Ning Rongrong was awakened by a barrage of noise.
Her consciousness felt submerged deep underwater, struggling to float up.
For a few seconds, her mind was blank.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What happened?
Then—
the terrifying scenes before she fainted surged back like a tidal wave.
Dai Tianfeng's ruthless cruelty.
Chrysanthemum Douluo's mocking sneer.
The Elders watching her like spectators at a play.
And that one sentence that completely shattered her—
"At least your arms and legs are still there."
She jolted upright from the cold floor, her first reaction to check her body.
Hands—present.
Feet—present.
Shaking, she touched her arms and legs, confirming they were still attached.
Only then did she breathe out in relief.
Thank goodness…
Thank goodness her father wasn't Dai Tianfeng.
But the next moment, she froze.
The restaurant was empty.
The mysterious senior who spoke with absolute authority—gone.
The peerless Supreme Pontiff, reduced to a humble servant—gone.
That group of terrifying Titled Douluo who could make the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School tremble—gone.
Everyone had disappeared.
The entire Feng Ran Pavilion held only her, lying alone on the cold floor.
What happened?
Where did they all go?
Just as Ning Rongrong was overwhelmed with confusion—
Outside the restaurant, a heart-wrenching shriek suddenly tore through the night.
"Ahhhhhh—!!"
"My chicken wings! My chicken wings are burnt again!"
"Why! It was just a little bit off! Just a tiny bit more and they would've been cooked!"
The agony and despair in that voice were enough to make any listener burst into tears.
Ning Rongrong nearly ascended on the spot.
The moment she heard the scream, she instinctively flopped back onto the floor with a thud, eyes squeezed shut, breath held.
Playing dead.
This was the only safe strategy she could think of.
Seconds ticked by.
The expected scene of being discovered and kicked into paste never came.
Outside, the chaotic uproar continued.
After over ten seconds, Ning Rongrong dared to crack her eyes open.
No one entered.
She waited again.
Still safe.
Like a frightened kitten, she crawled to the window using both hands and feet, squatting below the sill.
Her heart pounded wildly as she took several deep breaths before slowly peeking her head up.
And then—
She saw a scene she would never forget for the rest of her life.
A scene that shattered, overturned, and forcefully reconstructed her worldview on the spot.
Outside the restaurant, the open space was now filled with tables and chairs.
All the Titled Douluo of Spirit Hall were gathered around small burning grills, each one busy in utter chaos.
The entrance of Feng Ran Pavilion was engulfed in a complex mixture of aromas—meat fragrance, charred stench, and hopeless despair.
If Lin Feng's table was "A Bite of Douluo"…
Then every other table was "Approaching Science: The Mystery of Spontaneous Skewer Combustion."
And the source of the earlier tragic wail?
None other than Spirit Kite Douluo—the only female Elder in the Hall of Elders, notorious for her fiery temper.
Right now, she was holding a pitch-black skewer, crying to the moon.
The tears fell like rain.
If one insisted on calling the thing on that stick "chicken wings," it wasn't impossible.
After all, the shape vaguely resembled chicken wings.
But the color was indistinguishable from the charcoal bricks beside it.
Ning Rongrong's gaze shifted to the table in front of Spirit Kite Douluo—
And she nearly fainted again.
On the table sat a small mountain of blackened lumps:
chicken wing charcoal, rib charcoal, oyster charcoal…
The burnt smell clawed through the window into her nose.
Eventually, Spirit Kite Douluo had cried enough.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, threw the "remains" onto a plate, grabbed a fresh skewer, and declared furiously:
"I don't believe in this evil!"
Gritting her teeth, she laid the skewer on the grill, staring at it without daring to blink.
Ning Rongrong stared blankly.
What… what was this?
Devil Bear Douluo was anxiously pacing around his half-cooked meat skewer.
Finally, unable to wait, he opened his enormous mouth and stuffed the half-raw, half-burnt meat inside.
"OW—OW—OW—!"
He scalded his tongue while chewing.
Then he gulped down a cup of yellow liquid, sighed in bliss, took another bite of meat, and repeated the cycle.
Ning Rongrong looked elsewhere.
The situation of the many big shots from the Worship Hall was no better.
Thousand Jun Douluo and Demon Subduing Douluo were arguing heatedly about whether to add salt first or brush oil first—
and were seconds away from fighting each other.
As for Golden Crocodile Douluo—the second 99th-level Titled Douluo in the Worship Hall…
He sat in dead silence.
Expressionless.
In front of him lay a fish on the grill.
Or rather—
a fish corpse roasted into charcoal jerky.
The fish's jaw hung open, its hollow eyes accusing him of all its suffering.
Golden Crocodile Douluo simply stared at it.
Perhaps pondering the meaning of life.
Or maybe just doubting life entirely.
Aside from Lin Feng's table—where he personally cooked—
not a single soul had managed to grill anything edible.
Ning Rongrong's mind exploded.
Squatting beneath the window, her little head buzzed violently.
Her entire worldview, values, and understanding of life—built over years—were being mercilessly crushed by the absurdity unfolding before her.
Is this… Spirit Hall?
The terrifying force feared by empires and the Upper Three Sects?
She didn't dare watch anymore.
These weren't Titled Douluo—
they were clearly a group of mentally unstable food addicts.
She was about to lie back down and continue playing dead when, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure descending from the sky.
Bone Douluo!
He's back!
Bone Douluo set Zhu Zhuyun down and prepared to report the earth-shattering news about Tang Hao.
But the moment he looked around—
He froze.
What in the world…?
The entire entrance was a chaotic battlefield.
Titled Douluo huddled around stoves, covered in soot, looking like they had crawled out of a coal mine.
A wave of greasy, smoky meat smell assaulted him.
Tang Hao?
The Sect Master's safety?
All of it vanished from his mind.
I'm hungry.
His gaze swept like a radar—
and locked onto Devil Bear Douluo, who was closest to him.
Right now, Devil Bear Douluo was trembling with excitement, holding a skewer in both hands, smiling like a proud father at graduation.
The skewer—slightly charred outside, golden inside—sizzled with oil.
This was the only perfect "survivor" he had grilled tonight, after sacrificing hundreds of "skewer brothers."
His pride!
His medal of honor!
Shaking with emotion, he slowly lifted the sacred skewer toward his mouth.
He could already imagine the juicy, crispy bliss bursting on his tongue.
Just as his lips were about to touch the meat—
A blur passed.
Devil Bear Douluo felt his hand lighten.
"…Huh?"
Where's the skewer?
Where's my huge skewer?!
He slowly raised his head—
Only to see Bone Douluo chewing.
Gu Rong bit twice, savored it thoughtfully, then commented with expert seriousness:
"Mm. Not bad."
"Just a bit overcooked. A little tough. Pay attention next time."
And then—
he used the skewer to pick his teeth.
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