Cafeteria

Near noon, the orderlies began opening the ward doors one after another, driving the patients inside toward the cafeteria like herds of swine.

The cafeteria was quite perfunctory as well—a vast open space set with dense rows of wooden Desk Chair that showed obvious signs of having gone unrefurbished for a long time, their surfaces bearing the faint marks of insect infestation.

Wang Yong and the other man slowly walked into the cafeteria amidst the crowd of patients, while behind them, orderlies fiercely swung their Iron Rod. Anyone unaware of the situation would have thought they were in a prison.

Yet it was no different from a prison, and even more terrifying than one; here, basic safety of life could not be guaranteed.

At the very front there were only four food-serving windows, and the dishes were ridiculously crude. The rice gruel was so watery that the grains inside were barely visible, consisting only of pale-colored water with a few leftover vegetable leaves floating on top, some of which had already gone sour and carried a foul odor.

Never mind whether it killed the appetite; simply trying to survive on stuff like this meant one wouldn't even have the strength to hang oneself.

After following the crowd to queue and collect his portion of the lunch, Wang Yong placed his tray on the table without eating. The safety of food inside instances was low, and furthermore, this exam didn't last long; going a day without food would at most make one slightly hungry and wouldn't affect operations.

With thirty minutes for the meal, time was tight.

Wang Yong tried to converse with the patient mechanically eating next to him, but the man's expression was numb. Even though Wang Yong brought up countless topics, he couldn't coax the patient into speaking, as if Wang Yong didn't exist at all.

Refusing to give up, Wang Yong wanted to continue the conversation, but an orderly who noticed the commotion here walked over two steps and warningly raised the Iron Rod in his hand.

Left with no choice, Wang Yong had to stop.

Huang Yousheng's bleeding had already stopped, though his condition could hardly be considered good, and he had barely managed to break free from his terror-stricken state when his gaze suddenly locked onto the doorway.

"They actually came back completely unscathed," he muttered in disbelief.

Wang Yong wasn't far from him, and no rustle escaped his ears. Following Huang Yousheng's gaze, he saw several familiar figures currently walking in through another passage.

The surrounding medical staff neatly lined up in two rows, yielding a path for people to pass through.

The youth who had come out from the Dean's Office walked at the very front unhurriedly, and the moment he appeared, everything around him was reduced to a backdrop.

It was actually Bo Shuo.

Wang Yong clenched his fists fiercely, a wave of powerless and resentful bitterness eroding his heart like venom. If rules permitted, he would have even wanted to rush in front of Bo Shuo and demand in the sharpest tone—why, on what grounds.

Why had they experienced life and death at the Dean's, yet Bo Shuo had returned safe and sound, completely intact, without even a speck of dust on his hem?

This disparity stimulated a pool of stagnant blood in Wang Yong's chest.

Naturally, he hated Bo Shuo.

Before being selected into the exam venue, Wang Yong was a lowly bottom-feeder in society, and what he detested most were people similar to Bo Shuo.

Aloof and holding high positions.

Even the scraps shaken from between their fingers were things he could hardly obtain in a lifetime.

Other people's lives were brilliant and full of sunshine, while he could only become a rat crawling in the dark, exchanging his strength for a meager salary and even facing the landlord's, as a matter of course, delayed payments.

This suppressed, distorted emotion continuously accumulated at the bottom of his heart, ulcerating into pus, ready to spray venomous juices at the slightest touch.

And the exam venue was that needle.

Until the old order collapsed, Wang Yong discovered that those glamorous so-called white-collar and gold-collar workers were actually no different from lambs awaiting slaughter in the exam venue, weeping, begging, and screaming endlessly.

Just by letting a machete fall on their necks and pressing down gently, those annoying faces would turn completely grey and could no longer make noisy sounds.

Having risen to power overnight by virtue of his robust physique, Wang Yong naturally indulged in this; he hated everyone who was superior and stronger than him.

Especially those who looked down on him, repeatedly stole his thunder, and went against him.

And Bo Shuo occupied all of these traits.

He perfectly and precisely drew Wang Yong's hatred.

Yet unlike all the previous people, Bo Shuo was simply too outstanding, his intelligence and Martial Force both flawless to the point of being unimpeachable.

So much so that Wang Yong couldn't find a single opportunity to strike.

Even this time—the Dean's conversation hadn't managed to cause Bo Shuo the slightest bit of harm.

How could he not hate him.

Lost too deeply in thought, the iron plate was abruptly crushed out of shape by Wang Yong, its sharp corners scraping open his palm, which was covered in thick calluses.

Recovering from his initial shock, Huang Yousheng saw Wang Yong's gloomy expression and hurriedly shrank back a little more. His sleeve swayed with the motion, and phantom pains vaguely lingered, causing a venomous glint to flash in his eyes.

He no longer dared to tail Wang Yong now; there was no guarantee when he might be sold out by him.

This time it was just an arm, and next time it might well be his life.

Huang Yousheng naturally knew that losing his arm wasn't a coincidence, but rather that he had been completely used as a flesh detector probe by Wang Yong.

Wang Yong was a selfish person who only displayed kindness and loyalty on the surface, but the moment his interests were touched, he would have someone killed in a split second.