I Just Wanted to Teach Cultivation, But Goddesses Keep Coming! Chapter 117 Is it a Bloodline Limit or Just Poor Plumbing?

Lin Feng had not even stood up.

The silence was suffocating.

Then, like a dam breaking, whispers began to spread.

"Did you see him move?"

"No... I swear he didn’t."

"Then how did he do it?"

One middle-aged cultivator swallowed hard, his voice trembling.

"Lin Feng didn’t even touch them... and yet their ridians were sealed instantly. Mo Yan couldn’t circulate a single strand of qi."

Another man nodded vigorously.

"That wasn’t poison. It couldn’t be. Poison takes ti. This was imdiate."

"Even Mo Yan... a peak Qi Condensation expert fell without resistance..." soone added quietly.

The implications of that statent weighed heavily on everyone present.

Mo Yan was not so small fry. He had dominated the underworld of Clear Moon City for decades.

He was rumored to be only half a step away from Foundation Establishnt.

And yet...

He had collapsed like a powerless mortal.

"I believe," an elderly spectator murmured, stroking his beard with shaking fingers, "that everyone in this city has been underestimating Lin Feng."

Several heads turned toward him.

"We thought he was rely talented. Bold. Maybe a bit eccentric," the old man continued. "But this... this is sothing entirely different."

A younger cultivator spoke up, eyes wide with realization. "He’s not just crossing cultivation stages... he’s leapfrogging entire realms."

"And he did it while sitting down," another whispered.

The phrase repeated itself quietly through the crowd.

While sitting down.

The more they thought about it, the more terrifying it beca.

Lin Feng had not displayed aggression. He had not shouted. He had not even frowned.

He had simply eaten his al.

And thirty-seven powerful n had fallen.

A strange mixture of awe and dread filled the air.

"Lin Feng... is not simple," soone finally said.

That sentence carried weight.

It was no longer gossip. It was no longer speculation. It was acknowledgnt.

Inside the restaurant, the bodies of the Iron Rat Gang mbers remained scattered across the wooden floor.

So lay face-down, others on their backs with eyes wide open, frozen in terror.

Overturned chairs and shattered bowls painted a chaotic picture of what had once been a gang’s show of force.

And in the center of it all...

Lin Feng calmly picked up his tea cup.

He took a slow sip.

The faint clink of porcelain against the table sounded unnaturally loud in the stunned silence.

When his gaze casually drifted toward the doorway, the effect was imdiate.

Every single person outside stiffened.

Heads lowered.

So even took involuntary steps backward.

No one dared et his eyes for more than a heartbeat.

It felt as though a mountain had glanced in their direction... silent, immovable, absolute.

He hadn’t threatened them.

He hadn’t spoken to them.

Yet the pressure radiating from him made their breathing uneven.

Several cultivators who had once scoffed at his na now felt cold sweat soaking their backs.

"If he can suppress Mo Yan so effortlessly..." one man whispered, "what would happen if he truly tried?"

No one answered.

They did not want to imagine it.

Outside, word had already begun spreading like wildfire.

People further down the street were asking what happened. ssengers ran to nearby markets.

Shopkeepers leaned out from their stalls to get a better look.

Lin Feng finally rose from his seat and gave a small, almost helpless shake of his head, as though the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"It’s truly difficult to find peace these days," he said calmly. His tone wasn’t loud, yet every single person... inside and outside the restaurant heard him with absolute clarity.

His voice carried effortlessly, smooth and steady.

"Even when I’m just eating quietly, soone always finds a creative way to disturb ."

The words weren’t shouted. They weren’t angry.

They were... disappointed.

That sohow made them even heavier.

The spectators at the doorway instinctively lowered their heads.

No one dared respond.

Lin Feng then turned his gaze toward Ling Lan.

The sharp, unreadable look in his eyes softened imdiately.

A faint apologetic smile appeared on his handso face, the earlier coldness vanishing as if it had never existed.

"Please continue cooking, Chef," he said gently. "Don’t let this ruin the mood. I’ll take care of the bodies."

His tone was so casual it almost felt surreal.

Ling Lan stood frozen for a mont, her heart still pounding from everything that had just happened.

Thirty-six n... including Mo Yan... all collapsed in seconds.

And yet Lin Feng was apologizing for disturbing her cooking.

She nodded faintly, though her hands trembled.

Lin Feng gave a light wave of his hand and began dragging the bodies away one by one.

No one stepped forward to assist him.

Not because they were unwilling.

But because they were terrified.

Each ti he bent down and lifted one of the fallen gang mbers, the crowd outside stiffened.

The once-feared Iron Rat Gang now looked pitiful... limp, powerless, utterly defeated.

Mo Yan, who had strutted in with dominance and authority, was carried out like discarded trash.

Thud.

His body landed outside the entrance.

Lin Feng returned without a word.

Thud.

Another body joined the pile.

Over and over again.

The sound of lifeless weight hitting the stone street echoed like a silent announcent to Clear Moon City...

The Iron Rat Gang was finished.

So of the fallen n had foam dried along their lips.

A few had lost control of their bladders in pure terror before collapsing.

The once-intimidating thugs now looked no different from frightened children who had wandered sowhere they should not have.

Lin Feng paused briefly when he noticed the ss left behind.

He sighed quietly.

"I suppose fear makes n forget themselves," he muttered.

He disappeared briefly into the back of the restaurant and returned with a bucket of water and a mop.

Without pride.

Without complaint.

He began cleaning.

The scraping sound of the mop sliding across the wooden floor echoed in the heavy silence.

He wiped away spilled broth, shattered porcelain fragnts, streaks of saliva, and other less dignified stains.