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Under the collective gaze of every Spirit Hall member present, the dignified Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School actually tipped back an entire basin of "Jade Soul Immortal Moon Dew" in one breath—
not a single drop left.
After setting the bowl down, he let out a long, tremblingly satisfied burp.
"Burp~… Comfortable."
Ning Fengzhi slowly opened his eyes, face full of spiritual aftertaste.
Then his smile stiffened.
The restaurant was dead silent.
To his left, Bone Douluo froze mid-bite—half a pork hock stuck in his mouth, not swallowing, not chewing. Just staring.
To his right, Sword Douluo quietly shifted his chair half a foot away, lowered his head, and resumed eating with tiny, refined bites—
the face of a man saying: "I do not know this person."
Across the room, the dozen-plus Spirit Hall Titled Douluo had also stopped.
Their eyes carried a thousand complex emotions:
"As expected."
"I knew it."
"Tsk tsk tsk."
"I'm embarrassed for you."
Chrysanthemum Douluo even leaned over to whisper—quite audibly—into Ghost Douluo's ear:
"Old Ghost, look at that. A country bumpkin is still a country bumpkin. Pretend all you want, but once you eat, the peasant spirit bursts out."
"The continent's richest man? Where's the etiquette? Did a dog eat it?"
He wasn't loud, but everyone here had hearing rivaling beasts.
Ning Fengzhi's face heated instantly.
But the continent's number one support Spirit Master didn't earn his reputation through fragile pride.
The embarrassment lasted exactly 0.3 seconds.
Then—expression unchanged—he placed the jade bowl down, picked up a napkin, and gracefully dabbed the corners of his mouth, as if the barbarian chugging had been some stranger behind him.
Facing the schadenfreude of Chrysanthemum Douluo, his signature gentle, dignified smile returned.
"Elder Yue Guan, you flatter me."
His tone was smooth, unhurried, dripping with the poise of a high lord.
"I have been frail since childhood. Unlike your venerable selves, my daily meals consist only of light soups. I have never before tasted such divine nectar… so I momentarily lost my composure."
The Spirit Hall members rolled their eyes so hard they nearly ascended on the spot.
Still—because the senior was present—no one dared press him. They resumed eating, though they couldn't help shooting occasional "city folk watching villagers" glances at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's table.
Ning Fengzhi ignored them completely.
He had only one thought left:
Lottery. Draw. Now.
A reward capable of pushing a level 94 Titled Douluo up a whole level…
What would it do to him, a mere Spirit Saint?
After paying the bill, he straightened his impeccable Sect Master robes, then bowed deeply to Lin Feng.
His voice trembled, though he didn't notice it himself.
"Senior… this Ning has finished his meal. I humbly implore you to grant me your blessing."
At that moment, every Spirit Hall member's heart sank.
It's starting.
The inevitable moment has arrived.
Lin Feng didn't even open his eyes.
The system's smug, gloating voice chimed in his mind:
"Consumption: 5000 gold coins."
"Evaluation: A sensible leek. Knows when to advance or retreat. Has etiquette. Can be given a little sweetness."
"But!"
The system's voice sharpened, practically vibrating with petty vengeance:
"His precious daughter, Ning Rongrong, cursed this system last time! She scolded me to high heaven!"
"This grievance must be avenged!"
"Host, give the father a reward…
Then tell him what his daughter did."
"Let him personally discipline that brat!"
"Reward locked: Spirit Quality Evolution — Seven Treasure Glazed Tile → Eight Treasure."
Lin Feng chuckled inwardly.
Such a tiny-hearted, petty system…
I like it.
Helping his own system vent felt far more satisfying than helping some pink-haired brat.
He finally opened his eyes slightly, his voice calm:
"Your reward—Spirit evolution."
Before Ning Fengzhi could even comprehend the words—
Lin Feng casually pointed.
Buzz—!
A terrifying power enveloped Ning Fengzhi.
His Spirit—the seven-colored pagoda—was forcibly pulled from his body, trembling violently in his palm.
"Crack!"
A soul-deep shattering sound echoed through the restaurant.
Before everyone's stunned eyes, the pagoda's topmost layer burst into dazzling purple light.
Light condensed.
Shifted.
Transformed—
Forming an entirely new—
Eighth layer.
Seven colors became eight.
Seven layers became eight.
Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo shot to their feet like they'd been struck by heavenly lightning.
The continent-famous twin Titled Douluo duo just stood there, dumbfounded.
"This… this—!"
Across the room, the Spirit Hall group clicked their tongues in unison.
"Damn it."
"That old fox got lucky."
As for Ning Fengzhi himself…
It was as if his soul had left his body.
He stared at the eight-layer pagoda in his palm, unmoving, unblinking.
"Sect Master?"
Sword Douluo's voice trembled.
Ning Fengzhi slowly raised his hand.
And—
"SLAP!"
He hit himself so hard that half his face instantly swelled red, his crown knocked askew, long hair falling loose like a madman.
"Sect Master!!"
Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo panicked.
But Ning Fengzhi raised a hand to stop them.
He felt the burning pain on his cheek—
and then ecstasy exploded across his entire face.
A laugh ripped out of him, raw and wild, utterly unlike the refined Sect Master he'd been seconds ago.
"Hahaha… Hahahahahaha!"
"It's real! The pain is real!"
Tears poured down his cheeks.
"Father! Grandfather! Ancestors!"
"Did you see it?!"
"The dream of generations of our Ning family—"
"The shackles binding the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School for a thousand years—"
"Today, in my hands—"
"Shattered!"
He laughed like a madman.
He cried like a child.
Then—
In full view of every Titled Douluo present,
Ning Fengzhi fell to his knees with a heavy thud.
"Senior's grace of rebirth…"
"My Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School will never—ever—forget it!"
Even Spirit Hall's hardened veterans felt their sourness dissolve into pure shock.
But just when everyone thought Lin Feng would lazily wave his hand and tell him to rise…
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He didn't even open his eyes.
He simply let Ning Fengzhi kneel.
A faint, unseen pressure radiated from the rocking chair—light as mist, yet so heavy every Titled Douluo felt a tremor in their hearts.
Just as Ning Fengzhi began feeling something was wrong—
Lin Feng's calm voice drifted out:
"You are Ning Fengzhi?"
_____________________
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