Era: You're asked to cook a home-style dish, but you cook Wellington.

"Hmm, then tell me why you've given up so easily?"

Zhou Feihu had a toothpick in his mouth, arms crossed, and legs shaking.

He glanced back and asked with a disdainful look.

"Brothers, he said he gave up after eating Erzhuzi's food. Do you agree?"

"I disagree. What kind of slander is this? He's supposed to be a chef! This is blatant defamation!"

"That's right, the preparation steps and seasoning ratios are exactly the same, so why does he say Erzhuzi's food is garbage?"

"This kind of manipulative person should be killed to save us the trouble of him wasting our time!"

The more these people said, the more unpleasant it became, making Gao Yang's side somewhat insecure.

"Chef Gao, you see, we're all from a small town, do you really think we can win?"

One of the waitresses was the first to break down.

She stared intently at the two dishes, unable to discern any difference. It was only when an older woman took her hand that the young girl calmed down slightly.

"It's alright, trust Chef Gao."

Everyone stared straight at it.

Gao Yang remained seated, while Zhou Feihu, sitting opposite him, seemed unsteady on his feet.

Looking at the two plates of steaming hot boiled prawns, and then at Gao Yang's calm and composed demeanor, a hint of hesitation appeared on his face.

"Alright, try it, don't waste any more time."

Between the two sides, there were seventy or eighty people staring at each other in this kitchen.

The situation on the field froze for a moment.

Zhou Feihu didn't believe for a second that there was a difference in cooking skills between the two sides. He strode to the table and snorted coldly.

"I hope your dishes will bring me some surprises as well."

After saying that, he picked up his chopsticks, grabbed the boiled shrimp that Erzhuzi had made, and stuffed it into his mouth.

He slowly chewed a few bites, a smug look appearing in his eyes. He put down his chopsticks, patted Erzhuzi on the shoulder, and loudly explained to everyone.

"Look closely, and taste this! The shrimp is perfectly seasoned, the spices are fresh and fragrant, and the cooking time is just right. The shrimp's freshness is locked inside—this is the skill of a true chef!"

"Look how well these shrimp are cooked! They're vibrant in color, firm in texture, and flavorful in every bite. The steps are perfect, the seasoning ratios are just right, and the heat is controlled flawlessly!"

His eyebrows flew with smugness, and he became more and more arrogant as he spoke. He turned his head and glanced disdainfully at the shrimp that Lao Zhou had made, not even wanting to touch it.

"And look at what you've made! There's no plating at all, just bland, tasteless soup. How dare you compare it to anything else?"

"It has no color, aroma, or taste whatsoever. I don't even need to taste it to know that this dish is utterly unpresentable. Compared to Erzhuzi's cooking, it's far inferior!"

After saying that, he crossed his arms and looked at Gao Yang and the others with a confident expression, just waiting to see them admit defeat.

Upon hearing Zhou Feihu's words, Gao Yang's reaction was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

They understood that once they lost the game, they would have to go back to those small places and continue wasting their lives.

They were truly unwilling and resentful, but what could they do about the outcome?

Gao Yang looked at the group of people looking dejected, shook his head slightly, and stood up.

"Zhou Feihu, you draw conclusions without even tasting it? Is this the level of the Su family's master chef?"

Zhou Feihu's face darkened, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"I need to taste it? I can tell at a glance whether it's good or bad!"

"Yeah?"

Gao Yang raised his hand, picked up a shrimp that Lao Zhou had made with the serving chopsticks, and handed it to him.

"Then why don't you try it? If you try it first and then lose, you'll lose more willingly."

The surroundings immediately fell silent.

All eyes were on the bright red shrimp.

Zhou Feihu was stuck in place, unable to get off the tiger.

He glanced at Gao Yang's confident expression, a sense of foreboding flashing through his mind, then looked at his brothers who were with him.

"Damn it, I refuse to believe this guy can do better than Erzhuzi!"

He steeled himself, stiffened his neck, snatched the chopsticks, picked up a chopstick, and stuffed it into his mouth, his face full of defiance.

But as soon as he took a bite, his face froze.

The shrimp meat is springy and tender, with a satisfying crunch, and the fresh juices burst in your mouth, leaving a refreshing and not greasy feeling.

Without any extra spices, it perfectly locks in the natural sweetness of the river shrimp, and one bite fills your mouth with the fresh taste of the sea.

Although Erzhuzi's previous game was excellent, it was worlds apart from this one.

This plate of boiled prawns was definitely among the top three of all the prawn dishes he had ever tasted in his life.

The umami flavor lingered in his mouth, and the rich aroma was like a boxer ready to pounce, relentlessly striking his taste buds.

He couldn't understand why there was such a difference when the ingredients, methods, and even the time were almost identical.

Zhou Feihu couldn't swallow the shrimp meat in his mouth any longer.

He stood frozen in place, the smugness on his face gradually fading, from bright red to pale.

"What's wrong? Give me your opinion. Didn't you say you looked down on the food from our little stalls?"

Zhou Feihu was speechless, standing there frozen, veins bulging on his forehead.

A younger brother next to him didn't understand and came over to ask.

"Tiger, how's it going? Not so great either?"

"Shut up!"

Zhou Feihu let out a low roar and slammed his chopsticks on the table.

He lost.

We lost clearly and decisively.

The kitchen was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was staring at Zhou Feihu, waiting for him to speak.

But his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Gao Yang stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, his voice firm and resolute.

"The point of boiled shrimp is to enjoy its natural flavor, not to pile on seasonings. You must think that all the steps are the same, so you assume that your own chef will win, right?"

"Let me tell you this: different people do things in completely different ways. Erzhuzi is very capable. His movements are flashy, his plating is exquisite, and he has become one of your top generals at a young age."

"But you didn't realize that Lao Zhou has been dealing with fish and shrimp for over a decade. When he cooks shrimp, he puts them in as soon as the water boils, takes them out as soon as they're just cooked, and then chills them in ice water to make them crisp, all to lock in the freshest taste of the shrimp."

"Your cooking is a performance, only Lao Zhou truly lives up to the expectations of the ingredients and the diners."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Feihu's brothers lowered their heads, their earlier arrogance completely gone, and their faces flushed red.

The people on Gao Yang's side slowly raised their heads, their dejection completely disappearing, replaced by a burning light.

The young waitress clenched her fists, a smile involuntarily creeping onto her face. The older woman beside her also breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes filled with satisfaction.

Old Zhou stood to the side, scratching his head with a simple and honest expression, finally feeling relieved.

Zhou Feihu's face turned pale and then red, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He was filled with resentment, yet powerless to refute it.

"Alright, a bet's a bet. Leave your set of knives here, and you and your men can go."

Zhou Feihu stared intently at the seemingly ordinary plate of boiled shrimp on the cutting board, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and frustration.

He lost, and he lost to a group of low-level artisans he looked down on. He couldn't swallow this insult, but he couldn't find any reason to argue against it.

He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips trembling as he stroked the knife case at his waist. The set of top-quality kitchen knives that had been with him for over a decade now felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

The gazes around him were like needles piercing him, some mocking, some sighing, but mostly filled with the triumphant confidence of Gao Yang's group. Every glance reminded him that he had lost completely.

After a long while, he suddenly closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, took off the knife bag, and slammed it hard on the cutting board. The sound of the metal blades colliding was particularly jarring in the quiet kitchen.

"Don't think you've won. Let me tell you, I have General Manager Jianming behind me. He'll get justice for me!"

Zhou Feihu stared fiercely at Gao Yang, as if he wanted to devour him.

Gao Yang narrowed his eyes slightly.

There's not a single person in the Su family who's easy to deal with.

He was about to speak when he heard a clear, crisp voice.

"Jianming? Are you talking about Su Jianming? He's in dire straits himself now."