Chapter 77: The Extortion & The Corrupt Inspector

The bright morning sun violently pierced through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of Villa Number One at the Dragon’s Peak Pavilion.

Rick stood shirtless near the massive, self-heating infinity pool, completely satisfied with his absolute, heaven-defying conquest over the untouchable corporate queen.

Inside the master bedroom, Victoria was lying completely naked and exhausted on the expensive silk sheets, as her mature, jade-like body was heavily covered in dark bruises and sticky white fluids.

Rick casually took a slow sip of cold water, looking out over the glittering city skyline thousands of feet below him, as a sharp, mechanical chime violently echoed directly inside his skull, completely cutting through the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the mountain fortress.

[Ding! Quest Triggered: Expand the Empire!]

[Objective: A true Culinary Emperor does not just rule a single kitchen, as he must actively devour all worthy competitors and monopolize the Dao of Culinary Arts! Evaluate the highly-rated local establishment known as ’The Golden Spatula’ for immediate acquisition into the Peninsula network!]

[Reward: +2% Chef Occupation Progress!]

Rick read the glowing blue text floating in his vision, as a dark, highly villainous smirk completely stretched across his face, entirely ready to claim more territory for his rapidly expanding empire.

He turned away from the sleeping, thoroughly wrecked Chairwoman, as he walked into the massive walk-in closet, completely ignoring the rows of multi-million-dollar bespoke suits, choosing instead to simply throw on a plain black hoodie and a pair of faded dark jeans.

Rick knew exactly how the corrupt, arrogant elites of this city operated, so he deliberately chose to wear cheap, casual clothes, because looking like a broke commoner was the absolute best way to bait arrogant frogs into digging their own massive graves.

He walked out to the pristine, imported cobblestone driveway, as the twenty elite mercenary guards instantly snapped into a violent military salute, completely bowing to their absolute god, while Rick casually swung his long leg over his matte-carbon Ducati Superleggera V4.

The deafening, beastly roar of the twin-turbocharged engine violently shattered the silence of the mountain peak, as Rick twisted the heavy throttle and tore aggressively down the winding roads, heading straight toward the commercial district with blinding, illegal speed.

Twenty minutes later, Rick parked the thirty-million-dollar hyper-bike in a secluded alleyway, as he casually strolled down the busy street, entirely radiating the suffocating, oppressive aura of a hidden apex predator.

He approached a modest but impeccably clean storefront, as he pushed the heavy glass doors of ’The Golden Spatula’ open, noting that the small, high-end restaurant was completely empty during the mid-morning prep hours, smelling heavily of rich, simmering broths and perfectly roasted garlic.

Standing behind the pristine wooden counter was Chef Gordon, an older, heavily wrinkled man wearing a spotless white chef’s coat, who immediately looked up and offered a warm, genuine smile, completely ignoring Rick’s cheap black hoodie and casual demeanor.

"Welcome, young man," Chef Gordon greeted politely, entirely lacking the arrogant snobbery of the typical high-society culinary elites, as he wiped his hands on a clean towel.

"We are technically closed for prep right now, but if you are hungry, I can easily serve you a fresh plate of our signature braised pork belly."

"Bring it," Rick stated lazily, sitting down at a wooden table near the back corner, entirely ready to test if this mortal possessed any actual culinary Dao worth buying.

Ten minutes later, the older chef walked over and placed a steaming, beautifully plated dish directly in front of Rick, as the rich, deeply intoxicating aroma instantly triggered Rick’s passive ’Absolute Taste’ skill.

Rick picked up a fork and took a single bite, as his system-enhanced brain violently went into absolute overdrive, instantly breaking down the exact chemical makeup, cooking temperature, and flawless flavor profile of the dish.

He could literally taste the decades of sheer, unadulterated dedication and honest hard work infused into the meat, completely realizing that Chef Gordon possessed a true, honest mastery over his ingredients, making this small restaurant an absolute goldmine for the Peninsula’s future expansion.

"Perfect," Rick muttered to himself, as he took another massive bite, fully intending to offer the old man a multi-million-dollar buyout contract the absolute second he finished eating.

But right before Rick could even swallow his food, the heavy front doors of the restaurant were violently kicked open, completely shattering the peaceful, quiet atmosphere of the dining room.

Stomping aggressively into the restaurant was Inspector Vance, a snooty, middle-aged man wearing a highly flashy, tacky designer suit, as he carried himself with the disgusting, suffocating arrogance of a corrupt government official who firmly believed he was entirely untouchable.

Vance violently kicked a wooden chair out of his way, completely treating the immaculate restaurant like an absolute garbage dump, as he marched right up to the front counter, entirely ignoring Rick sitting in the back corner.

"Gordon!" Vance sneered maliciously, his grating voice echoing loudly, as he looked around the dining room with absolute, unfiltered disgust.

"I am here for the annual regional review, and I have to say, your pathetic little kitchen is looking completely outdated and completely unworthy of our prestigious brand!"

Chef Gordon’s face instantly turned a violent shade of pale white, as he practically rushed out from behind the counter, bowing his head in pure, terrified submission, because the Michelin star was the literal lifeblood of his entire business.

"Inspector Vance," Gordon stammered nervously, his hands shaking as he desperately tried to appease the arrogant official, "We have maintained our single star for ten years with absolute perfection... Our hygiene is flawless, our ingredient sourcing is top-tier, and our food is cooked with absolute dedication..."

"Your food means absolutely nothing to me!" Vance roared arrogantly, completely cutting the old man off, as he aggressively slammed a heavy, highly encrypted official Michelin tablet directly onto the wooden counter with a loud crack.

"The culinary world runs purely on money and connections, you ignorant old fool!" Vance mocked crudely, completely exposing his deeply corrupt nature without a single shred of shame.

"If you want to keep your precious little star this year, you are going to pay a flat one hundred thousand dollar administrative fee directly into my personal offshore bank account by noon, or I will entirely revoke your status and bankrupt your miserable life!"

"One hundred thousand dollars?!" Gordon gasped in pure, unadulterated horror, as tears of pure desperation welled up in his tired eyes, his knees physically trembling.

"Inspector, please! My profit margins are incredibly thin! I am just an honest cook trying to survive and feed my family! I absolutely do not have that kind of money!"

"Then you are completely useless to me, you broke peasant," Vance threatened ruthlessly, puffing out his chest, ready to destroy decades of the old man’s hard work just to line his own greedy pockets. "I can crush ants like you with a single swipe of my finger, so you better start begging for a loan!"

"Hey," a deep, heavily oppressive voice suddenly echoed from the back of the restaurant, instantly dropping the room’s temperature to freezing levels, as the suffocating killing intent completely filled the air.

Inspector Vance turned his head, as his arrogant eyes locked onto Rick, completely judging the plain black hoodie and faded jeans, entirely failing to see Mount Tai looming violently in the shadows.

"You are being entirely too loud, and you are actively ruining my meal," Rick stated lazily, as he took another casual bite of the pork belly, completely unbothered by the so-called powerful inspector standing just a few feet away.

Vance’s face instantly turned a violent shade of crimson red, as his massive, fragile ego was entirely shattered by the blatant disrespect from a perceived street rat.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you dirty beggar!" Vance shrieked hysterically, as spittle flew from his lips, pointing a shaking finger directly at Rick. "Do you have any idea exactly who you are talking to?! I am a Regional Michelin Inspector! I hold the absolute power of life and death over every single kitchen in this entire city! I can crush you like a worthless bug!"

"You are nothing but a glorified food blogger with a fake digital badge and a pathetic, low-tier extortion scheme," Rick mocked crudely, a dark, highly villainous smirk completely stretching across his face, entirely unbothered by the loud barking of a crippled dog.

"You are actively courting death!" Vance roared maliciously, as he aggressively grabbed his official, heavily encrypted Michelin tablet, turning his venomous, hateful glare back to the weeping Chef Gordon.

"You want to act tough, kid?!" Vance sneered maliciously, his fingers flying rapidly across the digital screen, completely blinded by his own massive arrogance. "Watch exactly what happens when you offend the heavens! I am revoking this restaurant’s star right here, right now, just to teach you a brutal lesson in absolute power!"

Vance aggressively smashed his fat finger down on the glowing red ’REVOKE’ button, as the tablet chimed loudly, officially updating the global registry and completely erasing The Golden Spatula from the elite ranks.

"There!" Vance laughed maliciously, looking at Rick with pure, unadulterated triumph, entirely acting like a victorious king who had just conquered the mortal realm.

"The restaurant is officially dead! His entire life’s work is completely ruined, and it is entirely your fault, you ignorant piece of trash!"

Rick did not panic, nor did he yell, as his dark smirk simply grew into a terrifying, murderous grin, completely amused by the pathetic frog jumping around at the bottom of the well.

Without saying a single word, Rick casually reached into the pocket of his black hoodie and pulled out his sleek titanium phone, completely ready to log into his absolute, 15% controlling stake owner portal and show this corrupt inspector exactly who literally ruled the global culinary heavens.