Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 772 629: Industrial Cooking_1

Ten minutes had passed.

Since the competition started, Guo ShouQue hadn't moved an inch. One couldn't even hear the sound of his breathing. It was as if what stood there wasn't an old ghost whose hair and eyebrows were nearly gone, but an ugly, unsightly piece of rotten wood. It was just placed outside his opponent's cooking station, a blatant obstruction.

He simply lowered his head, intently observing Johnny's cooking station. He scrutinized every tool, watched every movement and step, his narrowed eyes struggling to widen, filled with curiosity and anticipation.

He looked just like a child attending school for the first time.

Everything seems impressive, everything so novel.

This is excellent, and that's excellent too; everything is excellent! Is there anything else amazing? Quick, bring it out for me to see!

Despite such an open display of admiration, it was somehow... unpleasant!

The brutal aura from behind the cooking station grew even sharper.

Johnny looked silently at Guo ShouQue, veins bulging on his robust arms. His hands pressed on the cooking station as he bent down, lowering his head to look at him. "Old ghost, what are you looking at?"

"Looking at you."

Guo ShouQue answered without a hint of embarrassment, "I'm observing my opponent, looking for your mistakes… But to be honest, your fundamentals are flawless. The preparation of your ingredients shows no errors. Truly impressive! Mr. Kujikane, you must have undergone countless trials, right? I can tell. Every unconscious movement, every skilled technique, must have been acquired through an unknown number of repetitions. Beyond this astonishing talent, your diligence and effort also far surpass mine!"

"The fighting spirit of youth… truly terrifying…"

CRASH!

A sudden roar erupted.

On the cooking station, countless tools and ingredients flew into the air, then tumbled down in disarray.

A hand, its veins bulging, had already left deep cracks on the cutting board.

"Are you done talking?" Johnny Ju Zhijian looked up and asked coldly.

"Yes, I'm done."

"Since you enjoy watching so much, then keep watching, old ghost."

Johnny bent down closer, baring his teeth, and said indifferently, "Go ahead, try whatever little tricks and schemes you want. Sabotage my ingredients, disrupt my process—it doesn't matter. It won't change the outcome, because your petty maneuvers won't affect me in the slightest!"

He withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and piece by piece, skillfully bled and dismembered the ferocious-looking turkey, laying out the parts methodically. He wasn't afraid of his opponent stealing his techniques, nor was he worried about his ingredients being sabotaged when he wasn't looking, allowing Guo ShouQue to ramble on.

His expression was completely impassive. Without a trace of annoyance, he seemed to have merged with the concrete, reinforcing steel, and lime, transforming into a man-made statue of iron and stone. Even if the heavens collapsed and the earth sundered before him, he wouldn't show a shred of hesitation.

Starting at age eight, as a despised illegal immigrant, he pushed a food cart with his Master through streets and alleys, drifting between slums and commercial districts, evading health department inspections and police pursuits, gang extortion, and ostracism from peers. He endured and adapted to countless hostile environments, then underwent a Metamorphosis and ultimately dominated!

In roaring, scorching steel mills; in dust-filled production workshops; in noisy, chaotic slums; beside mosquito-infested garbage heaps… Born from the deepest foundations of Detroit, this was swift, rapid, high-calorie, flawless industrial cuisine!

Guo ShouQue's off-board tactics were, to him, less significant than the buzzing of a fly!

In just a few short minutes, all the ingredients were processed.

The cooking began…

Barehanded, he snatched up the red-hot pot lid.

The meager heat couldn't even penetrate his thick calluses. The moment the lid was lifted, a terrifying tidal wave of aroma engulfed the entire arena.

So pungent, so rich—the smell brutally assaulted everyone's nostrils, making their eyes widen in disbelief.

Is that… machine oil?

Huai Shi took a deep breath, finally certain: it was indeed machine oil! Everything boiling and churning in that enormous pot was machine oil!

Yet, smelling that odor, one couldn't help but take deep breaths, feeling an indescribable surge of euphoria. Even knowing it was so pungent and unhealthy, one couldn't resist inhaling more, wanting to experience more of this sudden stimulation and exhilaration.

The aggressive scent lingering at the tips of their noses gradually broke down, becoming sweet—like flowers, like trees, like aloeswood. As it wafted, it conjured another, entirely different and intoxicating aroma, making one feel mesmerized and, simultaneously, unbearably famished.

It was only when Huai Shi reached out and forcefully pressed Zhenxi down into her chair that Zhenxi realized she had stood up at some point, her stomach growling, barely able to stop herself from lunging forward. Lost in the smell of machine oil, unable to break free, her consciousness began to fade.

Miss Huaizhi clenched her fist. When she opened her palm again, a small pinch of Apocalypse appeared, which she promptly forced into Zhenxi's nostrils. These were Apocalypse smelling salts, meant to be invigorating and mind-clearing.

Instantly, as the pure negative Source Substance diffused, Zhenxi's eyes turned bloodshot. Unsure what painful memory had surfaced, tears streamed down her face, even wasting one of Huai Shi's tissues.

Only after crying for a long while did she finally come to her senses. "What happened to me? What was I just…"

Miss Huaizhi sighed and showed Zhenxi her phone.

[Organic Solvent Addiction]

This was a tendency most people were innately prone to, often without even realizing it.

Motor oil, rosin, turpentine, paint, coatings...

When faced with such volatile substances—clearly pungent and known to be harmful—there was still an irresistible urge to smell them. Even the mere thought of similar scents could induce a craving that perhaps only a heavy smoker could truly understand. Some severe cases become so entranced they cannot break free.

It had become an addictive substance, akin to tobacco or alcohol.

For the mere scent to induce symptoms of poisoning and addiction in ordinary people, Johnny's culinary skill, which had reached a state of perfection, was truly admirable.

And now, Johnny picked up the seasoning bucket and, scoop after scoop, heaped spices onto the prepared ingredients.

With a casual knead, his hands erupted with Terrible Power, like a cement mixer, forcing the spices deep into the raw turkey meat.

"Oh?" Guo ShouQue raised an eyebrow. "Young man, you're not planning to deep-fry with motor oil, are you?"

"And why not?" Johnny smirked, a mocking smile on his face. "The lifeblood of industry is motor oil. And the king of motor oil is Exxon! What I've prepared for everyone today is the signature dish of industrial cuisine: the Exxon Fried Chicken Combo!"

As he spoke, all the ingredients plunged into the boiling pot.

Instantly, a great SIZZLE erupted as plumes of black smoke billowed, spreading wildly. Like a chemical reaction, the chicken, now yielding to the motor oil, emitted a frenzied, captivating fragrance. This blended with the pungent oil fumes, forming a mist that instantly enveloped the entire venue.

The rich aroma of fried food merged with the seductive pull of the acrid motor oil. Overlapping, their combined allure intensified tenfold.

Even Huai Shi couldn't help but want to praise such demonic ingenuity.

Strands of darkness emanated from beside Miss Huaizhi, faintly enshrouding Zhenxi and isolating her within.

If an ordinary person smelled this, they'd probably turn into a crazed, gluttonous zombie in an instant, wouldn't they?

High-fat, high-calorie food is a fundamental need for every living being to sustain itself. It is a desire engraved in human genes, cells, and Source Substance since the Primitive Era. Even if unhealthy for modern humans, for those in history who constantly battled hunger, it was an absolute godsend!

A double whammy!

The inherent allure of high-calorie fried food, combined with the demonic enticement emanating from the motor oil, coalesced within the spreading black smoke to project the image of a vast city.

It was a metropolis perpetually shrouded in smog and coal ash, filled with the roar of machinery—the brilliant jewel of America's manufacturing industry, the radiant glory of Detroit, the city of industry!

Here, indeed, the stage for industrial cuisine had been set; everything was under Johnny's control!

When the golden-brown chicken pieces were lifted from the oil, they gleamed with a golden light.

In the blink of an eye, rows upon rows of deep-fried items, drained of excess oil and carrying their pungent, captivating aroma, arrived on the cutting board.

Drumsticks, wings, breast meat, hearts, tenders... Chicken burgers!

With Johnny's swift and precise, assembly-line-like movements, the food was packed into one huge paper box after another, forming a line.

This was far more than one person could possibly eat.

"You even made this much?" Guo ShouQue looked up in astonishment, a hint of bitterness on his wrinkled face. "My old bones can't eat all this. Isn't that a bit too despicable?"

"Don't worry. I don't need such vile methods to defeat an old geezer like you." Johnny Kujikane tilted his head, lit a cigarette, and casually flicked the ash. "Workers have bad tempers, worse than an old geezer like you."

"They're coarse, quick to anger, loud, and unyielding. After a day's labor, hunger gnaws at them... You can't keep such customers waiting, nor can you let such laborers return disappointed."

"The essence of Industrial Cuisine is absolute output, absolute standards, and absolute satisfaction!"

As he spoke, he grinned, looking provocatively at the surrounding stands. "I've made enough for ten today! Any interested friends can come up and get some later... but it won't taste as good once it cools down, eh."

With that, Johnny, cigarette in hand, picked up a paper box larger than Guo ShouQue's head and presented it to him. "Please, old ghost. Savor the techniques of the new era before you die!"

Inside the box was an array of deep-fried delights, and it even came with a large bottle of chilled cola.

This was a super-sized Exxon Fried Chicken Combo, enough for a family of three to eat for an entire day!

Guo ShouQue picked up the box and looked down at the calorie bombs inside, lost in thought for a long time.

"Scared?" Johnny scoffed mockingly.

"No, just curious, young man..." Guo ShouQue reached for a chicken leg larger than his face, brought it close, examined it, and couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Though I'm an old relic who can't keep up with the times, I can at least tell the difference... What kind of fried chicken is this?"

He burst into laughter, shattering Johnny's composure and causing his smile to freeze for a moment. "—This is clearly Tempura!"