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Chapter 560
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 15:01:04 +0000 UTCChapter 560
Under the attention of the crowd, the Elite Ten Challenge was finally about to begin.
Countless people had gathered at the Moon Institute—or more precisely, at the outer area of the Moon Institute. It wasn’t just tourists; there were also student's parents and chefs from the World Zone.
But before the actual Elite Ten Challenge could start, there was one more event: the transfer student exam.
When Ron heard this term, a slightly strange expression crossed his face.
The Moon Institute was divided into two sections: a junior division and a senior division. Most senior division students were promoted directly from the junior division because the Moon Institute scouted and recruited all talented chefs early on. However, there were always a few who slipped through the cracks. For that reason, the Moon Institute implemented the transfer student exam system.
Within a certain age range, young chefs who hadn’t attended the junior division could take the transfer exam. If they passed, they would be admitted into the senior division.
However, the difficulty of this transfer exam was extremely high. What the Moon Institute wanted were lost geniuses—not students who merely scraped by. As a result, those who passed were usually among the top tier of their age group.
The exam took place in a very large plaza, and the format was simple: sales volume.
Victory was decided by the number of confirmed tastings. Transfer students would prepare their dishes in the plaza, and the Moon Institute would randomly select one hundred spectators from nearby to receive tasting privileges.
Only if eighty or more people approved a dish would it be considered a pass.
But with different people came different palates, and it was no easy task to win over eighty out of one hundred people. On top of that, there was inherent competition—if multiple students prepared the same type of dish, guests would compare them, and the one with the weaker offering would certainly lose out.
Each round of the transfer exam included several dozen candidates, all of whom had already been screened. And yet, among those dozens, usually only two or three passed.
The elimination rate rivaled even the Hunter Exam.
"Ron."
Menchi came over to Ron’s side.
"Here, these are for you."
She handed out four tickets—transfer exam judge passes. With these, Ron and his group would act as tasting judges for the candidate's dishes and cast votes based on their assessments.
"Is this really okay?" Ron didn’t take them immediately.
"Of course," Menchi replied. "Transfer exam judges don’t necessarily have to be professional chefs or gourmet critics. The hundred tasters are randomly selected from the public anyway."
Only then did Ron accept the tickets.
"Have fun. I’ve got work to do."
"Alright, see you later."
After the matter with the Fallen One was resolved, Menchi and the others had entered an even busier state. Ron understood the reason why.
The squad sent by Gourmet Paradise to deal with the Fallen One wasn’t just the four of them. But while Ron, Menchi, and the rest kept the Fallen One occupied for a long time, no other teams showed up. It wasn’t because they hadn’t received the alert—Menchi had sent it right away, and other squads did the same.
The reason they didn’t respond was because some internal issues had emerged within Gourmet Paradise. But before Ron and the others returned, Linne had already cleared out those problems—or rather, the people causing those problems.
As a result, many positions had suddenly been vacated. No one was left to handle various responsibilities. Ron suspected that Linne’s proposal for a council member selection tournament likely had something to do with this.
A host was now introducing the structure of the transfer student exam. At the center stood a massive platform.
"Candidates whose names are called, please step forward!"
One by one, examinees emerged from the crowd and ascended the platform. Ron recognized a familiar figure—it was the young man from the shop in the World Zone.
"Now, will the selected judges please come forward!"
Ron and his companions followed the crowd and stepped up onto the platform, drawing many envious glances from all directions.
"The transfer student exam begins now!"
While waiting for the candidate's dishes to be served, Ron glanced at the crystal orb visible only to him. The World Zone had already contributed fifteen percent toward his Observer progress. The battle with the Fallen One had added another three percent, and combined with various scattered points of progress, Ron had now reached twenty percent.
He estimated that the transfer exam should yield at least a few more percentage points.
Soon, the first dishes were ready. The judges queued up to taste them.
"The flavors are pretty good."
"As expected of those eligible for the transfer exam. They’ve already been screened once by the Moon Institute."
"On average, they’re clearly stronger than the chefs from the World Zone."
Ron moved through the line until he stood before the boy from the shop.
"You’re that customer from the other day, right?"
"That’s right."
"The dish I made today is a bit different in style from the one you had back at the shop, but it should be just as good—hopefully it won’t let you down."
Ron gave a brief smile without responding. Though they had met once, it didn’t mean Ron would show favoritism.
The transfer exam determined the fate of many people. It had to be fair.
If Ron’s vote ended up deciding the future of two candidates unjustly, that wasn’t something he wanted to see.
He took the dish and stepped aside to sample it.
Misty, Shizuku, and Sally also brought over their portions. Ron took a small bite and his eyes lit up.
"Not bad."
"Better than what I had at his shop that day."
"Maybe this is actually the style he’s best at."
Time passed steadily. For chefs, cooking wasn’t just about technique—it was a physical task as well. Preparing enough food for so many judges was no small feat and required intense stamina.
Ron could clearly see sweat pouring in large drops from the candidate's foreheads. Some had already soaked through their clothes and rushed to change, careful that the scent of sweat wouldn’t affect the flavor of their dishes.
The transfer exam continued all morning.
"Time’s up."
"Candidates, please stop cooking."
"Judges, begin your scoring."
Just as the examinees breathed a sigh of relief, nervous tension quickly returned to their faces.
