Without powerful cultivators as a backbone, a place like Drunk Cloud Restaurant would be nothing more than a gathering spot for cooks—at best, a royal kitchen for the palace.

  But with elite backing, it transformed into a lucrative empire with branches in every major city. Financial wealth allowed them to recruit even more cultivators, creating a cycle where their influence grew alongside their menu. While the Cloud Mist City branch was just one of many, its status was still formidable.

  Han Ming, as the Young Master of this branch, naturally held himself in high regard.

  The conflict had started yesterday. During a routine inspection, Han Ming overheard customers complaining. They asked why Drunk Cloud’s delicacies couldn't even compare to the snacks from a tiny shop, even claiming the restaurant's food was becoming "unpalatable."

  Stung by the insult, Han Ming personally tasted every dish in the kitchen before tracking down the source of these rumors. As far as he was concerned, Drunk Cloud’s culinary mastery was its foundation. He refused to believe anything more delicious existed; those troublemakers had to be paid actors sent by a rival business to ruin his reputation.

  "You sent people to my restaurant yesterday to call our food 'trash,'" Han Ming said, his voice sharp and aggressive. He scanned the interior with a sneer. "I’m here today to see what 'delicacies' you could possibly have that outshine Drunk Cloud."

  His eyes swept over the racks of weapons and armor. He let out a condescending laugh.

  "But this place... it isn't even an eatery. It’s just a blacksmith shop for weapons and armor." He paused, looking back at Shier. "Perhaps you have some strange alchemical products, but where is this so-called 'gourmet food'?"

  Han Ming wasn't a cultivator; he possessed neither Combat Aura nor Mana. Therefore, the high-quality gear and pills meant nothing to him. He only cared about the "delicacies" the customers had raved about.

  "You came to my shop... looking for gourmet food?" Kael was momentarily bewildered, though he quickly pieced together what had happened.

  Shier, however, remained genuinely confused. "Gourmet food? If you mean things to eat, they’re over there." She pointed toward the snack vending machine.

  "You’re telling me your 'delicacies' are kept in this strange cabinet?" Han Ming walked forward suspiciously, eyeing the machine. He noticed the notice posted on it. "Hmph, a purchase limit? A cheap psychological trick to create artificial scarcity."

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  He shook his head in disdain. "I can't believe I actually thought a place like this could produce anything better than Drunk Cloud."

  He didn't buy it for a second. Every dish at his restaurant involved complex steps and meticulous preparation. Anything pre-made and sold from a box was usually just cheap wine or preserved meats.

  "But since I’m already here, I suppose I’ll give it a try." Despite his sneer, Han Ming purchased the most expensive item: the Bacon Sandwich. This was his loyalty to the craft—exploring unknown flavors was one of his few genuine hobbies.

  "The packaging is somewhat interesting," he remarked, peeling back the wrapper. "If the taste doesn't live up to the hype, I will hold you fully accountable for slandering Drunk Cloud's name."

  With that cold warning, he took a bite.

  In an instant, an explosion of flavor erupted in his mouth, washing over his taste buds like a tidal wave.

  The crispy, perfectly toasted bread gave way to fresh, crunchy lettuce, rich and savory cheese, and the smokey, salty perfection of the bacon. Everything harmonized into a single, sublime experience. It was a flavor Han Ming had never encountered—an addictive combination that forced him to take bite after bite until the sandwich was gone.

  Finished, Han Ming barked out of habit: "Give me another! This... this Bacon Sandwich!"

  He seemed to have completely forgotten his previous mockery.

  "My apologies," Shier replied calmly. "Bacon Sandwiches are limited to one per person, per day."

  "A purchase limit? Impossible. It’s just a matter of the price being too low," Han Ming shook his head. He was well-versed in these tactics; Drunk Cloud used them for high-end specials to drive up the price.

  "I’ll pay ten times the price. Two hundred Spirit Crystals. Give me another one." The Young Master spoke with the effortless arrogance of the truly wealthy.

  "This..." Shier hesitated. Two hundred crystals for a single sandwich? It was a massive profit opportunity for the shop.

  Seeing her hesitation, Han Ming felt a flicker of contempt. Everyone has a price, he thought.

  "I’m sorry, but rules are rules," Kael’s voice cut through the air. He stepped out from the booth area, looking bored. "One per person, per day. No exceptions."

  His words weren't just for Han Ming; they were a lesson for Shier on how to handle such situations in the future.

  "And you are?" Han Ming turned to face him.

  "The Manager of this shop," Kael replied simply.

  "Oh? So you’re the one who sent people to cause trouble at my restaurant?" Han Ming narrowed his eyes, believing he had finally found the culprit. The girl at the counter was clearly just an employee, but the owner had to be the mastermind.

  "I wouldn't do that. Quite frankly, I wouldn't stoop to that level," Kael said, his words carrying a double meaning.

  He paused, then added, "Besides, look around. Food isn't even my primary product."

  It was a point so obvious it left Han Ming speechless. No sane businessman would go out of their way to sabotage a restaurant when they weren't even competing in the same industry. There was no profit in it—only trouble.