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Smith Jr.’s eyes shot open. A new message had appeared while he was sleeping. He was having a nice dream involving Eula, a bed, and a toy bear, but a line of red text just had to appear and interrupt him right when it was about to get to the good part. A sigh escaped from Smith Jr.’s mouth as he sat up and rubbed away the crud on his face, trying to ignore the line of text for as long as possible. However, there was only so much he could do.
[The system has been upgraded to Vremya’s Martial Cooking System Alpha v0.1.0. Tutor Golem 2000 has been upgraded to Tutor Golem 3000; it now includes a full combat and cultivation course. A new mission has also been issued.]
[New Mission: Becoming a Warrior]
[Young warrior chef, it’s a dangerous world, one where a chef might not do so well in; however, if you become a warrior chef, the world might just become a little safer. Who knows when you’ll suddenly be thrust into battle to hunt down the system’s enemies? It’s best to be prepared. Your goal is to reach the foundation establishment stage within one month.]
[Reward: Vremya’s Battle Knife]
Smith Jr. groaned. Not only did he have to learn how to cook, he also had to train his cultivation? The Stinky-Dog’s Cooking Techniques included a cultivation portion, but there was a limit to what cooking egg fried rice could do for him. If he wanted to increase his strength, he’d have to cook tougher dishes, use higher-quality ingredients. However, if he wanted to obtain more recipes from the system, he had to complete its missions. There was no way he could sell ten thousand bowls of egg fried rice in one month. In other words, there was absolutely no way he could complete this mission.
“Time spent sitting on your bed in a daze is time wasted.”
There was a crashing sound as Smith Jr.’s door flew open. Tutor Golem 2000, no, it was Tutor Golem 3000 now. Tutor Golem 3000 looked exactly the same as Tutor Golem 2000 except, instead of a whip, the golem was holding a knife. Smith Jr. stared at the golem that had barged into his room. He didn’t even have the energy to muster up a face of despair. The golem grabbed Smith Jr. by the collar of his chef’s robes—which he had slept in the night before thanks to collapsing from exhaustion—and dragged him out of the room, ignoring the deadened expression on the poor chef’s face—poor martial chef’s face.
“It is time for your martial training,” Tutor Golem 3000 said in its metallic voice. It dragged Smith Jr. down the flight of steps and turned towards the right. However, instead of going towards the kitchen, it went beyond it and around a corner, entering a corridor that hadn’t existed before. “Do your best to survive. If at any time, you feel as if you might die, rest assured, it is not just a feeling. Most likely, you’ll die. There is no need for you to leave behind any regrets; once you die, the shop shall find a new chef to run it. Pass away in peace.”
Smith Jr. knew better than to waste his energy protesting despite every cell in his brain urging him to ask the golem what the hell it was thinking. He let the golem bring him to the end of the corridor where he was tossed into an open-air arena. He wasn’t sure how there was a sky within the building, but there was also a sun hanging overhead.
[New Mission: A Warrior’s First Steps]
[Survive the tutorial.]
[Reward: Vremya’s Combat Techniques]
Smith Jr. looked around. Hanging from the walls, there were weapons and shields. The corridor which he had entered from was nowhere to be found. All of a sudden, dozens of blinding ovals of light appeared beside Smith Jr., each light as tall as a person. When the light faded, there were ninety-nine other people standing in the arena. Smith Jr. was considered a talented laborer in the sect he had worked at. A talented laborer needed to have discretion. They had to observe and understand people’s statuses based on their attitudes and clothing alone. One mistake could be fatal. Greet a young master as if he were a servant, and a laborer’s head would be chopped off. Even with all this experience, Smith Jr. had no idea what the hell to make of these people or their statuses.
“Where are I?”
“Is this a dream?”
“Hey, I think I’ve seen this gameshow before.”
Smith Jr. scratched his head. Were all of these people thrown in here to become warrior chefs too? If that were the case, how come none of the people here were dressed like chefs? Not only that, but none of them seemed to have any awareness of their surroundings. They seemed to be citizens from an unknown country. Some of them were holding weird metallic, glassy, boxlike objects in their hands complaining about a lack of something called signal. Well, Smith Jr. didn’t really care. He was thrown into an arena and was told to survive. With that knowledge, he ran over to the wall and picked up a sword. After a moment of hesitation, he discarded the sword and picked up a rusty cleaver that was laying on the ground. His cultivation technique required knives, cleavers, woks, pots, pans, and other cooking implements for him to circulate his qi efficiently. It was a bit embarrassing for him to admit, but the rusty cleaver was a much better weapon in his hands than the impressive-looking sword he had discarded.
“Greetings, everyone!”
Smith Jr. turned his head. Floating in the air, there was a lump of dirt. However, it wasn’t just any lump of dirt. It was a cute lump of dirt. Smith Jr. wasn’t sure why the adjective cute had appeared in his mind, but it did. The lump of dirt made sounds similar to a person clearing his throat. A high-pitched, feminine voice rang out from the dirt. “I know all of you have many questions, but in thirty seconds, a horde of goblins is going to pour out of the arena. Do your best to survive, and if any of you make it to the end, I’ll be happy to answer your questions then. Thank you for listening! Have a nice day!”
“Is this some sort of joke?”
“Is it just me or was that lump of dirt really cute?”
Smith Jr. took in a deep breath, filtering out the useless chatter. The lump of dirt, supposedly a poorly made golem, had said goblins were going to attack in thirty seconds. The arena was round, and there wasn’t any place to hide. Since that was the case, Smith Jr. pushed past a few people and headed into the center of the crowd. Why wouldn’t he choose the safest place to be? He was just a chef doing his best to survive.
***
Vremya rubbed his chin whilst staring at the livestream. Honestly, he preferred to let saplings grow on their own. However, if the world the sapling was growing on was about to end before the sapling could grow up and bear fruit, Vremya didn’t mind speeding up the tree’s growth a bit. He was the god of time, and although he didn’t normally use his powers, he still wanted to keep them. If someone was trying to steal his powers, it was obvious he’d use his powers to fight back. He had purchased a minor world, installed a [Tutorial Tower System] using the minor world as the foundation, and added some of his own abilities. Time within the tower would pass by a hundred times slower. That way, Smith Jr. could grow up to be a fighter quickly. As for the other people thrown inside the tower, he got them from Reinkar’s shop—buying some dead souls was pretty cheap. Once Smith Jr. and Paul were fully grown, Vremya would use them to steal Istoriya’s users, weakening the god of history’s wallet. Vremya narrowed his eyes. Of course, the wallet was just the start.