The cafeteria doors opened with a quiet creak as Yang Feng stepped inside, greeted by the sound of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of plates. The room was alive with energy, students from various parts of the eastern labds, all sharing this brief moment of normalcy in the academy. A faint scent of cooked meat and fresh vegetables filled the air, mingling with the murmur of voices, lending the large hall a surprisingly homely feeling.
He glanced around, observing the organized yet lively scene. A long line of students stretched from the food counter, each waiting patiently to be served. Some students were already seated, eating with friends and acquaintances, while others waited eagerly in the queue, their faces a mix of hunger and anticipation. Yang Feng noticed that all the students here wore the bronze uniforms, like himself. Each level in the cafeteria seemed to reflect a rank in the academy, with bronze level students occupying this entire floor.
Yang Feng joined the line, feeling the weight of his journey settle as he stood among his peers. Eventually, he reached the front, where a tall man with a somewhat disinterested expression handed him a plate. Yang Feng nodded his thanks, clutching the simple white plate as he moved forward in the line.
A woman with an apron, her hair tied back neatly, ladled a portion of rice onto his plate, followed by a serving of tender meat cooked with vegetables. She handed him a glass of dark, purple grape juice, filling his plate and cup with a practiced efficiency. Yang Feng bowed slightly in gratitude, then scanned the room, his gaze drifting over the tables. Most were half-full, groups of students eating and laughing together, filling the cafeteria with lively chatter.
Yet he found an empty table in the far corner, untouched by the buzz of the room. Deciding he preferred solitude, he made his way there, slipping into the seat with an almost unnoticed presence. He looked down at his food: the rice was fluffy and steaming, the meat tender and coated in a light sauce that glistened invitingly under the lights. The vegetables had been cooked to a perfect crisp, vibrant and colorful beside the rich, purple juice that seemed to glow faintly in the glass.
Yang Feng took a bite, savoring the taste. "Not bad," he murmured to himself, appreciating the flavors. This quiet moment of enjoyment, however, was short-lived.
A sudden noise broke through the normal hum of voices—a commotion nearby, where a small group of students had gathered around a single boy who sat alone. Yang Feng's eyes drifted in their direction, observing as a few older students closed in on the boy, their faces twisted into sneers. The boy, whose eyes were cast downward, clutched his tray defensively, seeming to shrink as the bullies surrounded him.
"Loser," one of the bullies taunted, swatting the boy's tray, sending his food scattering across the table. The boy flinched but said nothing, his face a mask of quiet fear.
Yang Feng watched from his corner, choosing to remain uninvolved. It wasn't his fight, he reminded himself. In his past life, he had seen countless scenes like this, and he knew the consequences of standing out, of stepping into matters that didn't concern him. Still, he couldn't fully ignore the scene unfolding before him.
The bullies grew bolder, emboldened by the boy's silence. One of them, a tall student with an arrogant smirk, reached over and grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting him up and forcing him to stand on tiptoes.
"Listen up!" the bully shouted, his voice booming across the cafeteria, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "To all,newbie bronze levels. This is what happens if you go against the Big Three, you hear me?" His words hung in the air, laced with menace as the boy gasped, struggling to breathe under the grip that tightened around his neck.
Yang Feng's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he watched the boy's face turn red, struggling for air. Yet, he kept his own emotions in check, unwilling to intervene as the bully released his grip, letting the boy drop back to the ground with a brutal shove.
The boy stumbled, crashing onto Yang Feng's table. His tray flew across the surface, scattering Yang Feng's meal onto the floor. Grape juice spilled, pooling on the table, and the scent of rice and sauce lingered faintly in the air.
Yang Feng's eyes darkened, a spark of anger flickering as he looked down at the wasted food. He stood up, fists clenched, feeling a surge of irritation rise in him. But in the last minute managed to cool down. "They're not worth it," Yang feng thought to himself,heading to the boy who lay down and extending a helping hand. "Get up," yang feng said to the kid,as he extended his hand to him.
Seeing yang feng's helping hand, the bullies had turned their hostility toward him, their eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge.
One of the bullies sneered, appearing behind yang feng, he slapped his hand on Yang Feng's shoulder. "Hey, guys, look! We've got a hero here!" His voice dripped with mockery, and his hand dug into Yang Feng's shoulder, an obvious show of dominance.
Yang Feng met the bully's gaze, his voice dangerously low. "Take your hand off me."
The bully chuckled, undeterred. "Oh, we've got a spiteful one here, huh? What are you going to—"
But before he could finish, Yang Feng's hand shot up, gripping the bully's wrist with a strength that belied his seemingly calm demeanor. With a quick, precise movement, he twisted, and the sharp, unmistakable sound of bone cracking echoed throughout the cafeteria.
The bully's scream pierced the air, his face contorted in pain as he clutched his broken wrist. His friends rushed to his side, their eyes wide with shock. Murmurs rippled through the cafeteria, students whispering among themselves as they watched the scene unfold.
"Did he just… break his hand?" one student whispered, disbelief written across his face.
"Is he crazy?" another murmured, staring at Yang Feng as if he were something otherworldly.
Yang Feng, however, remained impassive. He turned his back on the bullies, his eyes cold and distant. But one of the remaining bullies, desperate to save face, called out, "Hey! Stop right there!"
Yang Feng turned slowly, his gaze leveled at the boy who had spoken. His voice was calm, but his words carried an unmistakable weight. "Do you want your hand broken too?"
The bully froze, his courage faltering under Yang Feng's unyielding gaze. He took a shaky step back, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a response, but no words came. Yang Feng gave him one last, icy glance before turning away, his focus shifting back to the boy still on the ground.