Qin Fen had guessed the Four-Star Forum, but he hadn't guessed everything about the forum.

In the Meteor-level martial artist forum, posts about Four-Star or Three-Star martial artists never appeared.

Yet today, a battle video featuring a Four-Star martial artist had become the hottest thread on the Meteor-level forum. "Watch how a Four-Star martial artist dominates you Meteor-level martial artists." A Four-Star martial artist had arrogantly posted this provocative thread in the Meteor-level forum.

The first few seconds drew little attention; many clicked on it with the intent of watching a fool or a clown.

Soon, however, those who saw the video were genuinely stunned! Following that, those who had viewed the thread began replying in earnest. "Robert, why don't you just die?" "Robert, can you bring any more shame to the Meteor-level?" "Robert, from Hell City? Very good.

To restore honor to us Meteor-level fighters, you must destroy your Qitian Tower before you even touch the Dragon Hall." "Robert, you truly disgrace the Meteor-level.

To bully a Four-Star martial artist and then get thoroughly beaten by him.

If it were me, I'd have slammed my head into a wall long ago." All manner of vicious curses escalated on the forum like a torrential downpour.

Apart from these vicious insults, a group of people also left serious commentary and detailed speculations about the battle.

It was a pity that Qin Fen was completely unaware that he had inadvertently missed an excellent opportunity to learn.

Qin Fen opened his computer and first logged into the Super Taobao website, intending to check how high the bidding prices for his auctioned items had climbed.

The phone on his bedside table suddenly rang, forcing Qin Fen to abandon watching the prices and hastily answer the call, which had a unique ringtone.

Song Jia, Lin Liqiang, and Inzaghi.

Each of the three individuals had a distinct, special ringtone.

This calm yet profoundly impactful piece of music was the signal that Inzaghi was calling. "Outside the door." Qin Fen answered the phone, hearing Inzaghi's concise and sharp voice from the other end.

Potions! Qin Fen certainly hadn't forgotten about this matter; he had recently mentioned it to the Head Chef Instructor and received his approval.

Outside the military compound gates, Inzaghi stood quietly under the moonlight, bearing a massive backpack on his back that was by no means smaller than his own stature, clearly having made very meticulous preparations.

Qin Fen's lips curved slightly in mild surprise.

Inzaghi's standards were exceptionally high; for him to haul such a large backpack suggested that the Head Chef Instructor's actual strength was far beyond what they had imagined.

After quickly and simply completing the procedures for entering the barracks, Qin Fen, knowing his old friend well, omitted all pleasantries and led him directly toward the Chef's "territory." Upon reaching the entrance of the Chef's small canteen, Qin Fen and Inzaghi simultaneously retreated backward rapidly.

Just as the door slammed shut, it was violently shoved open from within, and a figure shot out with lightning speed and power...

The next instant, this figure reached the garbage bin just outside the door, followed immediately by sounds of violent retching emanating from his throat. "That was truly inedible...

How can food taste this awful...

Gag...

A chef like that should be fired..." The man, while vomiting, vented his outrage.

A glint of light flashed in Qin Fen's eyes as he watched Inzaghi.

This friend, whom he had never sparred with, displayed surprisingly potent evasion skills in that brief moment! He was far superior to Park Jong-hwan from Han Province! A flicker of appreciation also crossed Inzaghi's stern face.

He subtly raised his thumb toward Qin Fen: "First-rate." "Not bad.

Hard work always pays off," Qin Fen replied without false modesty.

Good friends didn't need polite deference; it only made things awkward.

After praising Qin Fen, Inzaghi shifted his gaze toward the soldier who was still retching.

Food that could induce such earth-shattering, ghostly wails of sickness—how terrible must it taste to reach that level? "To be honest," Qin Fen shook his head with a look of helplessness, "this food really isn't very good." Inzaghi's expression shifted to one of "understanding." In this world, there were very few things that could elicit such a mild critique of poor quality from his friend Qin Fen.

Since Qin Fen found it unpalatable...

Inzaghi unconsciously stroked his chin, beginning to speculate just how low the quality could possibly sink.

Pushing open the canteen door, Qin Fen saw the Head Chef excitedly counting banknotes, while the assistant beside him wore a look of profound suffering.

Evidently, in the bet between the two, Head Chef Instructor had once again emerged victorious. "Aiyo, why are you visiting at this hour, kid?" The Chef, having won the money, beamed wider than a red poppy: "Missing my cooking?" Qin Fen felt a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Even someone with a faulty sense of taste in this world probably wouldn't enjoy food that tasted like chewing on wax. "Instructor, this is the friend I mentioned to you previously..." "Oh, the one trying to pull strings?" The Chef smiled, sizing up Inzaghi: "He looks quite handsome, but I wonder about his skill level.

Seeing as it's Little Qin's favor, I'll give you a chance.

Pass the test, and everything else will fall into place..." Thump! The Chef waved his hand, and the assistant immediately placed a small basin piled high with rich-looking food in front of them. "Little Qin, don't you always like to gamble on things? Interested?" The Chef grinned, pointing at the bowl before Inzaghi: "Two hundred dollars." "Four hundred," Inzaghi sat down at the table and stated coldly: "Half." The Chef frowned, looking over at Qin Fen: "Kid, what did your friend say? I didn't catch that." The assistant beside the Chef nodded; he hadn't understood the meaning either.

Qin Fen smiled: "My friend doesn't talk much.

He's saying if we're going to gamble, it should be for four hundred; for you to offer two hundred against him isn't worth his entrance fee.

As for 'half,' he means that if I win, I have to give him half of the net profit, because this outcome is due to his effort in helping me win." The Chef and his subordinate stared, their mouths agape, before turning their gaze back to Qin Fen: "Freaks.

Four words are being translated to this extent.

You two are quite formidable—one speaks little, and the other can actually interpret it." Qin Fen felt a surge of pride in being able to decipher Inzaghi's cryptic speech.

Even Qiang Zi occasionally failed to interpret him; so far, only Qin Fen himself could fully decipher him.

Slap! Qin Fen decisively slapped his bank card onto the table: "I bet my friend can eat all of it!" This complete faith in his friend instantly boosted Qin Fen's confidence significantly.

This display made the Chef feel a slight twinge of worry. "Chef, I specifically added extra ingredients," the Chef's assistant whispered into his ear.

The Chef's expression quickly improved. "It's a bet!" As the Chef uttered those two words, Inzaghi began eating the food in the basin.

One bite...

pause...

a frown...

facial color shifting...

The Chef smiled; this reaction was completely normal.

According to routine, he should now bolt out the door at top speed to engage in merciless vomiting.

Pause...

pause...

Chewing! Swallowing! The Chef stared at Inzaghi in utter disbelief.

This young man was devouring the food in the basin at a speed almost matching Qin Fen's! Is this...

did Qin Fen's friend crawl out of a hungry ghost's reincarnation? The Chef watched in shock as Inzaghi finished the very last morsel.

Forcing down the final bite, Inzaghi's usually handsome face had taken on a greenish tint.

This was the most repulsive meal he had ever tasted in his life! If they were applying for a Guinness Federation record for the worst food, this would undoubtedly be the uncontested champion.

Inzaghi tossed his spoon aside and gasped for air in great gulps.

Consuming such a meal was more exhausting than an entire afternoon of intense gym training.

Inzaghi managed to calm himself slightly before looking up at Qin Fen and saying, "Thanks.

I lost out." "What? What did he say?" The Chef was completely bewildered: "Why does he sound like he's thanking you?" Qin Fen shrugged.

Inzaghi meant that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been able to finish it.

However, considering his brother had put up a hefty $400 bet, he couldn't betray his friend's trust, and under that conviction, he finished the most atrocious meal in history.

Old Yin meant that if he had known how terrible it was, he should have bet a thousand or more.

Four hundred, he feels, did not match his worth," Qin Fen offered a slight explanation for the latter word.

Clap, clap, clap...

The Chef applauded with genuine admiration: "Kid, as a pharmacist, you need immense endurance.

Your endurance is good, very good.

Much better than my useless apprentice here.

He only managed five bites before nearly fainting from throwing up." The assistant beside him kept rolling his eyes.

In this world, the only people who could manage five bites were Qin Fen and this current freak.

Inzaghi, who rarely praised others, now gave the Chef's apprentice a thumbs-up: "Not bad." "Stop flattering, kid," the Chef slammed his cleaver onto the table: "Whether you pass is up to me.

Next, I will test you on the second item.

Little Qin mentioned you only plan to study with me for three months.

I am very curious where you get that confidence.

Therefore, the second test will be on your pharmaceutical fundamentals..." Smack! In the canteen, the sound of Inzaghi slamming a metal box onto the table echoed: "Taste." The Chef's eyes widened with profound astonishment as he saw the soybean-sized pills in the box.

He reached in and retrieved one, first sniffing it repeatedly, then decisively licking it several times. "This...

you made this...?" The astonishment in the Chef's eyes had completely transformed into suspicion.

The skill required to make this medication absolutely should not be achievable by a first-year university student! If a freshman could accomplish this, many experts in pharmaceutical research units could collectively hang themselves.