we have lobster?" Dylan asked abruptly, pausing from his tempura work as inspiration struck.

"No lobster, Chef. Only standard shrimp," Huang Yun replied promptly.

"Call for delivery. Get me lobster within thirty minutes. Bring me the regular shrimp for now." Dylan's command was direct.

"Understood." Huang Yun's blush vanished, replaced by focused determination. She moved aside to contact the fresh produce division immediately. A leader's order was absolute – a vow sworn upon joining the Dark Cuisine Society. Life itself was the price for failure.

"We proceed." Ikumi swiftly presented Black Tiger shrimp. Dylan took them smoothly.

All other ingredients were on hand. Holding the shrimp, Dylan surveyed the expectant faces behind him.

"Good mood today," he announced. "I'll teach you a special fried shrimp. Pay attention! You learn the dish, but grasp the thought and method. That's true growth." His gaze lingered on the flushed faces.

"Special Fried Shrimp?"

"I'm in!"

"Focus on the thinking… Got it!"

Excitement rippled through the group. Whatever Dylan created was exceptional. If he called it 'special,' it promised something extraordinary.

"Step one: Prep the shrimp. Remove head and shell, keep tail attached to the meat. Ensures pure flavor." Dylan's Seven Stars Knife flashed.

Ikumi blinked. The live shrimp were instantly decapitated, deveined, and shelled, leaving only the tail-attached meat on the plate.

"Seven Stars Speed Cut." Dylan exhaled, shifting focus to the remaining live shrimp.

He tapped the counter. Shrimp flew into the air, propelled by unseen force.

A silver streak arced through the air. They landed back on the pristine plate – not lifeless, but astonishingly vibrant, tails thrashing for several seconds before finally stilling.

"Moving… after death?!" Yoshino Yuuki gasped, her knowledge of biology shattered. Invertebrates shouldn't do that!

"That's nothing," Ikumi boasted, pride swelling. "Chef Dylan once fileted a swimming fish at blinding speed. The slices landed on the plate while the fish swam on, unaware for moments before it realized… it was gone."

"Fileting a live, swimming fish?! Impossible!" Ryoko Sakaki finally spoke, disbelief etched on her face.

"With Chef Dylan, nothing is impossible," Ikumi countered, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"Look! Chef's moving again!" someone whispered.

Silence fell. All eyes locked onto Dylan's hands.

He gestured. Dozens of water-soaked tofu skins, each roughly four inches square, appeared, covering the workspace.

"Sauce is flexible. Choose flavors you like. Mine: egg yolk, lemon juice, sugar, pinch of salt, touch of cream. Creates a smooth, rich mayonnaise – perfect for seafood." Dylan grabbed chopsticks, whisking the mixture clockwise at blinding speed. A mixer would have been slower.

"Add oil gradually. Ten additions. Whisk until inseparable." He alternated whisking and drizzling oil ten times, then piped the sauce into a piping bag and chilled it.

Next: the nut coating. Dylan chose cashews, almonds, walnuts, and macadamias. He spread them out and crushed them finely with a rolling pin. The size was critical – too large, texture suffers; too fine, loses crunch, worse than breadcrumbs.

Assembly: A tofu skin square. A layer of fragrant, pale yellow sauce. A peeled Black Tiger shrimp (tail on). Wrapped tightly, secured with a toothpick.

Then, brushed with egg wash, coated evenly with nut crumbs. Into hot oil (350°F/180°C) for a quick fry.

Instantly, rich fragrance filled the air. Dylan inhaled deeply, savoring it.

He sensed the perfect moment. Tongs flashed, retrieving the golden parcels onto a serving dish. Their surface shimmered with an ethereal sheen under the lights, captivating everyone.

"Taste it," Dylan invited, smiling at the eager faces. "Cloud Dragon Fried Shrimp – Black Tiger Edition."

"Gulp! Don't mind if I do!" Ikumi, closest, grabbed one. She bit in, savoring.

Crisp, succulent shrimp. Rich, enveloping sauce. Savory tofu skin. Crunchy nut coating. Flavors exploded in harmony.

The creamy texture was irresistible. Before she knew it, the whole shrimp was gone.

"The sauce! So smooth! Egg yolk, lemon, touch of cream… it complements the seafood perfectly!" Ryoko praised, then staggered. While she'd held firm earlier, this dish overwhelmed her. Heat surged through her, legs weakening. She swayed, unprepared to catch herself.

Dylan, one hand still cooking, saw her plight. To prevent an embarrassing fall, he swiftly caught her waist.

His touch sent fresh waves of heat through her already flushed body. Weakness spread from her core and his supporting hand. Instinctively, she clutched his shirt.

Girls certainly develop beautifully, Dylan mused internally, his face impassive. The softness pressed against him was undeniably pleasant. He'd held many beauties, some curvier than Ryoko. But that only heightened his appreciation for each unique allure. Like fine cuisine – one masterpiece doesn't preclude savoring others.

"S-sorry, Chef Dylan…" Ryoko stammered, lifting her crimson face. She tried to pull away, but her body refused, trembling weakly.

"No apology needed. Catch your breath. No rush to escape." A playful glint entered Dylan's eyes. Her mature, gentle aura was intriguing. Seeing her dazed, watery gaze, he couldn't resist teasing. He picked up another Cloud Dragon Shrimp, holding it near her lips. "Need help?"

"I…" Ryoko started to refuse, but…

"Gulp."

Despite the blush and the sheer embarrassment of being fed… the divine aroma was irresistible. Her lips parted. Eyes glazed, she accepted the bite.

CRUNCH! The nut coating delivered deep, satisfying richness.

SILKY SMOOTH! Warm mayonnaise melded with fried nuts and the tender, springy shrimp. Flavors cascaded over her senses.

"This… feeling!" Ryoko's mind blanked. A fresh wave of intense heat surged from her core. Her thighs clenched involuntarily. Her face flushed a deep, vivid scarlet.

_____

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