The wind in Shifting Dune Hollow wasn't a whisper; it was a constant, raw scream. Sand spiraled endlessly, a perpetual, stinging haze, as if the desert itself was actively trying to guard whatever secrets lay at its desolate heart.
The three figures stood at the rim, squinting against the relentless sting of the grit.
"This," Hwan Do muttered, pulling his collar higher, "feels like the kind of place you send other people to fetch spoons."
Seo Rin adjusted her grip on her sword, the leather creaking faintly. "You're the one holding the map, Hwan Do."
"Yeah, but why am I holding the map?" he whined, gesturing wildly towards the howling abyss. "You're the important one, the one the Sect actually needs at the Summit! I'm basically—" he waved a hand towards the Hollow "—a gust away from being desert soup."
Zhu Bao snorted, a surprisingly cheerful sound. "Soup's not so bad."
With a collective sigh, they began their slide down the dune's steep slope, sand pouring into their boots like liquid grit. At the very center of the hollow, the distant glimmer they'd spotted earlier resolved into a long-handled silver spoon, impossibly bright, wedged into the cracked remains of what looked like an ancient stone altar.
Zhu Bao's eyes went glassy, utterly transfixed. "Oh… she's beautiful."
"You're in love with a spoon," Hwan Do muttered, rolling his eyes.
"I'm in love with culinary destiny, you peasant!" Zhu Bao shot back, indignantly.
Seo Rin stepped forward, brushing layers of fine sand from the altar. Carvings spiraled outward from its center—ancient, worn runes in the shape of coiling clouds, almost lost to time.
She reached out and touched one. The ground rumbled, a deep resonance that vibrated through their bones.
Sand erupted like a geyser as a colossal shape burst forth from beneath the earth. Not a centipede this time, but a serpent the size of a small boat, its scales glassy and translucent, shimmering with internal heat. A mirage seemed to dance around its colossal form.
"A sandwraith asp," Seo Rin said, her voice taut, already stepping into a defensive stance.
"It's see-through," Hwan Do yelped. "How do we hit something made of heat haze?"
"You don't," Seo Rin replied, her eyes fixed on the shimmering beast, "unless you're faster than the wind itself."
The serpent lunged, a swift, terrifying blur, and would have swallowed Hwan Do whole if Zhu Bao hadn't hurled his trusty frying pan straight at its head, clanging it right between the asp's unblinking eyes.
It recoiled with a furious hiss, its translucent body rippling.
"That's for underestimating a pig!" Zhu Bao roared, scrambling to retrieve his weapon from the sand.
Seo Rin's blade flashed, a silver streak against the shimmering air. The serpent's body seemed to dissolve, breaking apart into streams of hot wind that vanished, carried away by the hollow's constant scream, into the desert sky.
The rumbling stopped. The altar lay quiet once more, the only sound the incessant howl of the wind.
Hwan Do approached the spoon cautiously, as if it might bite. "No more guardians?"
Zhu Bao shrugged. "If there are, they're probably busy marinating."
Hwan Do yanked the spoon free. It was shockingly cold despite the searing heat of the desert, and the metal shimmered faintly, as if holding a captured inner light.
Long Li's voice echoed in his memory, clear as a bell: "First key to the Forbidden Banquet… gather the utensils of Heaven."
Hwan Do swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of the weight in his hand. "One down… how many to go?"
That night, they camped on the Hollow's wind-swept edge. Seo Rin kept first watch, a silent, unmoving silhouette against the moon. Hwan Do and Zhu Bao sat by a meager fire, the newly acquired spoon resting between them, gleaming softly.
"Alright, Dumpling," Hwan Do said, poking the flames. "I've known you for months now. All I know is you can cook, complain, and occasionally save my life. Spill it: who are you?"
Zhu Bao stared into the flickering embers, his usual boisterousness subdued. "You ever hear of the Eight Kitchens of the Northern Court?"
"Nope."
"They were the most legendary chefs in Murim history. Each kitchen guarded a secret recipe so powerful, it was said to heal, poison, or even grant immortality. My master was the head of the First Kitchen… until the Heavenly Butcher burned it down."
Hwan Do blinked, taken aback. "That's… a lot."
Zhu Bao's ears drooped, a mournful sight. "I was just an apprentice. Couldn't fight. Couldn't protect anyone. My master's last words to me were… 'Run, little dumpling.' And I did. I've been running ever since."
Hwan Do was quiet for once, genuinely considering the pig's words. "So you're… what, hiding from the Butcher?"
"I'm hiding," Zhu Bao said, his voice firm, "until I can make a dish worthy of revenge."
Hwan Do grinned faintly, a new understanding dawning. "Well… you've got a spoon now."
Zhu Bao chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Yeah. One step closer."
Elsewhere… In the Black Viper Cult's hidden lair, a grim, stone-walled cavern, the Heavenly Butcher sat before a table littered with maps and strange ingredients.
A shadowed subordinate bowed low, the rustle of black robes echoing in the cavern.
"Master, the Nine-Star Spoon has been taken."
The Butcher did not look surprised. "By the trio," he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue like the edge of a blade.
"Yes, Master. They are leaving Shifting Dune Hollow."
His lips curved into a slow, chilling smile, sharp as a filleting knife. "Good. The desert will soften them… and when they crawl out, I'll be waiting with an appetite."
He dipped a ladle into his cauldron, pulling up a thick, steaming liquid. With deliberate care, he poured it over a black viper skull resting on the table. The bone hissed, cracked, and dissolved into the dark brew.
"The banquet begins," he whispered.