"Fuck!!!"
Yang Yi roared in fury, knowing he had fallen for the Feast Master's tricks again. They truly were impossible to guard against; he should never have looked into it.
When he came to his senses, he had entered that scene he knew so well and missed so much once again.
It was an extravagantly luxurious, magnificent hall, seemingly hosting a grand banquet.
Every seat was occupied. Diners sat in groups everywhere, all in suits and leather shoes, elegant and richly dressed, eating in an orderly fashion.
Yang Yi sat at the very outermost edge, alone at a table barely the size of his palm. On it sat an utterly plain piece of White Bread, and his seat was a small stool.
His inexplicable roar drew the gazes of many diners. Every face was expressionless, and even as they looked at Yang Yi, they never stopped eating, exerting an inexplicable pressure.
Yang Yi felt he had been rude and wore an apologetic expression. The diners then turned back and continued eating.
The hall was strangely quiet. None of the diners spoke to one another; there was only the sound of swallowing and eating.
"What am I...?"
Yang Yi's mind felt completely blank. Looking at the White Bread on the plate before him, he suddenly understood everything.
"Right, I came here to eat..."
Bang!
As though some instinct had activated, Yang Yi's right fist made contact with his head at negative distance. The impact was loud, but it drew no attention from the other diners.
After that punch, Yang Yi's memories returned all at once. He knew he had fallen into this bizarre illusion again and had nearly lost himself.
Right now, in reality, he reckoned he was feasting on the Feast Master's flesh, so he absolutely could not linger. He