My martial spirit leads me to Earth; I begin by submitting my skills to the Douluo Continent.

Chapter 43: Threatening the Cake of Capital

"They wouldn't even let me drink their bathwater, and they still have the nerve to open a shop?! Compared to Manager Wang, they're utter trash!"

Whoosh—

The originally crowded and noisy crowd seemed to have been subjected to some kind of collective soul skill.

Centered on this burly man, an absolute vacuum zone instantly formed within a three-meter radius.

The woman, who had just been teary-eyed, now covered her grandson's ears in terror and backed away repeatedly.

The man next to him silently put away the hamburger he had just bought, looking at him like he was an alien.

Even Wang Er, who was wiping his mouth, was stunned, and his lips twitched.

Brother, even though you're on the same side, isn't your approach a bit too reckless?

The older sheriff's face darkened. He silently picked up the soul-guided communicator hanging on his shoulder and whispered into the other end, "Hello, headquarters? This is the entrance to Nezha Burger Shop."

"Yes, hygiene is not a problem."

"But we caught a pervert who described hooliganism in such a refined and elegant way."

"Yes, send two more people over and take them to the psychiatric ward for a psychiatric evaluation. If they're not insane, lock them up in the North City Prison and don't let them out to cause trouble for the landlady."

As the burly man who had been shouting that he wanted to drink the landlady's bathwater was dragged away like a dead pig by two security guards who had arrived, the farce did not fizzle out; instead, it pushed the atmosphere to another bizarre climax.

"Although that guy is a bit of a freak, his words, though rough, are actually quite reasonable! Only Nezha Burger dares to be so tough!"

"Long live Manager Wang! Long live Nezha Burger!"

The crowd's cheers erupted like a tsunami. Rob stood in the center of the crowd, listening to the praise, but he only felt that they were noisy.

This world —

He's gone mad!

"Young Master Luo, isn't that enough?"

The older sheriff patted Rob on the shoulder, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Since you have such an extreme pursuit of food safety, even going so far as to bring us here for a class—then, for the sake of fairness—"

The sheriff pointed across the street to the magnificent Juweixuan Restaurant.

"Since we're already here, why not stop by your restaurant and check it out? With Young Master Luo's high standards and strict requirements, I'm sure your kitchen is cleaner than this place, and the toilet water tastes better, right?"

"Huh? No—ugh—is that alright?"

Upon hearing this, Rob's originally pale face instantly turned liver-colored, and he was so frightened that he stopped vomiting.

Doesn't he know what his own kitchen is like?

That was a biological weapons testing ground!

"How can that be? Law enforcement must be applied equally to everyone!"

The sheriff didn't give him a chance to refuse. Without saying a word, he grabbed Luo Bu, whose legs were as weak as noodles, and dragged him across the street to Juweixuan amidst the shouts of the onlookers, "Investigate him! Investigate him!"

Ten minutes later, in the kitchen of Juweixuan.

When the sheriff pushed open the greasy door, the handle of which was even covered in a layer of black glue, a complex stench of stale oil mixed with rancid water and dead fish and shrimp hit him.

"Cough cough cough!!"

The two sheriffs were nearly killed on the spot by the smell.

-

In the dim light, the floor was as black as asphalt, and every step you took left streaks of black.

The stove was covered with a thick layer of grease, and the dishcloth was so black that its original color was no longer visible.

But what's most impressive is the biodiversity here.

In the vegetable cutting area, five or six large, slick black rats were gathered in a circle.

Upon hearing the strangers enter, instead of scattering in panic, they all turned their heads in unison, their beady eyes gleaming with displeasure.

The leader even stood upright, its two front paws on its fat waist, its whiskers trembling, and it squeaked twice at the sheriff.

"This... this is your sanitation management?"

The sheriff's hand was already on his baton, and his voice was trembling.

"It's a misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!"

Rob rushed forward, sweating profusely, trying to block the view with his massive body, and stammered, "These—these are our restaurant's food quality control personnel! They have a keen sense of smell and are specifically used to detect whether the ingredients are fresh!"

However, before Rob could even speak, an even more explosive scene unfolded.

Flames rose from the innermost main stove.

A thin head chef with a head of messy, bird's-nest-like hair was wielding a large ladle, in a state of extreme frenzy while cooking.

His eyes were fixed, he was muttering incantations, and the iron pot in his hands was flipping up and down so fast it looked like he was performing a shamanistic ritual.

And sitting atop his messy head was a tiny mouse wearing a miniature chef's hat!

The rat had a solemn expression, its two pink little paws gripping the chef's two tufts of hair on either side of his head, as if it were piloting a giant mecha.

"Squeak! (Hard to port!)"

The mouse yanked on the left side of its hair.

The head chef tilted his head to the left in an instant, and with his left hand, he grabbed the salt shaker and precisely sprinkled a handful of salt.

"Squeak! (Turn up the firepower!)"

The mouse frantically pulled at the hair in the middle of its head.

The head chef winced in pain, roared, and stomped his right foot on the ground, unleashing his soul power, causing the furnace fire to leap three feet high!

"Squeak—! (Tossing the wok!)"

The mouse pulled sharply backward.

With a powerful thrust of his waist, the head chef swung the large ladle sharply, sending the dish through the air in a perfect parabola before it landed steadily back in the pot.

This seamless and perfectly coordinated operation between human and mouse left the crowd at the door dumbfounded, their worldviews shattered.

"What the hell is this thing?!"

The sheriff felt his sanity level plummeting.

Rob covered his face and groaned in despair, "That—that's our executive chef—his martial spirit is his hair—"

"Because of the mutated martial soul, it has no offensive capabilities. Its only characteristic is that it completely relinquishes control of the body. As long as you grab his hair, you can control his body!"

"Because this martial spirit is completely useless! He chopped scallions in the kitchen for a full fifteen years! Fifteen years!!"

"Until that day—when he was emptying swill in the back alley, he met Mouse."

A hint of awe for fate flickered in Rob's eyes: "At that moment, the gears of the soul meshed."

"The mouse has a god-like sense of taste and an ultimate control over the cooking time, but it is a soul beast and does not have human hands;

Old Wang has a strong physique, but he lacks the brains to cook!

"The mouse jumped onto his head and grabbed his hair."

"A miracle has happened!"

Rob waved his hands excitedly, as if describing a miracle: "Old Wang is no longer that good-for-nothing who only knows how to chop onions, he has become... a high-level soul communication vessel for the rat!"

"We'll just call it—Gundam!!"

>