Chapter 239: Chef Must Work Hard Too

Then he died.

When he came to, he found himself back at the Hero's Altar. "Fortunately, I spent half a month accumulating enough energy to revive. I refuse to believe I can't win over this little elf girl!"

For the next six months,

as a chef, to prove his culinary skills, he continuously gathered resurrection energy. He was determined to win over the young elf girl, tirelessly researching delicious ingredients from this new world. He waited along her usual path, employing various tricks.

He died in over thirty different, elaborate ways.

However, he gradually began to communicate with the girl and earn her trust, trying to learn their language. The girl stopped killing him and often came to him for food and to play.

Through these interactions, he learned Elvish and gained insight into the world's civilization.

The young girl's name was Xilin, and her life tree was called the Night Tree. These tree elves preferred to appear at night.

Like trees, elves possessed long lifespans. They reached adulthood around eighty years old and could live for over three hundred years. Xilin was still a minor, only in her fifties.

These tree elves were few in number and had a low reproduction rate. Every tribe member was extremely precious. They could only reproduce by relying on the life tree to bear fruit.

Furthermore, this fantasy world of ancient trees was home to towering miracle life trees, mighty war trees, as well as dragons, deep-sea hydras, and various terrifying legendary beasts.

"The customs of this other world are truly simple and pure. I've died over thirty times, and my 'conquest' progress is finally nearing completion," he thought. That day, after playing with the girl, he returned to his dwelling. "According to the power system information I found online, the power level in this world is very high. Adult elves possess a Rank 4 level of power, almost like innate spirits!"

He returned to his room and began preparing ingredients for Xilin's next meal. But the next moment, a group of beautiful adult elves suddenly rushed in.

"This is it! The location of that strange ancient tree! We've finally found it!"

"It secretly enticed our Xilin, and it seems to have the ability to revive endlessly, and it's delicious too!"

"Yes, this creature also seems to cook incredibly delicious food. Xilin once secretly brought some back, and I tasted it! It's infinitely more delicious than the meat we roast over fire!"

Click!

He was quickly imprisoned, and a group of young Night Elf women gathered around him, examining him.

He lay on the bed, looking at the group of exquisite, beautiful elves. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of contentment.

"Ladies, please be gentle, I'm sensitive to pain," he chuckled, but his smile gradually turned disturbing.

Because these young women picked up knives and began to dissect him.

"Oh my god! Can anyone save me?!"

Half a month later, he suddenly stabilized and was released. He became a member of the elf tribe, receiving high regard as the Ancient Tree Chef of the Night Elf tribe. He conquered the entire tribe with his gourmet cooking, preparing food for them.

Moreover, he no longer had to prepare the altar's energy himself. The powerful elf tribe had already prepared countless resurrection energies for him.

Whoosh—

Flames billowed with steam, carrying a rich, savory aroma into the air.

At this time, a grand feast of gourmet bonfire dinner was being held in the tribe of hundreds of elves.

The chef, now a peculiar little treant, was cooking food for them. The adorable young women surrounding him watched with eager, fervent eyes, constantly swallowing with anticipation.

"Alright, this is a cake I made using tree starch and a plant similar to yeast. You'll surely be enchanted by its delicious taste. And today's main dishes are roasted meat and grilled fish."

His expression was calm.

"Amazing!"

Cheers immediately erupted around him. A group of young women quickly grabbed their wooden bowls, filled them with food, and then swarmed him, dismembering Mumu.

"The arm is mine!"

"Hair, I want the hair!"

"I want his foot. Even though the smell makes my eyes water from the spice, for some reason, it's addictive."

Rip!

The elves swarmed him. After cooking the food, the chef was quickly torn into pieces. His pieces were then smeared onto the food he had prepared, as if it had become a sacred ritual.

"Delicious!"

"Spicy is the best!"

"Nonsense, it's clearly the garlic paste that's so savory!"

Some preferred spicy, others garlic paste—a variety of flavors.

Not far away, a newly born Seven Wonders Treasure Tree slowly emerged from the Hero's Altar. It observed the cheering, jubilant crowd of elves.

The young girl, Xilin, held a piece of cake, generously drizzled with soy-sauce flavored liquid. Her red lips were smeared with sauce, making her appear innocent and adorable. She walked over with an apologetic expression and spoke naively, "I didn’t realize the older sisters would follow me. I originally just wanted to eat you all by myself. Are we still friends?"

Mumu chuckled awkwardly, patting the girl's head. "It's alright, it's not your fault."

Xilin immediately brightened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "So, can I still be the first to eat you?"

Mumu: ???

"Yes!"

Mumu replied, quickly adapting to this life of being eaten.

He suddenly felt that such a life was very fulfilling. Having a group of innocent, beautiful young elf women accompany him daily, praising his gourmet food, and only needing to research culinary dishes while they eagerly prepared all sorts of ingredients for him, watching him with anticipation—this feeling of being needed provided more satisfaction than he had ever experienced as a chef in a prestigious venue.

"I am simply a chef who pursues gourmet food; becoming stronger doesn't concern me. Being a member of this tribe and continuously researching new dishes is a truly blissful experience." He gradually abandoned the thought of becoming more powerful.

Two full years passed.

His culinary skills became even more refined. Occasionally, he would feed the war trees.

The Night Elf tribe was among the weaker factions of the Eleven Ancient Trees. They had only just over three hundred elves and seventeen war trees. In contrast, the strongest Feather Elf tribe boasted over eleven hundred elves, more than seventy war trees, and had even enslaved a green dragon.

Previously, there had been relative peace. The stronger elf tribes were quite distant from them, and the neighboring elf tribes, though strong, weren't significantly more powerful than them.

However, as the unique gourmet food of the Night Elves spread, their reputation grew, attracting much attention.

"What are they eating? Such an enticing aroma!"

"If only we could taste it, then…"

Appetite, along with desire, is an innate pursuit of all living beings. Some would even pay a great price for food, including engaging in war. The neighboring Wind Elves, for instance, had grown to detest their simple, bland, and unappetizing food.

"Raid them."

Small-scale warfare erupted.

Casualties began to appear in the tribe. One by one, the young elf women with whom he usually chatted amicably were brought back, gradually succumbing to severe injuries and dying before his eyes.

As a chef, Mumu began treating their wounds. Chili peppers and garlic, both known for their antiseptic properties, were used for rudimentary wound care.

"The war trees we took, along with over a dozen of Big Sister Mixia's tribe members, have been captured." Three days later, this news arrived, and panic began to spread throughout the elf tribe.

Mixia was a dignified, mature elder sister among them, and also a close confidante Mumu often talked to.

"What will happen to them?" Mumu's voice trembled.

"They will be killed beneath the life tree, becoming nutrients for the next generation of Wind Elves. As for the war trees, they have defected to the enemy, becoming their tree servants. We would do the same to them."

War trees functioned like mercenaries. They followed whichever tribe provided them with food and tamed them.

In most cases, they didn't die but roamed between the various elf tribes.

"Perhaps… you should hand me over?" Mumu's eyes widened. It was his first encounter with true death.

These were living, sentient beings, whose faces and voices he knew, who had been laughing just days ago.

In reality, he was just a chef. Although he had slaughtered chickens, ducks, fish, and pigs without mercy, these were living, breathing people...

For the first time, he recognized the cruelty of life. This wasn't a game; this was a living, breathing alternate world, a true second life!

"How could we possibly hand you over? You are the treasure of our tribe. You can provide weapons manufacturing, healing, and delicious food. Without you, if we return to our previous simple lives, lacking such delicious food, what difference would it make if we were dead?" The surrounding elves shook their heads, adding, "Besides, there will be wars periodically anyway; you are merely the catalyst for this one."

With that, they picked up their iron spears and iron bows, and, leading the war trees, they initiated hostilities. "You've helped us advance our civilization. These weapons are a great aid to us. They may be stronger than us, but they might not be able to defeat us."

News arrived from the front line:

Another war tree had been captured.

Moreover, misfortune struck twice. It was said that the neighboring Wind Elves, feeling pressure, had decided to ally with the Water Elf tribe to completely eradicate the Night Elf tribe. They aimed to seize the secret of the Night Elf tribe's iron weapons and delicious food!

"I'm drawing too much attention. Hand me over," Mumu, inside the room, was trembling slightly.

Although he had a sharp tongue and a lot of suggestive remarks, as a chef, he had achieved some success in his own evolution, but he was completely clueless about warfare, cultivation, or becoming stronger.

"It's no use," an elf nearby suddenly spoke and walked out. "This is war; there aren't many reasons."

Mumu fell silent for a moment. He could only cook for the elves in the tribe but was powerless to do anything else, even though he had long considered all three hundred and more of them his family.

He stood on his treehouse, looking down at the entire elf tribe, which was now in peril. He fell silent again for a moment.

He quietly logged off. He had decided that his only option was to seek external help.

In truth, if he had wanted to escape this slave-like existence and stop cooking for the tribe, he could have sought help long ago. But he genuinely enjoyed this life.

Now, out of desperation, he was finally reaching out to the outside network!

The Alchemist Emperor of old had also sought help this way. However, the Alchemist Emperor had the means to resist, which is why others could assist him. What about himself?

He was the weakest, most delicious plant, with extremely low combat power. How could a chef possibly intervene in a High Elf war where the average combat power was Rank 4?

It was almost impossible, yet he still hoped that the all-knowing netizens could find a solution for him.

Soon, a post was published online:

Help Wanted in Another World: How can a chef resolve a tribal extermination crisis for an elf tribe? Reward: 50,000 Sand Coins.