Her delicate arms immediately began to scream in protest.
But as she forced her Yin energy into the iron, a strange, undeniable phenomenon occurred.
The heavy, resistant webbing began to yield. The flowing, evasive nature of her Qi shifted.
She stopped trying to dodge the resistance and began to command it, compressing her aura, forcing it down the iron whisk. The webbing began to aerate, turning white, responding to her power in a way her fragile rapier never had.
’He is... he is right,’ Fairy Xue realized, gritting her teeth, sweat pouring down her face, the romantic crush entirely replaced by a fierce, burning, undeniable desire to master the technique. ’My Yin is not fragile. My Yin is heavy.’
"Faster, Xue! Don’t let the air escape!" Ji’an barked, pacing around them like a shark. "Drive the energy from your core, not your elbows! Be the gravity!"
For three grueling, agonizing hours, the Moon-Lotus Botanical Gardens echoed with the frantic, rhythmic, heavy metallic sound of iron beating against spider-silk. The maidens sweat, grunted, and swore highly un-orthodox curses under their breath.
And Ji’an watched them, a soft, incredibly proud, sisterly smile finally touching her lips.
’That’s it, girls,’ Ji’an thought warmly. ’Stop being damsels in distress that needs men to save them. Start being the damage-dealers yourselves!’
***
Just outside the perimeter of the petrified-glass domes of the botanical garden, hidden in a thick patch of highly toxic, glowing fern-bushes, four figures were currently engaged in a frantic, whispered, illegal espionage operation.
"I cannot see them," Lu Jianheng hissed, his face covered in soot and acid-burns from the geyser dodging. He was peering through the ferns, his aristocratic dignity entirely abandoned as he crawled on his hands and knees. "The glass is fogged with steam. What is he doing to them?!"
"He is seducing them," Wen Shiru whispered frantically, his glasses cracked, calculating the catastrophic political fallout. "He is likely reciting some poetry. He is probably offering them chilled fruit. The Chef’s romantic playbook is entirely based on high-tier snacks!"
Gu Zhiwei, his golden hair covered in mud, bit his lip, looking heartbroken. "Brother Lin is growing up so fast. But why did he have to choose the Azure Crane maidens? They don’t even like hotpot!"
And crouching behind them, emanating an aura so terrifying that the toxic ferns were literally shivering and dying around him, was Xie Wangchen.
The Ice Demon was not handling the exclusion well.
He had lasted exactly twenty minutes at the Acid-Geysers before his yandere paranoia had completely overridden his promise. He had convinced himself that Ji’an might need "protection" from the maidens.
"I am going to freeze the glass," Wangchen whispered, his ruby eyes glowing with manic, murderous intent in the shadows. "I will shatter the dome. I will interrupt the tea party."
"Do not blow our cover, Wangchen!" Jianheng panicked, grabbing the Ice Demon’s sleeve. "If the Chef catches us spying, he will deep-fry us!"
"I fear no fryer," Wangchen hissed, raising his hand, gathering a massive, condensed spear of black ice. "I only fear the theft of her gaze!"
Inside the dome, Ji’an’s high-tier culinary Qi-sense twitched.
She paused.
She didn’t turn around, just tilted her head slightly.
She could sense the golden holy Qi of Zhiwei, the sharp, icy aura of Jianheng. And she could unmistakably sense the suffocating chill of Xie Wangchen radiating from the bushes exactly thirty yards to her left.
’The absolute audacity of these morons,’ Ji’an sighed internally, shaking her head. ’They actually followed me. They are literally spying on me from the toxic shrubbery.’
Ji’an didn’t yell.
She didn’t stop the girls’ training, either.
She casually reached down to her calf and unbuckled the retention straps.
She gripped the handle of her heavy Black Iron Spatula. She didn’t channel an overarching spell. Instead, she channeled a precise surge of kinetic mass directly into her arm.
With a smooth, blindingly fast, completely effortless flick of her wrist, Ji’an threw the cast-iron spatula.
It didn’t fly like a knife.
It flew like a targeted cruise missile.
KRA-KOOM!
The heavy iron spatula shattered the petrified-glass dome, sailed through the air with a terrifying, whistling screech, and slammed directly into the trunk of a massive swamp-oak exactly one inch above Lu Jianheng’s head, burying itself three inches deep into the solid, petrified wood.
The concussive shockwave blew the toxic ferns completely away, exposing the four crouching, terrified, mud-covered male protagonists to the moonlight.
Inside the dome, Ji’an didn’t even look back.
"IF YOU FOUR PEEPING TOMS AREN’T BACK AT THE GEYSERS IN FIVE SECONDS," Ji’an’s voice boomed, calm, terrifying, and dripping with lethal intent, "I AM COMING OUT THERE, AND I AM USING MY CLEAVERS!"
The boys didn’t hesitate.
They didn’t even wait to apologize.
"AHHHH!"
Lu Jianheng shrieked, scrambling backward like a crab. Gu Zhiwei whimpered, sprinting away at Mach 3. Wen Shiru abandoned his cane, running for his life.
Even Xie Wangchen, realizing his stealth mission was a catastrophic failure, smoothly folded space and vanished, choosing retreat over the wrath of the Chef.
As the panicked footsteps faded into the distance, Fairy Xue and the maidens paused their whisking, looking out through the shattered glass dome in bewilderment.
"Martial Uncle..." Fairy Xue panted, her arms shaking, covered in sweat. "Were the Senior Disciples... spying on us?"
"They were making sure you didn’t skip your arm day, Xue," Ji’an lied smoothly, retrieving a spare spatula from her ring. "Eyes on the bowl! Your meringue is deflating! Whip it!"
As the rhythmic sound of iron beating against spider-silk resumed, Lin Ji’an leaned against a stone pillar, a genuine, exhausted, but completely content smile on her face.
She didn’t need the university.
She didn’t need the Headmistress anymore.
She had her own chaotic, overpowered, completely unhinged culinary academy right here.
But high above the Azure Dragon Sect, standing on a jagged peak, the mysterious figure in the midnight-purple robes took a final drag from his pipe. He looked down at the shattered glass dome and the spatula buried in the tree.