Zhang Luan stared at the fiery red pot before him, utterly speechless.

Never in a million years did he expect to pull out… a pot?

“I’m not even a chef! What am I supposed to do with this lousy pot?”

He gave it a light kick—*thud*—surprisingly pleasant.

“Sigh. Guess I’m just unlucky. A lousy pot’s a lousy pot. Still, I already got a mythic item. Might as well use it for cooking.”

Speaking of cooking, Zhang Luan suddenly remembered:

“Oh. I can’t cook.”

With a helpless sigh, he summoned the pot’s interface. Zero expectations for this weird-looking thing.

[Culinary God’s Spicy Pot]

Tier: Legendary

Effect 1: Any dish cooked in this pot is judged by the user’s Luck attribute as either [Super Spicy] or [Supreme Delicacy].

Effect 2: Consuming [Super Spicy] reduces max HP by 0.5% per second while granting +30% movement speed. Duration scales with attribute max.

Effect 3: Consuming [Supreme Delicacy] grants +50% max HP and restores 10% max HP per second for 10 seconds.

After reading it, Zhang Luan gently rubbed the spot he’d kicked—and beamed.

“Knew it! With my luck, no way I’d get trash. Even a pot’s this OP. Just like me.”

(If the pot could talk, it’d call him shameless already.)

Just as Zhang Luan gathered leaves to test it, his ears twitched. Distant combat sounds drew near.

Eyebrows lifted. He instantly used Stellar Flame to absorb the campfire and vanished into shadow. Few came here at this hour—mostly low-level adventurers, but their clashes never sounded this violent.

That scythe hanging in the sky? Definitely not low-tier.

Better avoid trouble than seek it. Hide, observe. Maybe snag a benefit.

Slipping deeper into darkness, he lowered his presence to near zero. Someone could walk past and never notice.

*Clank-clank-clank.* Chainmail rattled closer. Warriors in gleaming silver armor rushed into the cave, shielding a petite figure at their center.

The mature woman leading them scanned the cave. Only a cold, long-dead campfire remained. She let out a slight sigh of relief.

“Hold off the heretics! Protect the Holy Maiden at all costs!”

The warriors bowed sharply and charged out.

Only the woman, the girl, and the hidden Zhang Luan remained.

Once they left, the girl gazed up with luminous golden eyes.

“They want me. Hand me over. Return to the city. Tell the Matriarch to rescue me.”

The woman shook her head, smiling gently.

“As your Guardian, how could I let you face danger? Don’t worry—I’ll get you…”

A black arrow *thwipped* into her back. Cursed runes slithered across her skin. Agony dropped her to her knees.

“How touching! Mistress and servant, so devoted! Good thing I stepped in—would’ve missed this show. Hahahaha!”

A black-robed man materialized, crossbow in hand—the source of the shot.

Teeth gritted, trembling, the woman raised her greatsword before the girl.

The man sneered, clapped once. She collapsed.

“No point resisting. This Soul Curse kills on contact. Your turn, Holy Maiden.”

The girl bit her lip, fists clenched tight. Ignoring his taunts, she stared at the fallen woman—something deep within her stirring awake.

Mistaking her silence for fear, the man swaggered closer, hand outstretched.

A soft cough cut through the tension—and halted whatever was awakening in her.

From the shadows, Zhang Luan stepped out, cradling the crimson pot. Crossbow instantly aimed at him.

“Who are you?! The Mighty Roar Cathedral handles this—value your life!”

Bold words, but inwardly shocked. He hadn’t sensed this man at all. *Stronger than me.* He secretly signaled for backup.

Zhang Luan ignored him, eyes locked on the girl.

He knew her.

Not personally—only from his past life, online.

Nan Fenghua. The sole human among the Three Calamity Pillars. The Destruction Saintess who unleashed world-ending chaos.

Back then, she was the protagonist. The calamity. The human who made gods bleed.

Now? No cold arrogance. Only delicate vulnerability.

Golden eyes held quiet depth. Silky black hair flowed to her waist. Petite frame, yet radiating a subtle, captivating allure.

Nan Fenghua looked at Zhang Luan, confusion clouding her gaze. She hoped—desperately—for help. But… strangers. Why risk it?

Because she was the Holy Maiden?

The robed man pressed his advantage, finger on the trigger.

“Leave now, and we part peacefully. She’s the Mighty Roar Cathedral’s prey. We show no mercy to enemies.”

More robed figures filed in, crossbows trained on Zhang Luan. Arrows poised to fly.

Zhang Luan shot them a cold glance, smirked, and swept Nan Fenghua into his arms.

“I hate being threatened.”

“FIRE!”

“Idiot.”

The instant black bolts neared him, a roaring wall of fire erupted—ashes fluttered down.

Zhang Luan’s lips curled into a cocky grin. He crooked a finger.

“Go on. Aren’t you *so* tough?”