I Just Wanted to Teach Cultivation, But Goddesses Keep Coming!-Chapter 118 Your Cheeks Are Softer Than Your Sword Technique
The scent of soap slowly replaced the sour stench.
The spectators watched in stunned disbelief.
Lin Feng had just erased a gang.
And now he was mopping.
Somehow, that image was more unsettling than the fall of Mo Yan.
It meant he did not see what he had done as extraordinary.
It was simply... maintenance.
Within minutes, the overturned chairs were straightened.
The wooden floor regained its polished sheen.
The tables were restored as if the chaos had never happened.
The restaurant returned to its peaceful atmosphere.
As though thirty-seven men had not just collapsed moments earlier.
Ling Lan, still shaken, resumed cooking.
The steady rhythm of her knife against the cutting board slowly returned.
The sizzle of oil filled the air again.
Life... resumed.
Lin Feng washed his hands carefully, scrubbing each finger with deliberate thoroughness.
He dried them with a clean cloth and returned to his seat.
He sat down.
Picked up his chopsticks.
Then paused.
He stared at his hands for a long moment.
They were steady.
Clean.
Unstained.
"My hands are still innocent," he murmured quietly, barely above a whisper.
His fingers flexed slightly.
"Still free of blood."
There was no pride in his voice.
No regret either.
Just observation.
He leaned back slightly, eyes distant for a fleeting second.
"I wonder how long that will last."
The words were soft, almost contemplative like a man aware that the path before him would not remain so clean forever.
Outside, no one dared to speak loudly.
The pile of unconscious bodies at the entrance was a silent warning.
And inside the restaurant, Lin Feng calmly resumed eating... each bite measured, each movement composed like a man who had not merely defeated a gang...
But brushed dust off his sleeve.
Another hour passed before Lin Feng finally set down his chopsticks.
He had eaten at an unhurried pace, savoring every dish as if the earlier chaos outside had been nothing more than a passing drizzle.
The last of the delicious broth was drained, the final morsel of tender meat swallowed, and only then did he wipe his lips with a silk handkerchief, his movements calm and refined.
By that time, more than a dozen city guards had arrived.
They surrounded his table in a loose circle, their armor clinking faintly as they shifted their weight.
The captain, a burly man with sharp eyes, stepped forward.
"State your name," he demanded.
"Lin Feng," he replied casually, leaning back in his chair.
"And your relation to the incident outside?"
Lin Feng blinked, as though genuinely confused. "Incident? I was simply eating."
The captain’s brow twitched. "Those men were found foaming at the mouth. Unconscious. You expect us to believe you know nothing?"
Lin Feng shrugged lightly.
"I truly don’t. One moment I was enjoying the chef’s excellent cooking. The next, they were on the ground blowing bubbles like children playing in a pond."
A few guards struggled not to laugh.
The captain narrowed his eyes. "You did not leave your seat?"
"No."
"You did not make a move?"
"No."
"You did not even raise your voice?"
Lin Feng smiled faintly. "Why would I? The food was delicious."
The guards were skeptical. However, the restaurant was full at the time.
Dozens of witnesses had seen everything clearly. One by one, they were questioned.
"It’s true," an elderly man insisted. "Teacher Lin Feng never stood up."
"He didn’t even glance their way," a young cultivator added.
"I was watching the whole time," said another. "He didn’t touch them."
Faced with consistent testimonies, the captain finally exhaled through his nose.
"Very well. You may go. But if we find otherwise..."
"You won’t," Lin Feng replied smoothly.
With the matter settled, the tension in the room dissipated.
Lin Feng calmly approached the counter to settle the bill.
Ling Lan stood there, her eyes still slightly red from the earlier fright.
Her delicate fingers trembled as she calculated the total cost.
When she announced the sum, Lin Feng did not even glance at it.
He placed a huge bag of gold coins on the counter.
The sound it made when it landed was heavy. Too heavy.
Ling Lan froze.
"D-dear customer, this is far more than the bill."
"A tip," Lin Feng said lightly.
She opened the bag and gasped softly.
It was not an exaggeration to say that this amount alone could keep her humble restaurant running for years even if she never had another customer.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Thank you so much, dear customer... I don’t know how I can ever repay you." Her voice trembled as she bowed deeply, tears falling freely.
She was smiling and crying at the same time, overwhelmed.
Lin Feng shook his head gently.
"No thanks are needed. The food was worth it."
He paused, then added in a calm tone, "If you encounter any trouble in the future, come to Spirit Spring Academy and ask for me."
Ling Lan nodded repeatedly. "I will remember this kindness for the rest of my life."
As for Mo Yan, who had previously cast a shadow over her business, he had been thoroughly neutralized.
With him gone... at least for now... Ling Lan finally dared to hope.
Perhaps her restaurant would no longer live in fear.
"Farewell, Chef," Lin Feng said as he turned toward the exit. "I truly enjoyed your cooking today."
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the street as he stepped outside.
The earlier commotion had already been cleared away.
Only faint scuff marks on the stone pavement remained as proof that anything had happened at all.
Lin Feng clasped his hands behind his back and walked forward leisurely, his expression serene.
But beneath that calm exterior, his mind was already moving elsewhere.
There were still many matters to attend to.
And he had a destination in mind.
He arrived at the clan in a slow, unhurried stroll, each step measured and comfortable, as though the world itself had slowed down to accommodate him.
After all, there was a certain urgency for a man who could live forever.
