You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

The beautifully crafted challenge letter tumbled twice in mid-air.

It landed precisely in the middle of a pile of discarded fruit peels and packaging bags.

The dark red sealing wax stamp was stained with a few drops of sticky vegetable juice.

It has completely lost its original aristocratic air of unapproachability.

Chen Yuan grabbed a cotton wet wipe from the side and slowly wiped away the little bit of dust on his fingertips.

There wasn't even a trace of anger or resentment in his deep eyes.

There is only pure disregard.

In his eyes, those French council members who considered themselves the pinnacle of world cuisine...

They're no different from the vendors in the market who haggle over two cents.

Uncle Fu stood to the side, looking at the letters being thrown into the trash can, and opened his mouth.

In the end, he swallowed his words of advice.

After all, this guy can even leave multinational tech giants worth tens of billions of dollars exposed to the elements.

A few foreigners wielding spatulas are hardly a threat.

however.

The tree wants to be calm and the wind does not stop.

Two days later.

The afternoon sun shone through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the living room of Genting Manor.

Shen Wanzhou was wearing a beige silk loungewear.

Barefoot, I sat cross-legged on the soft Persian carpet.

He was holding a brand-new tablet computer.

I was watching a lighthearted animated film when several bolded trending topics suddenly popped up in the upper right corner of the screen.

These posts are in a striking red.

The title even contained offensive language.

Shen Wanzhou frowned slightly.

A slender, pale finger tapped the screen, switching to the international version of the trending topics page.

Everywhere you look, there are tweets from foreign websites that have been featured on the homepage.

The account that posted the article belonged to those few French Michelin top judges who had been ignored by Chen Yuan.

Because they had not received a response from Chen Yuan in response to the challenge.

These arrogant white old men launched an indiscriminate, map-based attack on Twitter.

"That so-called Chinese culinary master is nothing but a coward who doesn't even dare to accept a challenge."

"That's true. With their food culture that only knows how to use gutter oil at roadside stalls, how could they dare to step into the Royal Theatre in Paris?"

"Aside from piling on some inferior spices, Eastern cuisine simply doesn't deserve to be served on the world's top dining tables."

"It's a disgrace to the history of human cooking that that dragon-scale kitchen knife has fallen into the hands of such a person."

These tweets were reposted by domestic media outlets and accompanied by eye-catching translations.

The comment section below had already exploded.

Netizens across the internet and bigwigs in the domestic catering industry were so angry that they were furiously typing away on their keyboards.

However, relying on the filter of so-called "authentic Western food," the other party's attitude was extremely arrogant.

The more Shen Wanzhou looked at it, the harder she gripped the edge of the tablet with her knuckles.

The fingertips were covered with a bluish-white color due to lack of blood flow.

Two flames instantly ignited in those usually gentle peach blossom eyes.

Her breathing became rapid, and the silk fabric on her chest heaved violently.

Who dares to call her personal butler a coward?

Can you honestly say that the delicious medicinal meals Chen Yuan makes for her every day are made with gutter oil?

These old folks with blue eyes and blond hair probably have never seen real money before!

A crisp "snap" sound.

She slammed the tablet down onto the marble coffee table.

The screen flickered twice and then went dark.

Shen Wanzhou suddenly stood up.

Without even putting on shoes, he rushed towards the restaurant, stepping on the carpet.

"Uncle Fu!"

The crisp sound carried an undisguised annoyance.

"Go and notify the overseas venture capital department!"

She walked along, issuing instructions loudly.

"Find out all the restaurants owned by these French people who tweeted."

"Whether in Paris or New York."

"Buy the land right across from them and build ten stores that are even bigger than theirs!"

"No need to worry about costs, we'll give away free steamed buns and fried dough sticks every day."

"I'm going to use money to smash their entire store so they can't even sell a slice of bread!"

This statement is completely irrational and purely a way to vent anger over money.

Wandering through the empty living room.

Uncle Fu had just come out of the kitchen carrying a plate of sliced ​​fruit when he heard these words and almost strained his back.

This young lady's tendency to be overly protective of her own is getting worse and worse.

I wouldn't even dare step on an ant normally.

Now, for Mr. Chen's sake, they're willing to spend tens of billions to ruin people's livelihoods across borders at the drop of a hat.

"Calm down."

A deep, mellow voice sounded behind Shen Wanzhou.

Chen Yuan had already left the kitchen at some point.

Holding a glass of freshly squeezed, warm carrot and apple juice.

He strode over and walked a few steps to Shen Wanzhou.

His tall and imposing figure cast her entirely in his shadow.

He then grabbed her arm, which was trembling slightly with anger.

Shen Wanzhou turned her head, her eyes red and swollen.

It looks like a cat whose tail has been stepped on and whose fur has stood on end.

"They insulted you! What right do they have to insult you!"

She bit her lower lip, her voice filled with deep grievance and indignation.

"Your cooking is the best in the world, they don't know anything!"

"I'll bankrupt them, I'll make them beg on the streets!"

Chen Yuan looked at her, seeing her baring her teeth and brandishing her claws for his sake.

A soft, unyielding light shone from the depths of his eyes.

He raised his large, well-defined hand.

His warm fingertips gently rubbed against the corner of her eye.

"Using money to throw at them is too easy on them."

Chen Yuan's voice was calm and composed, carrying an air of complete control.

He shoved the juice glass into Shen Wanzhou's hand.

"After you finish this juice, go upstairs for a nap."

"But they..."

Shen Wanzhou was about to say something when Chen Yuan interrupted her.

"Some rules can only be learned by teaching them personally on their own turf."

Chen Yuan turned his head and looked at Uncle Fu standing to the side.

"Uncle Fu, arrange a private plane to Paris."

Uncle Fu was stunned for a moment, then his eyes lit up.

"Mr. Chen, have you decided to accept the challenge?"

Chen Yuan didn't say anything, but walked to the kitchen counter.

Open the drawer.

He took out the ordinary plastic bag that was used to hold the fruit.

Inside the plastic bag.

That "Dragon Scale" chef's knife, which the Michelin-starred chef considers a sacred object and was forged from extraterrestrial meteorite iron.

It was lying quietly next to a pile of peeled apples.

The blade was jet black, gleaming with a chilling blue light.

Chen Yuan reached out and pulled the peerless sword out of the plastic bag.

The fingers with distinct knuckles gripped the knife handle.

With a slight twist of his wrist.

The blade sliced ​​through the air with a low, sickening hum.

Chen Yuan picked up the "Dragon Scale" kitchen knife he used to peel apples, his dark eyes cold: "Since foreigners don't understand reason, then use this knife to teach them the rules."