ROOOOOOOOOOOAR—SPLAAAAASH!
A hundred-thousand-foot wall of boiling, pitch-black liquid nihilism slammed straight against the doorway of Floor Five!
Standing at the head of the stairs with his family right behind him, Gu Changsheng didn’t even take half a step back.
With a calm, practiced turn of his wrist, he swept his battered [Frost-Pine Town Iron Wok Spatula] in a semicircle across the threshold.
“[Rank 9 Absolute Limit Culinary Law: Frost-Pine Kitchen Grease-Fire & Wok-Hei Dome]!”
SZZZZZZZZT—BOOM!
A warm, golden-amber dome of non-stick kitchen wok-fire—carrying the mouthwatering, high-temperature sear of well-cured cast iron and sizzling scallion oil—expanded across the open doorway!
When the hundred-thousand-foot black tsunami of Primordial Despair Ink crashed against Gu Changsheng’s golden wok-fire barrier. The water-repellent law of hot cooking oil took immediate effect: not a single drop of the black liquid could stick to or penetrate the golden dome! Instead, the roaring black waves hissed, beaded up like cold water splashed onto a well-oiled iron skillet, and parted thirty yards to the left and right of the staircase landing!
