It is said that at the beginning, all life could emerge from the water.
In the scholars' vision, it requires a barren planet, a vast ocean, intense heat and endless rainfall, and millions of years.
In the heat and humid air, the ocean boils ceaselessly, gradually cools, and then the most basic prokaryotic cells are born from the most primitive chemicals.
This is the origin of life.
At that time, all things emerge from this primitive soup, and thus survive, develop, and grow...
Perhaps the scholars are right, and it is indeed possible for life to be born this way.
Unfortunately, Guo ShouQue never got to see it.
Even if he ventures into the ranch owner's domain, deep beneath the Paradise of Bliss into the Abyss, he finds no soil sufficient to create life.
Ultimately, all he gets is this wreck that had already failed to nurture life millions of years ago.
A pot of decayed primitive soup.
What should have brought the miracle of life has now turned into a disaster that devours all vitality, a peril and a hidden danger without exception.
Anyone with a conscience should destroy it immediately.
But unfortunately, Guo ShouQue lacks such a thing.
On the contrary, from the first moment... he is intoxicated by this 'soup base' that remains so lively even after tens of thousands of years of boiling.
It is so beautiful—
Even if it is dead and failed, how fascinating is the decayed state preserved within, how adorable is the curse and grudge of its unborn destruction.
Not the result of artifice, but a naturally perfect crystal.
This purity, how enthralling it is.
It's just like a... miracle!
And now, the miracle descends upon Kanda Soramakoto, gently and inclusively stretching out countless palms for an embrace.
The bamboo basket trembles violently, shedding the shattered outer strips to reveal a jade-white texture and cracks, an ancient and solemn aura flashes in the gaps, then returns to silence.
The bamboo basket continues to shake.
At first, the roar can be heard, then faint rebukes and howls, with thunderbolt struggling angrily, pulling at the edge of the basket, but unable to push open the sky dome's lid and escape.
From the moment Guo ShouQue spoke his name and he responded, all this was already destined.
Now, continuous cracks appear on Guo ShouQue's face and body, underneath the scorch marks left by the thunderbolt, one eye after another opens, looking down on him with indifferent malice and mockery, disdainfully.
Until finally, the wailing sound disappears.
A strange fragrance rises.
In the swirling fragrance, the scars and eyes on Guo ShouQue's body slowly close and vanish.
Whether inside the jade bottle or bamboo basket, only the sound of boiling remains.
A wisp of white mist rises slowly from the gap, transformed into a miraculous scene of dancing immortals and scattering celestial flowers, simple vitality spreads.
With a deep breath, a satisfying moan erupts.
The soup is finally cooked.
Guo ShouQue smiles, lifts the lid, and looks down. In the clear soup inside the container, there is only a broken taiko drum floating slowly.
Taking a spoon, he filters out the debris and casually tosses it aside.
Guo ShouQue admires the clear soup in the pot, smiling brightly: it's been so long since he last encountered such beautiful ingredients, otherwise he wouldn't be able to make such a perfect old soup.
It's just a pity, something's still missing...
He thinks for a moment, rummages through the box, finds a cabbage, rinses it, tears off a leaf, and throws it into the pot.
Admiring the cabbage leaf, bobbing in the clear soup, Guo ShouQue nods in satisfaction.
This is the authentic taste!
Perfect!
.
.
When the distant thunder ceases.
The snowstorm finally dissipates.
Accompanied by the shattering of countless ice columns, a fierce long knife crosses forty meters, hovering at Vladimir's throat. The sharp tip gently touches his carotid artery.
After the cracks of ice walls and giant columns, a cold voice is heard.
"The work is over, Vladimir."
Vladimir leans against the wall, cracks appear on his face and shell—as Frost Father's divine nature gradually fades, the immense power is ultimately squandered.
Gradually, returned to original form.
The power gained temporarily through Chef Demon skills cannot be maintained for long; once digested, Frost Father's earthly foundation will collapse—the power will return to the eternal frozen wasteland, waiting for the next summoning. Perhaps there won't be a next time, but the eternal miracle wandering on the ice field doesn't care.