Sect War III – Rise of the Feathered Apocalypse
There are many terrifying things in the cultivation world.
Ancient demons. Cursed artifacts. That one time I mistook a pill for a jellybean and exploded my eyebrows.
But none of them compare to this moment.
The sky was full of flaming birds.
Snowflake, the goat, had just eaten a forbidden manual.
And General Featherburn—who had somehow weaponized plumage—was advancing with an army of majestic, overdramatic, aggressively sparkly peacocks.
Yue stood beside me, munching on a dumpling. "So… what's the plan?"
"Run?" I offered.
The Demon King unsheathed his sword. "We fight!"
The Sect Demon god sighed, looking up at the birds circling ominously above. "Why do I even bother meditating? Every time I come out, someone's exploded, enlightened, or declared war on poultry."
Just then, General Featherburn screeched again. "RETURN THE SCROLL… OR PREPARE TO BE PLUCKED!"
Snowflake responded by farting lightning.
Several disciples fainted....
"Master Long," Yue said, already backing away, "I think your goat just challenged the entire Heavenly Aviary Alliance."
"I'm aware."
"She also just headbutted a flaming peacock general."
"I'm aware."
"And she seems to be… levitating higher." Snowflake used that moment to soar into the air like a furry thundercloud of doom.
The sky crackled. Lightning formed the shape of an omelette.
"Oh no," I whispered. "She's initiating the Fluffy Egg Formation."
General Featherburn flapped his wings. "INTERCEPT HER!"
Suddenly, thirty golden peacocks divebombed the sect... Screams erupted.
Someone yelled, "MY DUMPLINGS!"
The Demon King leapt into the air, swinging his blade in a spinning arc of chaos.
Yue pulled out two brushes and started painting mid-battle calligraphy—her attacks slicing through the air in glowing ink.
And me?
I did what any self-respecting cultivator would do in a war between poultry and goat.
I hid behind a tree.
"Snowflake," I muttered, peeking out, "please don't trigger a spiritual cataclysm."
She did exactly that....
With a blast of light and one last echoing "BAAAAAH," Snowflake exploded into a holy aura that knocked back the peacock army like they were feathers in a hurricane.
When the dust settled… The courtyard was in ruins.
A dozen peacocks were buried in dumpling pots.
Snowflake stood atop the main sect roof, bleating majestically, as the scroll she'd digested reappeared—now tattooed across her fur in golden script.
General Featherburn twitched. "We… concede."
He turned. "RETREAT!"
As the sky cleared and the birds vanished over the horizon, the Sect Demon god sighed again.
Then turned to me...
"…You're promoted."
I blinked. "Again?"
"You're now Grand Goat Guardian of Culinary Cultivation Catastrophes."
"…Does it come with dental?"
"Only if you survive the next goat apocalypse."
Yue tossed me a bun. "Congrats, Grand Guardian. You're officially the sect's weirdest success story."
I bit into the bun, savoring it... It exploded.
Of course it did....
-----
The Cursed Spoon of Culinary Doom
You know how some people stumble into greatness?
I trip, faceplant, and somehow get nominated for an inter-realm cooking tournament with a spoon possessed by a 300-year-old culinary ghost.
Let me explain.
After the Great Goat vs. Peacock War (Snowflake still wears a feathered crown she stole), peace returned to the Nightshade Demon Sect… briefly.
Very briefly.
"Long Fei Jian," said the Sect Demon god , rubbing his temples. "You've been volunteered for the Inter-Realm Cultivation Cuisine Contest."
"I… have?"
He shoved a scroll into my hands. "Yes. Because no one else wants to be near you during food-related events. Also, the goat threatened to bleat at my grandchildren if I didn't."
Yue nodded. "Fair. Snowflake's bleats cause mild earthquakes now."
I sighed. "Okay. I'll cook. How bad could it be?"
Twelve Minutes Later....
"WHY IS THE SOUP SCREAMING?"
"I don't know!" I shouted back, swatting at a flying ladle. "The instructions just said 'boil until it achieves spiritual sentience!'"
Yue dodged a flaming wonton. "And what's with that spoon?"
Oh right. The Spoon.
It was black. Ornate. Whispered insults about my technique every time I stirred.
"You chop like a blind donkey in a windstorm," it hissed.
"Shut up, haunted cutlery!" I yelled.
But I was stuck with it. Apparently, it once belonged to Demon Chef Xuanzhao the Twisted—who tried to sautee a phoenix and got cursed to spend eternity as kitchenware.
Cool.
By the time we arrived at the tournament grounds—held in the Floating Pavilion of Culinary Judgment—I was sweaty, nervous, and already regretting every life decision that led me here.
A celestial announcer floated overhead. "WELCOME, contestants, to the 9th Annual Inter-Realm Cooking Tournament! Featuring Fire Realm Fondue! Frost Spirit Sorbet! And one guy from the Demon Sect who brought a goat!"
Snowflake bleated and ate part of the welcome banner.
My first opponent?
A four-armed chef from the Heavenly Culinary Temple who specialized in soul-seared dumplings.
"Prepare to taste defeat," she said, slicing a turnip mid-air.
The spoon cackled in my hand. "This one has precision. You, however, still think garlic is a vegetable."
I gritted my teeth. "I'm making my signature dish: Spirit-Steamed Pork Buns of Mild Enlightenment."
The spoon snorted. "Good luck, noodle-brain."
I cooked like a man possessed.
Mostly because I was possessed. The spoon took over halfway through and made me pirouette while dicing onions.
Meanwhile, Snowflake sat on the judge's table like an uninvited royal mascot, chewing spiritual tofu and glaring at the competition.
When time was called, my dish was done.
Somehow....
The judges—an immortal granny, a talking flame, and a sentient cookbook—tasted each contestant's dish with dramatic flair.
Finally, they reached mine.
The immortal granny sniffed it. "Hm. Hints of regret. And… is that enlightenment?"
The talking flame flared. "It sings of trauma, chaos, and questionable seasoning… I love it."
The cookbook flapped its pages. "This entry is either a culinary miracle or a spiritual cry for help. I vote yes."
And just like that… I advanced to Round Two.
The crowd erupted.... Snowflake farted confetti. Yue facepalmed...
And the spoon whispered, "Well, chef. Let's see if you survive the next round. I hear the next challenge involves cursed dessert jelly."
Great... Just Fucking Great....
"What next?"