There’s an odd fellow in Qingshui Town named Li Dashao.
While others practice martial arts, he cooks. While others fight over treasures, he opens a shop. The whole martial world is caught up in cutthroat competition, but he just lies flat and takes it easy. Hidden in his family’s ancestral kitchen are a blade that can slay demons, an indestructible wok, and a spatula that can befuddle the mind. His biggest worry is that he put too much salt in today’s braised pork.
A Sword Immortal eats his egg fried rice and loses faith in the Dao. A demon lord drinks his soup and gives up his wicked ways. The Qingcheng Sect Master refuses to leave the shop after trying a plate of saliva chicken. A female constable from the Six Fan Gate comes to investigate a case, but ends up washing dishes until she no longer wants to return to the capital.
Li Dashao looks at the line of martial world bigwigs outside his shop and falls into thought. “I just want to cook in peace. How did I become a legend of the martial world?”
Then one day, he finds a yellowed recipe among his grandfather’s belongings. On the back, a line of tiny writing reads: “I put in half a qian less again today. Dashao’s father ought to learn to tie his own shoelaces. I wonder if we’ve run out of pickles at home.”
It turns out the old man hunted by the martial world once used the very same wok to make pills that killed, and soup that saved lives. What Li Dashao has to do isn’t seek revenge, but carry on simmering that pot of soup for his grandfather.
