I Just Wanted to Teach Cultivation, But Goddesses Keep Coming! Chapter 116 This Villain Has Too Much Dialogue

With a flick of his wrist, Lin Feng tossed a neat stack of gold coins directly onto Mo Yan’s chest and face.

The clinking of tal against tal rang out sharply, and the sound seed to reverberate through the tense silence of the restaurant.

Mo Yan’s eyes blazed with fury, his jaw tightening as his blood boiled.

"You’re courting death, boy!" he roared, his voice echoing like thunder across the room.

"I’ve eaten more salt than you’ve eaten rice! How dare a re junior speak with such arrogance in front of his elders! If you want to die that badly, I’ll grant you an early death myself!"

In a sudden surge of rage, Mo Yan slamd his hands against the table, ready to flip it and crush Lin Feng beneath it.

The air trembled with the force of his movent, his aura radiating danger and power like a storm about to break.

And yet... at that exact mont, sothing strange caught his attention.

Mo Yan froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing. There was a calmness radiating from Lin Feng.

Any ordinary mortal would have collapsed in terror by now... trembling, sweating, perhaps even wetting themselves while begging desperately for rcy.

But Lin Feng was not ordinary.

He remained seated exactly where he was, posture relaxed, shoulders loose, as if he were rely waiting for the next dish to arrive.

An almost irritating smile curved across his handso face... calm, confident, and faintly amused.

Mo Yan had sensed it.

Sothing was wrong.

And that realization stunned him in place.

"What’s... this?"

Mo Yan’s brows furrowed deeply.

He had been about to unleash his fury yet the mont he continued to move, sothing felt terribly wrong.

A violent nausea surged upward from his stomach without warning. It was not ordinary sickness.

It was sudden. Overwhelming. Absolute.

His throat tightened.

His vision blurred.

An unbearable urge to vomit twisted through his insides like a blade.

Mo Yan’s heart skipped.

He imdiately tried to circulate his qi.

Nothing.

His ridians felt blocked. His dantian, normally a roaring furnace of power, felt like a frozen lake.

Silent. Empty.

Cold dread crept up his spine.

"What did you..."

Before he could finish his sentence, his body convulsed violently.

He staggered to his feet out of instinct rather than strength.

His dark robes swayed as his legs trembled beneath him. Then...

Foam began forming at the corners of his mouth.

Small bubbles.

Then more.

Saliva spilled down his chin as his jaw trembled uncontrollably.

His limbs jerked awkwardly, like a puppet whose strings were being yanked at random.

The once-dominant gang leader now looked like a fish flopping helplessly on dry land.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Impossible.

He was half a step from the Foundation Establishnt Realm.

A man who had dominated Clear Moon City’s underbelly for decades. How could this happen?

He tried again to gather qi. Tried to roar. Tried to strike.

Nothing obeyed him.

His knees buckled.

Thud!

Mo Yan collapsed face-first onto the wooden floor. His body twitched once. Twice.

Then went completely still.

His eyes remained open... frozen in shock.

Silence descended.

A suffocating, unnatural silence.

For a full breath, no one moved.

Then chaos erupted.

"Boss?!"

"What happened to the boss?!"

"Boss! Say sothing!"

Several gang mbers rushed forward but skidded to a halt before touching him, fear overriding loyalty.

"I told you it’s Lin Feng!" one shouted hysterically. "He’s a witch! A demon cultivator! This is black magic!"

"Shut up!" another barked but his own voice trembled.

One of the n suddenly spat on the floor, panic overtaking him.

"Screw this! I didn’t sign up to die here!"

He turned and bolted toward the exit.

Two steps.

Three.

Then his body stiffened.

His arms locked mid-swing. His eyes bulged in horror.

A wet bubbling sound escaped his throat.

Foam spilled from his mouth.

Thud!

He crashed to the floor, limbs splayed awkwardly, unmoving.

The restaurant exploded into screams.

"Run!"

"It’s poison!"

"No... it’s a curse!"

But it didn’t matter.

One by one, as though an invisible executioner were walking through the room, the remaining Iron Rat Gang mbers began to fall.

A man near the wall clutched his throat—

Thud!

Another tried to leap through a window—

Thud!

Two collapsed together, knocking over a table as they went...

Crash!

Thud!

Within monts, the once-intimidating group of thirty-six hardened criminals lay scattered across the restaurant floor like discarded sacks of grain.

Chairs overturned. Bowls shattered.

Spilled soup pooled across the wooden planks, mixing with the foam dripping from lifeless mouths.

No visible attack had occurred.

No flash of qi.

No movent.

No strike.

Only Lin Feng.

Still seated.

Still composed.

He calmly reached for his tea, lifted the cup, and took a slow sip.

The faint clink of porcelain against wood echoed unnaturally loud in the stunned silence.

Outside, the crowd that had gathered gasped in collective horror.

"Thirty-six n..."

"All down..."

"And then there was Mo Yan too..."

"Did you see him move?"

"No."

Ling Lan stood frozen near the kitchen entrance, one hand covering her lips.

Her heart pounded violently, yet her eyes were locked on Lin Feng.

He hadn’t even looked at them.

Hadn’t raised a finger.

And yet... they had all fallen.

Lin Feng placed his cup down gently and resud eating as though nothing of significance had happened.

The scent of freshly cooked dishes still lingered in the air. Steam still rose from the plates.

But now the restaurant floor was littered with bodies.

And the only sound remaining...

Was the quiet, steady rhythm of Lin Feng’s chopsticks.

The crowd gathered at the doorway stood as if struck by lightning.

Not a single person spoke for several breaths.

They had seen it happen. Every second of it.

From Mo Yan’s arrogance... to his collapse... to the domino-like fall of all thirty-six Iron Rat Gang mbers.

And yet none of them could explain it.

There had been no flash of light.

No explosive surge of qi.

No visible strike.

No nothing whatsoever!