But this feeling alone was enough to leave Henry Clark deeply shaken.

　　Was this really not a dream?

　　He heard his classmate urging him; the other had already downed his drink in one gulp, while he had only taken a sip. Naturally, the classmate wouldn’t let it go, saying that if he didn’t drink, they wouldn’t be friends anymore.

　　Henry Clark didn’t hesitate. He silently recited a cultivation formula in his heart and finished the drink in one go. Sure enough, not only did he not feel the slightest discomfort, he actually felt refreshed and clear-headed, as if he had just taken a body-tempering elixir from a xianxia novel.

Chapter 6: The Handy Fatty

　　Seeing that Henry Clark didn’t throw up, a flash of disappointment appeared in the eyes of the short boy. It wasn’t that there was any deep-seated hatred between them, but this group of mischievous guys had just made a private bet: after a few more drinks, Henry Clark would start spouting nonsense.

　　This guy was very confident in his judgment, betting that after this cup, even if Henry Clark didn’t pass out, he’d at least throw up. In the end, he lost. Now he’d shot himself in the foot—there was no way out but to treat this group of troublemakers to a big meal.

　　Henry Clark didn’t know the whole story, but he heard the other’s muttered complaints loud and clear, even though it was noisy all around and the voice wasn’t loud at all… Could it be that his hearing had also improved a lot?

　　Henry Clark was a bit dazed.

　　After all, he was just an ordinary college student, whose only ambition was to graduate and find a decent job. He’d never thought about reaching the pinnacle of life. Just yesterday, he’d been down on his luck, and today he suddenly learned that he’d had a strange encounter in his dream, somehow getting involved with cultivation.

　　I haven’t read much, don’t try to fool me. Such a huge stroke of luck falling from the sky—there’s no way I could catch it.

　　A tall, burly male student walked over.

　　But halfway there, he was stopped by someone else.

　　The classmates meant no harm, but the joke had gone too far—there’s a limit to everything, and someone couldn’t stand by any longer.

　　Of course, this classmate who stepped up wasn’t overflowing with a sense of justice. The only reason he was willing to intervene was simple—he was Henry Clark’s roommate.

　　There are different levels of closeness among classmates. Unless personalities really clash, roommates are generally much closer than ordinary classmates.

　　Isn’t there a song that goes: “It takes ten years of cultivation to cross the same boat, a hundred years to share the same pillow…”

　　Pfft, that’s not quite right—just sharing a room, but that’s still a kind of fate. So the guys in the same dorm are usually pretty tight. It’s fine to tease each other, but in situations like this, not stepping in to help would be hard to justify.

　　And the one stepping up this time was one of Henry Clark’s three roommates, Tom Harris.

　　As it happened, the other two roommates weren’t at this gathering, or else Henry Clark wouldn’t have had to face things alone.

　　Tom Harris’s alcohol tolerance was only average. He knew that stepping up would just make him an easy target, but after hesitating for a while, he still decided to come forward.

　　A big, burly guy, weighing in at 280 jin, he was quite an imposing presence.

　　Unfortunately, he had a name that didn’t match his physique at all—“Xiao Tao, Xiao Tao”—but seeing a mountain of flesh like him come running over was quite a sight.

　　But Tom Harris was a handy and skillful fatty—his special talent was… knitting sweaters.

　　You read that right: knitting sweaters. About thirty years ago, this was one of the favorite pastimes of housewives. It’s said that back then, over eighty percent of girls could knit beautiful sweaters. But times have changed—nowadays, most cute girls probably don’t even know what yarn is, let alone how to knit.

　　In the whole university, with over fifty thousand students—half of them girls—those who could knit sweaters were few and far between.

　　Don’t underestimate this skill. In today’s high-tech world, pure handcrafts are actually rare and precious, with all sorts of fancy labels attached to them.

　　Tom Harris had opened a small shop on an online marketplace, selling sweaters he knitted himself. Supposedly, demand outstripped supply, making him something of an internet celebrity. In any case, he never had to ask his family for living expenses each month.

　　At this moment, this handy fatty stood up, bravely blocking in front of Henry Clark. He knew that his presence wouldn’t change much, but whether or not he stepped up was a matter of principle. He was already prepared to go down with Henry Clark… ahem, that is, to be carried back together.

　　“What, Xiao Tao, you want to drink with me?”

　　The tall guy’s face showed a wicked grin. This fatty’s alcohol tolerance was trash—he really didn’t know his own limits.

　　Besides, there was some old grudge between them.

　　The tall guy’s name was James Bolton.

　　He remembered that back when they started college, his mother had brought him to school. By chance, she met this annoying fatty, who happened to be knitting a sweater at the time.

　　Older women are naturally interested in handcrafts, and knitting sweaters was one of his mother’s greatest hobbies.

　　She always prided herself on her skills, but comparison is the thief of joy. When she saw the sweater Tom Harris was knitting, she was stunned. From then on, the tall guy’s life became a tragedy.

　　He got a scolding from his mom: “Look at Xiao Tao—so capable and skillful, able to knit such beautiful sweaters…”

　　Once again, the legendary “other people’s child” in parents’ mouths.

　　The problem was, it’s one thing if the other kid has good grades, but knitting sweaters? What kind of skill is that? He was a boy, after all.