Grandma Chen rapped her long bamboo ladle against the rim of a steaming stainless-steel broth cauldron at two o’clock in the afternoon. Behind her, the polished brass doors of GRANDMA CHEN’S TAICHU SANCTUARY CANTEEN — OUTPOST NUMBER ONE stood wide open on Central Avenue.
Across nineteen other prime street-front intersections in Jiangcheng, nineteen identical two-story sanctuary canteens opened their doors at the exact same minute.
Lin Mo had spent forty million yuan in instant cash to acquire the commercial properties. He equipped each kitchen with commercial induction ranges and high-capacity steam ovens. He also hired twenty master family chefs (Goodness: 84–91/100) who had lost their independent neighborhood diners to predatory retail developers.
Among them was Chef Han, a fifty-five-year-old master of slow-simmered herbal bone broth. Beside him worked Chef Zhao, a seasoned Sichuan culinary veteran who had spent decades feeding impoverished students for two yuan a bowl.
At the ribbon-cutting ceremony an hour earlier, Grandma Chen had stood at the entrance holding six-year-old Little Guo’er’s hand. With tears of quiet pride in her eyes, Grandma Chen had cut the red ribbon with a pair of polished kitchen shears.
Within thirty minutes, word of the free canteens exploded across every delivery courier and sanitation worker chat group in Jiangcheng.
Inside Outpost Number One, the air was intoxicating.
Steam rolled from twenty giant stainless steel stockpots. The rich, savory aroma of braised Wagyu beef brisket, simmered with star anise, rock sugar, and ancient cinnamon, filled the dining hall.
Grandma Chen had spent the entire morning teaching the kitchen staff her ancestral broth recipe. She simmered wild shrimp shells with roasted flounder bones and fresh ginger for eight hours, producing a clear, golden broth that warmed the chest and relaxed tired muscles.
Beside the brisket cauldrons sat steaming trays of wild-shrimp wontons, herbal bone broth, braised farm pork ribs, and fragrant jasmine rice.
Grandma Chen bustled behind the central serving counter in a crisp white chef’s coat and a bright red apron. Her silver hair was neatly tucked beneath a white cap, and her wrinkled face beamed with maternal joy.
“Eat more, young man!” Grandma Chen scolded gently, ladling three massive chunks of tender Wagyu beef into Xiao Liu’s porcelain bowl. “Look at your thin arms! An honest boy riding a delivery van needs meat on his ribs!”
Xiao Liu sat at a polished oak table with Old Ma and Brother Da-Hai.
Before them sat heaping bowls of Wagyu beef, steaming shrimp wontons, and cold plum juice. Clean cloth napkins and silver chopsticks rested on the table.
Xiao Liu took a bite of the beef. The meat was so tender it melted on his tongue. Tears sprang to his eyes once again.
“Grandma Chen,” Xiao Liu sniffled, chewing with reverence. “In my whole life, I’ve never tasted beef this good. Back at Swift-Flash, Boss Wang charged us fifteen yuan for cold pickled radish and stale rice.”
“No more pickled radishes in this city,” Grandma Chen said firmly, tapping her ladle against the pot rim. “Chairman Lin said any delivery brother, street cleaner, or night-shift taxi driver who works an honest day eats like an emperor under our roof. The food is completely free.”
Across the dining hall, over two hundred honest outdoor workers sat feast style.
At one table, four street cleaners in fluorescent orange vests ate braised beef and steamed dumplings. For ten years, they had eaten cold steamed buns behind concrete dumpsters to avoid dirtying storefront steps. Here, the waitstaff served them with warm cotton towels and poured hot barley tea into fine ceramic cups.
At another table, three night-shift taxi drivers leaned back in cushioned armchairs, marveling at the rich broth.
“I drove thirty miles through the rain this morning,” an older cab driver said, shaking his head with emotion. “I haven’t had a hot meal since yesterday noon. This place feels like heaven.”
Outside the entrance, a line of twenty smart turnstiles scanned every entering guest with an invisible beam of pure-heart radiance.
The System’s rule was simple and absolute: any citizen with a confirmed Moral Integrity Score of eighty or above stepped through the turnstile for free unlimited dining.
Lin Mo stood on the mezzanine balcony with CEO Su Wan, sipping a cup of roasted barley tea.
Little Guo’er walked over to Lin Mo, carefully balancing a small tray with a bowl of shrimp wontons. “Big Brother Lin Mo, Grandma made this bowl specially for you! She put twelve big shrimp inside!”
Lin Mo took the bowl with a warm smile, crouching down to pat her head. “Thank you, Little Guo’er. You are the finest young hostess in Jiangcheng.”
Little Guo’er giggled with delight and skipped back to help Grandma Chen fold clean napkins.
“Twenty locations citywide,” Su Wan reported, tapping her tablet. “Each location is stocked with ten tons of premium grass-fed beef, organic vegetables, and fresh seafood daily. The automated supply chain runs directly from our agricultural cooperative partners in the river valley.”
Lin Mo watched the hundreds of smiling workers below. “Traditional restaurants spend millions on velvet carpets and French crystal to sell tiny portions to bored snobs. Feeding two thousand honest workers hot beef broth is a far superior allocation of capital.”
Lin Mo pulled out his matte emerald-green Benevolence Charity Card and tapped Su Wan’s payment console to authorize the forty-million-yuan operating endowment.
A majestic chime echoed in his consciousness:
[DING! COLOSSAL NUTRITIONAL SANCTUARY EXPENDITURE DETECTED!]
[TARGET: 20 MASTER FAMILY CHEFS (GOODNESS: 84–91/100) & 420 RECURRENT WORKER BENEFICIARIES (GOODNESS: 80–94/100)!]
[SPENT: ¥40,000,000.00 RMB!]
[100x PURE-HEART REBATE TRIGGERED: +¥4,000,000,000.00 RMB!]
[PERSONAL VAULT BALANCE: ¥55,692,680,000.50 RMB!]
[BENEVOLENCE MERIT POINTS: +4,000,000 BMP (TOTAL: 57,900,528 BMP)!]
[GOOD PEOPLE NETWORK EXPANDED: 1,010 -> 1,450 MEMBERS!]
A surge of warm, pure benevolence qi flooded Lin Mo’s dantian, solidifying his Rank 1 Peak Martial realm into an unshakeable fortress of vitality.
Down by the glass entrance doors, a commotion began to brew.
Boss Wang, wearing a dirty trench coat, walked up to the entrance. Behind him lurked five neighborhood deadbeats and professional freeloaders (Goodness: 12–22/100). Each of them carried two giant white industrial plastic paint buckets.
“Listen up, boys,” Boss Wang whispered greedily, staring at the heaping trays of Wagyu brisket through the glass. “Lin Mo is an idiot playing at charity! The sign says unlimited free food for the public! We fill these twelve paint buckets to the brim with Wagyu beef, take them to the wholesale meat market, and sell them for five thousand yuan cash!”
The five freeloaders chuckled, licking their lips as they pushed toward the turnstiles.
“Out of the way, street sweepers!” Boss Wang yelled, shoving an elderly sanitation worker aside. “I am here for my free buffet!”
Boss Wang shoved his way into Turnstile Number One.
The instant his foot crossed the sensor threshold, the turnstile’s emerald indicators vanished.
CLANG!
Two heavy, hardened-steel security bars snapped shut in front of Boss Wang and behind his waist, trapping him tightly in the turnstile bay like a pig in a slaughterhouse chute.
A violent, neon-red strobe flashed overhead. A harsh, hundred-and-ten-decibel alarm blared across the entire dining hall:
[BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!]
[PARASITIC WORKPLACE EXPLOITER DETECTED!]
[CANDIDATE: WANG DEFA (STATION MANAGER)]
[MORAL INTEGRITY: 8/100 (WAGE THIEF, BATTERY USURER, PHYSICAL ABUSER OF SUBORDINATES)]
[SUBSIDY STATUS: DENIED & BLOCKED FOREVER!]
The electronic speaker above the turnstile boomed in a cheerful, automated voice:
[WELCOME, PARASITE! FREE BUFFET PRIVILEGE PERMANENTLY REVOKED! CURRENT MEAL PRICING FOR WANG DEFA: ¥88,888.00 RMB PER BOWL! CASH OR CARD ONLY!]
The five freeloaders behind Boss Wang panicked as the scanner turned its laser onto their plastic paint buckets:
[DETECTED COMMERCIAL FOOD HOARDING TOOLS: 12 INDUSTRIAL PAINT BUCKETS!]
[FREELOADER EVALUATION: MORAL SCORES 12 TO 22 OUT OF 100!]
[SECURITY CHARGE FOR ILLEGAL CONTAINER ENTRY: ¥10,000.00 PER BUCKET!]
The entire dining hall stopped eating.
Two hundred couriers, sanitation workers, and taxi drivers looked at Boss Wang trapped in the steel cage, holding his empty plastic buckets.
A deafening roar of laughter shook the chandeliers.
“Eighty-eight thousand yuan a bowl!” Xiao Liu laughed, holding his sides. “Boss Wang, aren’t you a rich station boss? Buy a bowl of Grandma Chen’s wontons and let us see!”
“Pay up, wage thief!” Brother Da-Hai shouted, raising his juice glass. “Show us that imitation gold chain!”
Boss Wang struggled frantically against the steel bars, his face burning purple with shame. “Let me out! This is false imprisonment! I’ll sue you into bankruptcy!”
Tie Niu strode over, his arms folded across his chest. He looked down at Boss Wang with a cold, predatory grin.
“Nobody imprisoned you, Wang,” Tie Niu said. “You walked into a private turnstile. If you can’t pay eighty-eight thousand yuan for the soup, the emergency release button is on the exterior wall.”
Tie Niu tapped the release pedal with his boot. The steel bars swung open, ejecting Boss Wang onto his hands and knees on the sidewalk outside.
The five freeloaders dropped their paint buckets in terror and fled down the street, their shoes slipping on the wet pavement.
Boss Wang scrambled to his feet, cursing incoherently as the restaurant guests continued to cheer and clap behind the glass windows. He grabbed his coat and ran into an alley, utterly humiliated.
Lin Mo watched the scene from the balcony, a faint, deadpan smirk on his face.
“A system that charges thieves eighty-eight thousand yuan for soup,” Lin Mo remarked to Su Wan. “Our commercial margins are improving.”
Just as Lin Mo prepared to head down to greet Grandma Chen, a sharp, red alert light flashed on his titanium tablet console.
A high-priority emergency distress ping pinged three times with urgent intensity:
[EMERGENCY PRIORITY DISTRESS DETECTED!]
[LOCATION: MAIN GATE OF ROYAL DRAGON VILLA DISTRICT!]
[TARGET: TAICHU RIDER XIAO LIN (AGE: 19, GOODNESS: 92/100)!]
[INCIDENT: UNJUST VIOLENT SUPPRESSION & PHYSICAL RESTRAINT BY ARROGANT PROPERTY DEVELOPER RESIDENTS!]
[CURRENT STATUS: FORCED TOWARD MUDDY GROUND UNDER THREAT OF BONE FRACTURE!]
Lin Mo’s eyes narrowed into twin points of cold steel.
“Xiao Lin?” Lin Mo looked at Su Wan.
Su Wan tapped the dispatch map rapidly. “Xiao Lin is one of our youngest riders, Chairman Lin. He is nineteen years old. His father died in a construction accident, and he works two delivery shifts every day to pay for his twelve-year-old deaf-mute sister’s speech therapy. He was assigned a luxury delivery run to Royal Dragon Villa District twenty minutes ago.”
Lin Mo set his barley tea cup onto the stone balustrade.
“Commander Tie Niu,” Lin Mo said, his voice flat and dangerous.
“Here, Chairman!” Tie Niu stepped forward, his knuckles cracking like gunshots.
“Bring three armored executive vans,” Lin Mo said, stepping toward the stairs. “Let us go see who in Royal Dragon Villas believes an honest nineteen-year-old boy should kneel in the mud.”
Five minutes later, three black-and-gold executive vans accelerated through the city center, heading north toward the exclusive hills of Royal Dragon District.
Inside the command van, Su Wan pulled up the live telemetry from Xiao Lin’s smart delivery scooter.
“Xiao Lin’s distress beacon triggered four minutes ago,” Su Wan said, her eyes fixed on the digital screen. “The telemetry shows his scooter was kicked over near the security barrier. His audio feed recorded a woman screaming about a ruined birthday cake.”
“Who is the resident?” Lin Mo asked calmly.
“Mrs. Qian,” Su Wan replied. “Her husband is a commercial excavation subcontractor who works for the Zhao consortium. She ordered a two-hundred-yuan strawberry cake from an upscale French bakery across town.”
Tie Niu adjusted his tactical radio. “The gate guards at Royal Dragon Villas are hired thugs from Black-Tiger Security. They have a history of assaulting delivery couriers who enter the main driveway.”
Lin Mo leaned back against the leather seat, his eyes cold as mountain frost.
“An excavation subcontractor’s wife demanding a boy kneel over strawberry cream,” Lin Mo murmured. “Some people buy a house behind an iron gate and instantly imagine they are royal monarchs. It is time to remind them of the true price of arrogance.”