Chapter 30: The Dining Hall: Algorithm for Spiritual Energy Waste

Shen Yan stepped into the threshold of the dining hall, still holding that bowl of thin porridge. The steam hit his face, but he didn’t drink it. Instead, he stared at the flames beneath the pot for two seconds—their flickering rhythm was off. The Spiritual Energy input was steady, yet the fire waxed and waned unpredictably, as if being remotely tuned.

His phone vibrated.

【Detected residual unknown Encrypted Signal, recommend deep scan】

Without even lifting his eyelids, he casually handed the porridge to a young Disciple waiting in line beside him: “Hold this for me, don’t spill it.”

The person froze, clumsily taking the bowl. Shen Yan had already bent down and headed toward the main cooking area, muttering under his breath: “With this heat control, stewing a radish would take three rounds.”

Someone in the line recognized him as the newcomer from the miscellaneous duties peak and whispered: “Who is this guy? Bold enough to sneak into the dining hall’s restricted area?”

No one answered. Because the next moment, Shen Yan crouched down and lightly tapped the furnace’s foundation stone brick with his fingertip.

It was hollow.

And there was a vibration.

He curled his lips: “Well, well. Burning wood on the surface, stealing Spiritual Energy underneath. Even the Sect’s dining hall can run side businesses?”

His fingers swiftly swiped across the phone in his pocket, initiating the “Spiritual Power Flow Sampling Program.” The Screen instantly flashed a string of Data: input constant, dissipation rate over sixty percent, effective conversion less than forty percent.

“This isn’t waste,” he murmured. “It’s theft.”

Just as he was about to activate the reverse sensing array, a furious roar came from behind: “Where did this wild cultivator come from! Dare to touch my stove!”

Shen Yan turned around and saw a burly man with a greasy face charging toward him. His apron was stained with vegetable leaves and sauce, and he wielded a metal spatula, Spiritual Power surging, murderous intent palpable.

The cooking elder.

“I didn’t touch the fire,” Shen Yan retreated half a step, raising his phone. “I’m just conducting an energy-saving assessment, purely technical analysis, no charge.”

“Energy-saving?” The elder snorted through his nose. “You think this is a market stall, playing with calculations and accounts? Get out! If you dare approach the stove again, I’ll shovel ashes all over your face!”

Shen Yan wasn’t annoyed; instead, he nodded with a grin: “Understand, understand. Your cooking is hard work. But I just discovered that this furnace wastes the equivalent of three pounds of spiritual charcoal per incense stick. Converted to money, that’s at least eight hundred work points lost per month.”

The elder’s steps halted: “You… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Shen Yan stepped forward, lowering his voice, “someone connected a hidden line under the furnace, secretly diverting Spiritual Energy. You’re burning wood, while others profit from the Spiritual Energy. You’ve worked hard all your life, unknowingly serving as a Charge station.”

The elder’s face changed.

But before he could speak, Shen Yan suddenly crouched down, pressed his palm to the ground, and a faint glow flashed at his fingertip—a miniature Spirit Gathering array reverse-activated!

Hum!

The ground trembled lightly, and a fragmented pattern emerged between the brick seams, shaped like inverted Talisman Lines, with twisted veins, clearly altered later.

“Caught it,” Shen Yan narrowed his eyes. “Typical reverse Spiritual Energy guiding circuit, quite professional technique.”

“Outrageous!” the elder roared, swinging the spatula, Spiritual Power exploding. “Capture him! This kid is colluding with enemies!”

Shen Yan was prepared.

His fingers fiercely swiped three times on the phone—

【Initiate Distraction Program v0.3: Generate high-density Spiritual Power foam cluster】

Boom!

The entire large pot shook violently, erupting with a sky full of colorful bubbles! Each one reflected false images: some were bubbling Buddha Jumps Over the Wall stew, some were smoking Pill furnaces, and even a little pig wearing a bellyband danced on the pot lid.

“Ouch!” The elder swung his shovel wildly, “Sorcery! All sorcery!”

The disciples were completely stunned, the formation fell into chaos, someone reached out to grab a bubble, only for it to burst with a “pop” releasing a scent of scallions.

Shen Yan seized the chance to flip out of the stove area, completing the final operation as he ran—packing and uploading the collected Formation fragments to offline Cache, and marking:

【Encryption level: Tier C】

【Signal feature match rate: sixty-five percent】

【Suspectedly shares origin with Xie Wujiu’s jade thumb ring fluctuations】

He plunged into the back kitchen passageway, hiding behind the firewood pile, leaning against the wood stack to catch his breath.

His phone screen was still lit.

He stared at those fragmentary patterns, growing more convinced they looked familiar—not just Xie Wujiu’s handiwork, but more like some kind of universal Interface Protocol, like… a standard configuration of some organization.

“Shadow Erosion?” he murmured, “Even the cafeteria isn’t spared?”

Just as he pondered, footsteps approached outside.

“Search! Turn everything upside down for me!” the elder roared, “This kid definitely has problems!”

Shen Yan tucked away his phone, touching his lower back—the Silver-Thread Soft Armor against his skin felt hot, the injuries from last night’s cliff fall still throbbing faintly.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his chest pocket—the “Today’s Meal Supply List” he had grabbed from beside the stove earlier. His gaze swept over the ingredients column, suddenly stopping.

“Three ounces of spirit ginseng, five qian of Guiyuan grass… heat control: alternating gentle and fierce, lasting three hours.”

He smiled.

“The problem isn’t with the fire, but with the ingredients.”

His finger lightly tapped the paper, Initiating the “Herbal Activity Simulation Program.” Seconds later, results popped up: the spiritual peak of all herbs concentrated at noon, second quarter.

Yet the meal hall served food at the end of the morning hour.

“Starting the pot two hours early?” He shook his head, “Either stupid, or deliberately wasteful.”

If it was the latter…

He suddenly remembered something, opening his phone calendar.

Tomorrow, the Sword Flight final exam.

All core disciples of the Sect would gather, the meal hall must supply meals.

And on the night before the final exam, all candidates were to calm their minds and spirits, consuming soothing soup.

His finger paused.

“If… someone wanted a batch of people to perform poorly before the exam?”

Just as he thought, a “click” came from overhead.

A loose tile was lifted, a sliver of sunlight slanting down, illuminating the copper coin hair tie beside the wood pile—exactly the one picked up on the mountain path last night.

Shen Yan narrowed his eyes.

Around the edge of the hair tie, there was a circle of extremely fine scratches, like Runes carved out with fingernails.

He was about to pick it up for closer inspection when distant bell sounds rang.

Dong—dong—dong—

Three strikes, urgent.

It was the Steward hall summons.

“Moving quite fast.” He sneered, stuffing the hair tie into his inner pocket, switching his phone to stealth mode.

Footsteps outside grew closer.

Leaning against the wood pile, he slowly closed his eyes, as if resting.

Yet the Tip of his Finger still slid swiftly inside his pants pocket, a new Script quietly generating:

【Pending task: Night infiltration into furnace base area, Reverse Trace of spirit-guiding circuit】

【Trigger Conditions: Steward hall patrol concludes】

【Backup plan: If obstructed, Initiate “automatic pot scorching Program” to create chaos】

The bell’s lingering echoes hadn’t faded.

He suddenly opened his eyes, looking toward the cafeteria roof chimney.

White smoke curled, rising straight upward.

But in his Terminal vision, that smoke trajectory faintly pieced together a fragmented character—

Like “return,” or like “puppet.”

Shen Yan stared at that smoke, unmoving.

Until a gust of wind passed, smoke scattering, character vanishing.

He slowly let out a breath and whispered:

“You steal souls, I steal lives.”

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(End of Chapter)