Leveling Up By Surviving Alone - L.U.B.S.A Chapter 73

Whenever his father cooked ramen, he would add all sorts of ingredients. Ji Yeonwoo had inherited and perfected that method, mastering his own 12-star ramen recipe*—yet now, his father seemed to have completely forgotten that past, outright denying his own ramen philosophy. It felt like a betrayal.

 

His father, however, simply smiled warmly, shaking his head as if he already knew what Yeonwoo was about to say.

 

*—You’ve lost your way. Listen well. The end of all customization is purity.*

 

“But you used to add all kinds of things too, Dad…”

 

And now, Yeonwoo was cooking ramen.

 

The heat from the blazing pan warmed his cheeks.

 

As he poured oil into the pan, it sizzled—*Chiiiik!*—a fierce, fiery sound.

 

He tossed in the trimmed green onions, pre-soaked dried vegetable flakes, and finely sliced bamboo shoots, then began *wok-tossing* like a pro.

 

*Whoosh whoosh whoosh!*

 

The oil-coated vegetables spun in the air like a ribbon, flipping endlessly. When their moisture had evaporated just enough and a glossy sheen coated their surfaces, he added three spoonfuls of fine chili powder.

 

*Fwoosh!*

 

Chili powder burns quickly.

 

But if he added water before its raw edge mellowed, there’d be no point in infusing the oil with its flavor.

 

One second. Two. Three.

 

At exactly **3.5 seconds**, he poured in a ladle of water.

 

*Sssssss—!*

 

With just about 150ml of water, all the flavors he had painstakingly built condensed instantly, bringing it to a rapid boil.

 

Yeonwoo added the ramen seasoning and simmered it down, then—before it could scorch—poured in exactly 550ml of water.

 

*Bubble bubble bubble!*

 

The boiling surface.

 

The rising steam!

 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the explosive aroma.

 

The spicy chili fumes nearly made him cough, but he loved this sensation.

 

He dropped the ramen noodles straight into the boiling broth.

 

No stirring, no poking—just letting them soak up the flavor.

 

After **three minutes**, he lifted the noodles out—neither too firm nor too soft—and piled them high into a bowl.

 

*—The Watcher, who had been mesmerized by your cooking, voices a question.*

*—Aren’t they too undercooked? Why take them out so soon?*

 

This was the **best way** to preserve the perfect *al dente* texture.

 

Sure, they might seem undercooked now, but the residual heat would finish the job.

 

The broth, still boiling fiercely after removing the noodles…

 

*—The Watcher asks impatiently: When on hell are you adding the root octopus?*

 

“Heh. In **my** recipe, seafood goes in last.”

 

And so, Yeonwoo’s **knife show** began before the simmering broth.

 

*Slice slice slice slice!*

 

He separated a chunk of root octopus, roughly the size of a squid’s body, then cut it into **0.3mm-thick** slices.

 

Of course, he couldn’t slice through the skin—only the inner flesh, leaving the surface intact. After diagonal cuts, he flipped it and sliced again, creating a **grid pattern** perfect for curling in the heat.

 

*—The Watcher is stunned by your knife skills.*

*—Did you work in a Chinese restaurant? How did you get this good?!*

 

“I’ve worked at an *omakase* place, but never a Chinese restaurant!”

 

That was all in the past.

 

But the muscle memory remained—and soon, perfectly cross-hatched root octopus pieces were ready to dive into the broth.

 

*Bubble bubble bubble!*

 

He tossed in more bamboo shoot skins to intensify the heat.

 

As the boiling broth touched the octopus, the slits bloomed open like flowers.

 

*Heh.*

 

A smirk curled on Yeonwoo’s lips.

 

He’d been worried since it was a *root octopus*, not a regular one—but it seemed even this creature couldn’t escape its cephalopod nature.

 

The rich, spicy seafood broth.

 

It filled the bowl, submerging the *al dente* noodles beneath a **red ocean**.

 

Yes, an **ocean**.

 

A crimson sea where squid and octopus danced.

 

And into that sea—the essential **MSG**.

 

But this time, it wasn’t the usual *magic white powder*.

 

No, for this flavor, he needed something earthier—**magic brown *moo*-powder** (a.k.a. beef stock granules).

 

*Sprinkle sprinkle~*

 

And so, the **Root Octopus Squid Jjamppong Ramen**—based on Korea’s #1 ramen—was complete.

 

Yeonwoo ladled a serving into his bowl.

 

*“Ha…!”*

 

He reached for his camping chopsticks, then paused.

 

Instead, he grabbed the cheap wooden ones that came free with the ramen, snapping them apart like a *SsangSsang Bar* ice cream stick.

 

*Tap!*

 

They split perfectly.

 

The bright yellow chopsticks dipped into the deep red sea, emerging with a tangled heap of springy noodles and lotus-like root octopus petals.

 

*Slurrrp—!*

 

The **noodle pull** was **legendary**!

 

The burst of flavor in his mouth formed a *microcosmos*—no, a **tiny ocean**.

 

The *al dente* chew of the noodles, the occasional crunch of magic bamboo shoots, and above all—the **perfect elasticity** of the root octopus. **Divine.**

 

As the tiny ocean danced on his tongue, he lifted the bowl and sipped more broth.

 

*Gluuuurp…!*

 

*Thud.*

 

Eyes closed, savoring the sea he’d created, Yeonwoo gazed at the sky.

 

*—The end of all customization is purity.*

 

For a moment, he imagined his father’s stern face watching him.

 

Back then, he hadn’t been confident enough to say it—but now, he wanted to.

 

*‘Dad… I don’t think customization has an end.’*

 

Of course, he somewhat agreed with his father.

 

Ramen was delicious even plain—no additions needed.

 

So if he didn’t have ingredients, he wouldn’t go out of his way to buy them just for ramen, nor would he refuse to eat it unless he had extras.

 

But he still couldn’t agree with his dad’s rigid rule: *“You must always cook ramen plain if you can.”*

 

“How could I, when it’s **this good**?!”

 

As if agreeing with him, a notification chimed.

 

*—You have successfully cooked and eaten Root Octopus (AA)!*

*—Cooking satisfaction: 100%*

*—You may learn one of Root Octopus’s skills.*

*—You have 2 more chances to extract skills from this monster.*

*—Would you like to list the available skills now?*

 

*‘Just as I thought.’*

 

Yeonwoo had expected this.

 

After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard that **one ingredient could yield three cooking attempts**.

 

The same had happened when he hunted the **Elite Rift Bull Shark Juvenile**.

 

An elite monster—and **three cooking chances** from its meat.

 

He’d assumed the root octopus would be similar.

 

After all, he’d earned **50 Rift Coins** from it—five times more than the bull shark’s measly 10.

 

He’d expected at least **double the attempts**, but three was still plenty.

 

Either way, he planned to cook it two more times to maximize his skill extraction.

 

*—The Watcher asks how it tastes.*

*—No, scratch that—it obviously tastes amazing, so hurry up and give them just one bite!*

*—Not that they’re impatient or anything. But they’ve already split their chopsticks, you know?*

 

“Pfft. Just say *‘Hurry up! Give me some!’* slowly, next time!”

 

*—The Watcher awkwardly suggests you could’ve just cooked a bigger batch.*

 

“Nah! Then it wouldn’t taste the same!”

 

Cooking **more than one serving** at once **ruined the flavor**.

 

After countless trials and failures, he’d learned the hard truth: **Ramen tastes best as a single serving.**

 

But had there **never** been a time when Yeonwoo needed to cook ramen for multiple people?

 

Of course there had—so he already had a solution.

 

In fact, his cooking pan was already **cleaned and reheated**, ready to go.

 

“Just **five more minutes**!”

 

*Sssss—!*

 

The process for **Squid Jjamppong Ramen** began anew.

 

At its core, ramen was **simple**.

 

Add water, seasoning, boil—done.

 

Sure, Yeonwoo’s modified recipe turned it into **gourmet cooking**, but after making ramen this way **countless times**, he could enjoy his meal **while** prepping the next batch.

 

Even while stir-frying ingredients—*slurp!*

 

*Slurrrrp!*

 

Yeonwoo ate happily, yet his speed never slowed.

 

In fact, with the root octopus prepped, he moved **even smoother** than before.

 

**Serious about eating. Serious about cooking.**

 

The two mindsets didn’t just add up—they **multiplied**, creating an **artistic culinary spectacle**!

 

It was a mesmerizing display, radiating a strange magic that left even the Watcher (and the other creatures) spellbound.

 

*Munch munch…!*

 

**Kim Kkokko** had never eaten *processed* ingredients before. As a wild creature, this was all new—**cooking** was alien enough, but **eating cooked food**? **Mind-blowing.**

 

So she snacked on magic bamboo shoots like popcorn, utterly engrossed.

 

And the baby **Aris**, barely days old?

 

*Gasp…!*

 

They could only watch in awe as Yeonwoo **consumed and produced** simultaneously.

 

By the time the next dish was done…

 

*Poof!*

 

It vanished into thin air.

 

Seeing this, Yeonwoo smiled—just as another notification arrived.