The Lovely Heiress Is Actually A God Beast

After the waitress snapped out of it, she strode over with big steps, pointed at the shattered table, and yelled at the short White Person, ”You have to pay for this! You must pay!”

A flood of comments scrolled past in the live stream:

[Respect, you’re a real one!]

[Sis, you’re a hero!]

[So badass so badass so badass!]...

It was the first time the short White Person had ever had someone yelling at him with a finger in his face, so his temper flared up too. On top of that, the hunger already made the Hungry Ghost irritable. He swung his fist straight toward the waitress’s face.

The Chef rushed over, but was already too late. Even though Grandpa Mei’s flagship store manager had roller skates on and was also charging toward the ”crime scene,” his speed was still no match for the flying fist.

Seeing the pretty waitress’s face about to take a brutal hit—one punch and who knew if she’d turn into a swollen ”pig-head”—at this critical moment, as the live-stream viewers were all screaming ”Save her!”, a tiny figure stood up. The little boy wasn’t tall enough, so he climbed onto a chair and stuck out one small hand.

This hand had also been ”modified” by Lou Lan; it was no longer a chubby little paw full of dimples, but had the clear, bony definition a little boy’s hand should have.

”Oh my god, no!” Grandpa Mei’s flagship store manager shouted, terrified that the little boy’s hand was about to get broken just like that.

The Chef also sucked in a sharp breath, panic rising in his chest.

The waitress had already been scared silly. She hadn’t expected to be hit, and even less that such a young little man would actually have the courage to block a punch. You had to know: that very hand had been the culprit that smashed the table to pieces just a second ago.

She was afraid that in the next second, the little man’s small hand would be shattered like the table.

She squeezed her eyes shut in fear, her body trembling.

By her ear came a soft murmur of comfort, like a warm spring breeze blowing into her heart: ”Jie-jie, don’t be scared. I’ll protect you!”

The waitress was moved to the verge of tears. It had never occurred to her that, at a moment like this, the only one protecting her would be a little man—and not only was this little man not afraid, he even had the spare mind to comfort her!

The fist cut through the air; it was too late to change its trajectory. The short White Person hadn’t expected a child to rush in. Now that he’d calmed down a bit, all he could do was instinctively lean back to lessen the force a little, but he knew that even with the force reduced, there was no way the little boy’s hand would come out intact.

Right as the Chef and Grandpa Mei’s flagship store manager, along with the shop’s bodyguards, were charging over, and the viewers in front of their screens were screaming, the fist slammed into the little boy’s palm.

It looked like it hit the palm, but the short White Person, who was right there, knew that his fist had been wrapped up!

His fist felt like it had sunk into soft cotton, and he couldn’t exert any strength at all!!!

Impossible!

He’s just a kid!

And I’m a thousand-year-old Spiritual Body!

A Ghost Cultivator who’s trained for a thousand years!

Could it be that this body is just too trash, so it’s causing this kind of mistake?

Something’s off...

It’s this little boy that’s off, not this body being too trash!

He stared warily at Little Taotie with a strange, probing look, faintly sensing a trace of danger.

In fact, he had already noticed from the very beginning that Little Taotie and the other person were both girls. He just hadn’t thought much of it at the time, only assuming they were disguising themselves so people who knew them wouldn’t recognize them and realize they were the Big Stomach King. But now it didn’t seem to be just that. Maybe... they had come for him!

With that suspicion in mind, the short White Person turned and ran.

His sudden attempt to run at this moment inevitably made it look like he couldn’t afford to pay for the table and, having just hit a child, was scared of being punished—so he was fleeing out of guilt.