There must be something wrong with me
Chapter 140 - 82 New World [Growth Explosion] (5.6K)_3

Chapter 140: Chapter 82 New World [Growth Explosion] (5.6K)_3

Zhang Feng was there, but not yet eighteen.

Of course, for summer jobs, sixteen is enough.

But these restaurants don’t want to invite trouble for themselves.

Zhang Feng didn’t mind, took his steamed buns and pickles, and went to the eighth shop ahead.

"Boss, are you short on staff here?" With straightforwardness, Zhang Feng walked to the counter and asked directly without feeling embarrassed, "I’m here for a summer job, I’m sixteen."

"Let me see." The boss looked at Zhang Feng’s ID card and then asked, "Do your family know?"

"I’m from Limen Orphanage." Zhang Feng pointed in the direction of the orphanage, "It’s about four blocks from here."

"Oh." The boss handed Zhang Feng’s ID back and advised, "Young man, you should go home and apologize to your parents instead of running away in anger.

If your parents come looking for you one day and hear you say this, they might not want to hit you but they’ll overturn my stall."

"..." Zhang Feng didn’t speak because the responses from the seven previous places were similar.

All thought he had sneaked out.

After all, he didn’t have proof from the orphanage, which was closed.

Of course, he could choose to go to the police station to clarify his identity, but he would re-enter the orphanage sequence.

But having come out, he wanted to explore on his own.

"Without choosing a family, and not taking shortcuts, making big money before eighteen is indeed difficult."

Zhang Feng left the restaurant, casually taking out a steamed bun to eat.

Meanwhile, Zhang Feng looked at his wrist, and within ten minutes, a meridian began to vibrate.

As long as it’s a familiar meridian, Zhang Feng can activate one in ten minutes.

The powerful fit, along with a relaxed mind.

Made Zhang Feng’s meridian activation speed now much better than before.

Just in this short afternoon till now, he had opened all meridians for Eight-Step Chasing Cicada and Hard Qigong.

Including over half of Demon Subduing Fist.

In contrast.

Zhang Feng now needed to eat a bun every twenty minutes.

"The nutrition is too little, a bit unable to keep up with the consumption."

Zhang Feng continued to walk, looking ahead at a stretch of night market stalls.

"Boss, fifty yuan worth of skewers again!"

"Come on! Drink!"

This area was lively, the night market stalls with their distinct open tents lined up row by row.

Smelling the aroma, Zhang Feng quickened his pace in eating the buns.

As he passed by the first few major stalls, they had attendants inside.

Zhang Feng directly moved on, walking continuously until reaching the rear stalls; ahead was a small park built near the city’s river.

As Zhang Feng reached the end, he noted the last stall.

The owner, around forty, was grilling skewers himself with only one of the eight tables occupied.

Zhang Feng glanced around and approached, "Boss, I’ve studied barbecue for some years, why not let me try? Maybe business would be a bit better?"

"You?" The boss glanced at Zhang Feng and again at the bun in his hand, then laughed, "Young fellow must be hungry? Today I’ve prepared more stuff, looks like it won’t sell out.

What do you want to eat?"

"I’ll do it myself." Seeing the boss mistook him for a beggar, Zhang Feng placed his bun down, preparing to show his skills.

To let him know that the ’Chef Zhang’ of intermediate cooking isn’t just for show.

...

Four years later.

Night, night market.

"Boss Zhang! Is the dish ready?"

Same stall, same place.

The previous owner returned to his hometown three years ago.

Zhang Feng took over the stall.

"Almost!"

Whew—

High flames captured the juices, Zhang Feng’s strong arms wielding the large iron wok like it was child’s play.

Swoosh~

Dish poured into the plate.

"Come and take it yourself."

Zhang Feng spoke vigorously, his muscular frame revealed by a sleeveless shirt, exuding robust muscles.

At a glance, like a heavyweight professional boxer from TV.

Yet in truth, Zhang Feng turned twenty today.

"Alright!" The person was a regular customer, fond of Zhang Feng’s cooking, came eagerly, not intimidated by his physique.

Because they knew Boss Zhang was quite friendly.

"Boss Zhang, I need a fried noodles at my stall!"

At this time, the opposite stall owner shouted to Zhang Feng, "Extra spicy!"

"Alright." Zhang Feng nodded with a smile, grabbing a chicken leg with one hand while continuing to stir fry.

The chef’s craft was his old trade, Zhang Feng worked happily, and ate contentedly.

Cooking for his customers and himself.

Now, the stalls had increased to 20.

Plus, his tasty dishes attracted several surrounding stalls.

"Boss Zhang, noodles! Want authentic Xiangjiang style!"

Just then, the boss diagonally opposite also called out, "Some guests from Xiangjiang say you can cook those dishes!"

"Alright." Zhang Feng nodded smilingly, and the hand that just finished the chicken leg started preparing the noodles.

Handling each task effortlessly, Zhang Feng maintained diverse power flow with ease.

But before the noodles were done.

Zhang Feng’s gaze suddenly fixed, looking at two men approaching from the distance.

They seemed to be browsing the night market, choosing what to eat.

’Both of them have Eight Trigrams Step, their skills seem okay.’

Zhang Feng glanced at them, then checked his body constitution [83]

All meridians opened, blood concentration fully coagulated, Spirit Awakening 94%.

’Stable after four years, it’s developed enough, reaching the stage of Prince World’s return.

Back then not exactly muscular, only about 82.7.

Beyond that, explosive growth isn’t possible.

So let’s see what this world’s martial arts practice is like.’

Zhang Feng pondered, suddenly halting his cooking, silently leaving the stall.

"Boss Zhang, why’d you stop?"

Several customers nearby, and the opposite stall owner, expressed doubt seeing Zhang Feng pause.

Because Boss Zhang usually wore a cheerful face, but something seemed amiss today.

Meanwhile.

The two Eight Trigrams Sect members noticed a burly man emerging from the stall ahead, walking straight toward them, sparking curiosity.

Zhang Feng stopped five steps before them, amidst many onlookers’ curiosity, clasped his hands and spoke:

"Zhang Feng, no sect nor school, yet self-taught in martial arts, seeing the two embody the Eight Trigrams Step, you must be martial artists. Thus, I hope you can introduce me to see the martial arts world."

"How did you know we practiced Eight Trigrams Palm?" A young man frowned, scrutinizing Zhang Feng without discerning any sign,

"Did someone tell you?"

"No." Zhang Feng answered frankly, "I noticed the true essence of your Mud Walking was grasped, so I discerned."

’Grasped three-fourths? Arrogance!’ The middle-aged man became incensed and wanted to test Zhang Feng, but recalled something, turned, and whispered to the young man:

"Ignore him, why talk so much to an outsider?

Look at him, with no marks, clearly half-baked skills, hearing about us somewhere.

Talking to him is shameful, maybe someone pointed us out, pushed this brute forward to mock us."

"Right!" The young man felt similarly, "I was ready to spar with him but hearing you, it does seem possible.

Once we’ve beaten him down, rumors would say we bullied ordinary people."

"Understandable." The middle-aged man nodded, preparing to leave.

But in the next moment, as they turned.

Boom!

Zhang Feng suddenly exerted power, cracking a brick beneath him.

In everyone’s brief bewilderment.

Zhang Feng had already crossed the five-meter gap, reaching the startled two, still polite with clasped hands, "Zhang Feng lacks skill, but hopes you can guide me to see the martial arts world."