The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 177: The Consequence of Being in the Limelight

Several students looked ready to argue on John's behalf, but he raised a hand to pause them.

"Let's stay calm, everyone," he said.

The classroom went silent once again.

"I actually agree with this student," John said, his voice composed. "I'm not here to put on a show. I'm here to teach Traditional Chinese Medicine. So let's talk about that... and let's start with you."

He pointed straight at the hedgehog-haired boy, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

'You want attention? Fine. I'll give you attention,' John thought. 'Let me teach you a lesson in the language you understand best—humiliation.'

"Wait, what do you mean start with me?" the boy asked, clearly thrown off.

"You're unwell," John said, his tone suddenly weighty, almost solemn.

Did... did he just insult me? the boy blinked, momentarily confused.

"Have you been experiencing constipation lately?" John asked, his voice perfectly even.

Gasps echoed through the classroom.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.

It was then that the students realized—John wasn't insulting him. He was diagnosing him.

Still, the hedgehog boy wasn't ready to play along. His face twisted with defiance. "Don't talk nonsense! I think you're the one who's constipated. I'm perfectly healthy!"

But the moment he'd heard the word constipation, something had shifted in his expression. Surprise flickered in his eyes—he had been struggling with it.

But no way was he going to admit that in front of a whole classroom. And especially not to John.

He folded his arms, determined to deny everything and make John look like a fool.

But John just kept smiling. "How about you stand up and let me have a look?"

"Fine! I've got nothing to hide."

With a snort, the hedgehog boy stood, instructing his girlfriend to scoot aside. He glared at John as if daring him to find something wrong.

John observed him carefully, then nodded. "From the appearance of your face and the dullness around your lower eyelids, I can tell your digestive tract is inflamed. You've probably eaten too much spicy food lately, and the excess heat in your stomach and intestines is draining moisture from your bowels. That causes dryness and—yes—constipation."

"Bullshit!"

The boy was just about to launch into a retort when John stepped forward in a flash, pressing down firmly on an acupoint near his abdomen.

"What the hell are you doing?" the boy shouted, trying to swat him away.

"Relax. I simply unblocked the stagnated qi in your abdomen," John replied calmly. "If there's nothing wrong with you, then you won't feel anything unusual."

He then backed away several paces—nonchalantly, almost too quickly.

The boy opened his mouth to say something smug, but then...

Gurgle...

The sudden, deep rumbling in his stomach was unmistakable. Loud. Wet. Dangerous.

His face paled.

Then—

Pfft!

Pft-Pft!

PFFFFFT!

Three thunderous, utterly foul-sounding farts escaped him in rapid succession.

Silence hung in the air for a beat.

His face turned crimson.

His girlfriend, who had been sitting directly behind him, found herself squarely in the blast zone. She jolted upright, face frozen in shock. But because she had been holding back a hiccup from the pressure, her stomach spasmed—and her own body let out a bizarre sound in return.

"Did you just—?!" she started, gagging.

Before she could even get the words out, she slapped the hedgehog boy across the face—hard. But halfway through her angry retort, the stench hit her like a brick wall. Her eyes watered. She covered her nose and mouth with both hands and bolted from the room, retching all the way.

Then came the real devastation.

The pungent, noxious cloud of gas expanded outward like a smoke bomb detonated in the center of the room. Students yelped, ducked, and rolled to escape the invisible explosion.

"Jesus Christ!"

It was then they realized why John had stepped back so quickly.

This was the power of Chinese Medicine?

No—it was biological warfare.

"Open the windows! Everyone out! Take five minutes!" John commanded, already halfway out the door. "If you're not interested in coming back, that's up to you."

Then he bolted like a rabbit.

"Goddamn! The teacher's faster than Usain Bolt!" one student yelled as they all stampeded for the exit, choking and gagging.

No one even tried to comfort the hedgehog-haired boy.

Instead, they all glared at him with disgust.

"Bro, what the hell did you eat for dinner? Curry-flavored dog shit?!"

They couldn't get out of there fast enough.

In the end, only the boy remained in the now-evacuated T-shaped classroom, standing there alone in a cloud of his own embarrassment, surrounded by overturned chairs and abandoned books.

A solitary figure, bathed in shame and a smell he could no longer deny.

Oh, poor, stinky hedgehog...