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

The encrypted signals from the dark web traveled along undersea fiber optic cables and resonated in the presidential suite of a top-tier Parisian manor hotel.

Xiao Liu's voice carried the crisp metallic sound of keyboard typing.

Chen Yuan leaned against the large leather headboard.

His large, well-defined hand held the specially made, pure black phone.

The cold, bluish light from the screen failed to stir even the slightest ripple in his eyes.

He did not respond.

He decisively pressed the red hang-up button with his thumb.

beep.

The call was disconnected, and the screen went dark instantly.

Chen Yuan casually tossed his phone onto the thick Persian carpet.

It emitted a slight muffled sound.

What about the craze for European cuisine, what about the dignitaries who chartered planes to come?

For him, even listening to an extra syllable is a waste of time.

His gaze shifted half an inch, then returned to his side.

Shen Wanzhou lay on her side, half of her cheek deeply sunk into the soft velvet pillow.

His breathing was steady and long, spraying onto Chen Yuan's collarbone, bringing a delicate warmth.

Her fair and delicate hand emerged from under the silk quilt.

Unconsciously, her fingertips tugged at the fabric of Chen Yuan's cotton pajamas, creating a small crease.

Under the dim wall lamp, Chen Yuan's eyes and brows completely lost the ruthless aura he usually exuded in the business world.

He extended his rough fingertips.

He carefully brushed away a stray strand of hair that was stuck to her forehead.

They moved so gently they were afraid of startling the fallen leaves outside the window.

She slept soundly, which was more reassuring than winning the title of the world's best chef.

The next morning.

The fog in Paris had not yet been dispelled by the breeze along the Seine.

Outside the manor hotel at the end of the Champs-Élysées, an absurd riot had already broken out.

There was no romantic coffee aroma in the air.

The only sounds were the deep rumble of the engine and the screeching of shoes against the floor tiles.

More than a dozen helicopters bearing the logos of private conglomerates forcibly landed on a nearby open space.

The rotor blades swirled up golden sycamore leaves scattered on the ground.

In front of the wrought iron gate outside the hotel.

Hundreds of people were blocking the way.

This group of people were not wearing suits and ties.

They were all dressed in crisp, white double-breasted chef uniforms.

On the front of the garment, one, two, or even three dazzling six-pointed stars were embroidered with gold thread.

On ordinary days, they are frequent guests at banquets hosted by dignitaries from various countries.

He is a culinary master whose ability to make diners queue for half a year just by casually slicing truffles.

But at the moment.

These emperors wielded immense power in the kitchen.

Like middle-aged women scrambling for fresh vegetables at a farmers' market.

Despite their noses turning red from the 7-degree cold wind, they stubbornly remained at the bottom of the steps, refusing to budge an inch.

"Don't push! I flew in overnight from London!"

"Get out of the way! I've brought the exclusive supply rights for Alba white truffles!"

Arguments in various languages ​​mingled in the cold fog.

Eagle led thirty elite security personnel dressed in black tactical vests.

A dense wall of people was erected above the steps.

The muscles on the eagle's scarred face twitched twice.

He reached for the baton at his waist.

He had plenty of ways to deal with mercenaries, but he was no match for this group of foreign old men wielding spatulas.

For the first time, he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Click".

The heavy revolving glass doors of the hotel lobby were pushed open by a waiter.

The sound of metal hinges turning instantly silenced all the noise outside the door.

Hundreds of pairs of green eyes turned in unison to the top of the steps.

Chen Yuan put one hand in the pocket of his black trench coat.

Step out of the light and shadow with steady steps.

With his other hand, he held the girl beside him tightly with all ten fingers.

Shen Wanzhou was wearing a soft beige knitted long dress.

She wore Chen Yuan's warm cashmere coat draped over her shoulders.

As soon as she stepped out of the lobby of Hengwen, the cold wind made her shiver.

Immediately afterwards, the overwhelming crowd and fervent gazes below the steps crashed directly into her peach blossom eyes.

Her breath hitched.

The small hands that Chen Yuan was holding tightened instantly.

The knuckles were pale and bluish from lack of blood flow, and the toes were cramped and curled up inside the soft-soled shoes.

She instinctively took half a step back, hiding half her body in the shadow of Chen Yuan's broad back.

Chen Yuan noticed a tremor coming from his palm.

A layer of icy coldness instantly gathered in his deep black eyes.

He stretched out his long arms.

He pulled Shen Wanzhou directly into his strong embrace.

Its towering body completely blocked the probing gazes.

"thump!"

Before Chen Yuan could even step down the first step...

French chef Alain, who was standing at the front of the crowd, suddenly felt his knees buckle.

He knelt firmly on the cold, damp granite.

This was like toppling a domino effect.

"Thump! Thump!"

The sea of ​​white chefs below the steps suddenly appeared half a head shorter.

Hundreds of Michelin-starred chefs knelt on one knee in front of an Asian man on the streets of Paris.

"Mr. Chen! Please accept me!"

Alan held up an antique kitchen knife made of pure silver in both hands.

His voice trembled and became distorted, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I didn't sleep a wink last night! The knife skills used to make that bowl of Wensi Tofu were truly a masterpiece!"

"If you're willing to give me some pointers, I'll transfer all five of my three-Michelin-starred restaurants on the Champs-Élysées to your name free of charge!"

Beside him, an Italian chef with a full head of blond hair crawled on his knees for two steps.

My knee scraped a water stain on the stone slab.

He held a gold-embossed leather document bag high in the air with both hands.

"Master Chen! I am a descendant of the Tuscan family!"

He spoke in broken Chinese, spitting as he spoke in his haste.

"This is the land deed for a 16th-century castle we own in Florence!"

"Behind the castle lies a 2,000-acre top-quality vineyard!"

"As long as you teach me the recipe for purifying that pot of clear broth, I'll immediately transfer all of this to your wife's name!"

"I'll offer three estates in Madrid!"

"I'll give you the entire seafood shipping route from Northern Europe!"

Shouts and screams erupted all over the hotel.

These titans of the Western culinary world, whose words carry weight, had their eyes shining at that moment.

It's like a pack of wolves that's been starving for ten days, seeing the fattest, freshest meat.

They are willing to use the wealth they have accumulated over half a lifetime.

To exchange for that Eastern man's sword strike that defied mortal comprehension.

Chen Yuan's brows were furrowed tightly.

The irritation in his eyes transformed into a tangible aura of menace, spreading down the steps.

He didn't look at the land deeds or the antique kitchen knives.

All those things combined wouldn't even amount to a second of his earnings on the dark web.

He only felt it.

Shen Wanzhou, nestled in her arms, wrinkled her nose at the shrill shouts.

She buried her face in the fabric of his trench coat.

It blocks the strong smell of hairspray and cheap perfume that drifts in with the wind.

Her fingers were unconsciously fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Get out of the way."

Chen Yuan's voice was cold and hard as iron.

With an undeniable penetrating power, it overwhelmed the clamor of the more than one hundred people.

He embraced Shen Wanzhou and continued walking down the street.

But the chefs, caught up in their frenzy, simply wouldn't listen to reason.

A young Michelin two-star chef from Spain, relying on his youth and strength.

He suddenly squeezed out from the pile of white-robed people in the back row.

"Mr. Chen! I have come with the sincerity of all of Spain!"

He was waving a blank check filled with numbers in his hand.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he pushed forward with all his might.

The movement was too large, and his shoulder directly slammed into the outermost layer of security personnel set up by the Eagles.

The waving check made a whooshing sound in the wind.

It was about to brush against the hem of Shen Wanzhou's skirt as it fluttered down.

This time.

This completely touched Chen Yuan's absolute sore spot.

The temperature in his dark eyes dropped to below zero.

The surrounding air seemed to have been sucked away instantly.

Eagle didn't even have time to pull out the baton from his waist.

Chen Yuan put his arm around Shen Wanzhou's waist and pulled her back half an inch.

Steadily protect her center of gravity.

Immediately afterwards, his right leg shot up with a sharp whistling sound as it tore through the air.

The pure black, handcrafted leather shoes vanished as a fleeting shadow.

It landed squarely on the chest of that famous Spanish chef.

"Bang!"

The dull thud of bones breaking echoed on the hard granite steps.

The chef didn't even manage to scream.

He was hit by a truck, his feet left the ground, and he flew more than two meters away.

It crashed heavily, knocking over a large group of white figures kneeling behind it.

Men and horses were thrown about, and cries of agony filled the air.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

The chefs who had been shouting enthusiastically just moments before froze on the spot, not even daring to pick up the checks that had rolled to their feet.

Chen Yuan, his face cold, kicked aside the Michelin-starred chef blocking his way: "Want to become my apprentice? Get lost. I only pass on my skills to my wife's stomach. You don't even have the right to smell them."