Actually, Fatty's need for meat is in no way less than Sara's; on the contrary, he surpasses her by a wide margin. Speaking of Sara, it's true that she loves eating meat, but this stems from the influence of her upbringing.

In her world, meat is a luxury, a symbol of wealth and status, representing money and power. That's why Sara often eats meat. However, she had never tasted the meat from this world before, and once she tried the delicacies of this era, Sara realized she was growing increasingly fond of them.

But Zhang Xiaobo is different. He purely loves eating meat. In fact, his physique speaks for itself. While Sara loves meat, she can still maintain such a perfect figure, which proves that her love for meat is more a luxurious habit ingrained by her worldview. Unlike Fatty, Sara exercises restraint when eating; her approach is nowhere as fierce or as intense as Fatty, who eats like he's fighting on the frontlines.

Zhang Xiaobo, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. After all, he's a man. Men cry, men struggle, men suffer, and men have to earn money. Hence, his appetite for meat far exceeds Sara's. Even if Sara's daily food intake were compared to Fatty's, hers wouldn't even come close to a tenth of his.

Ever since arriving in this world, Sara's worldview has been completely flipped upside down. She's transformed from a glamorous and sophisticated woman into a woman obsessed with culinary pleasures. She thinks men have it tough, but honestly, women have it even tougher. Women have to be beautiful, maintain their youth, have children, master scheming, and appear more polished. Thankfully, the youth-preserving serum—a special invention by Blade Warrior—allows her beauty to last until she's a hundred years old.

While Zhang Xiaobo was devouring his meal, he suddenly noticed Xiu Yi and the others were only focused on eating without touching their drinks. He hurriedly chimed in, "Hey, don't just eat; can you really get full on food alone? Drink some alcohol too!"

Huh… alcohol? What kind of logic is that? If you can't get full from eating, how could drinking possibly fill you up? That's obviously nonsense.

When Xiu Yi posed this question, Fatty suddenly had plenty to say. He claimed, "Alcohol is the essence of grains. The more you drink, the younger you get! In fact, alcohol is made from grain. When you drink it, it gets absorbed into your blood vessels. It works just like eating food! Moreover, alcohol is easy to digest, promotes blood circulation, and resolves blood stasis. Especially with baijiu—downing half a bottle in one go? If they're just an ordinary person, Fatty bets their blood pressure will spike by 50 within thirty seconds; not a dream, mark my words."

Holy shit, that's savage! Hearing this, Xiu Yi and Kevin couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air. A blood pressure increase of 50? If it were a middle-aged man whose blood pressure was already high, that kind of spike could instantly turn them into a severe hypertensive patient. Who knows, after gulping down one bottle, they might not even make it through the night!

True enough, drinking does give a sense of fullness, but that's purely due to the effects of blood sugar. After drinking, you're still just as hungry as before. Unless you're someone like Feng Yi, whose body has astoundingly low cholesterol and other substances, drinking alcohol wouldn't affect him much. But then again, Feng Yi doesn't drink often. Most of the time, it's only after fierce battles on the frontlines, exhaustion, and enormous physical exertion. For him, even a minute of high-speed exertion could burn off all the alcohol in his system. As for this group? Who'd be willing to try that? Even Red Ghost would likely require ten or twenty minutes just to metabolize a single bottle's worth of alcohol.

Upon hearing Zhang Xiaobo's spirited reasoning, Xiu Yi and Kevin exchanged a series of looks—each man's eyes darting to the other's, then back again. First, they nodded, signaling they understood, but immediately followed it with shaking their heads, indicating refusal. Sure, they drank alcohol—that's a fact. They'd even cultivated a habit of drinking occasionally when out and about to relieve physical exhaustion. But this? No way.

With that in mind, Xiu Yi quickly grabbed a peanut and placed it in Fatty's bowl. "Brother Fat, you're not drunk, are you? Eat more dishes, add some peanuts. A single extra peanut could save you from drinking yourself into oblivion."

"Haha, I'm not drunk. Let's keep going! All right, guys, let's get moving!" At this point, Zhang Xiaobo, clearly buzzed after downing a hefty amount, played dumb and pretended to have it all figured out.

Fortunately, Fatty's alcohol buzz came quickly but passed just as fast. After barely half an hour, he was back, wide awake. The very first words he uttered were the ones everyone had heard countless times before: Who is he? Where is he? What is he going to do next? Why is he here?

Even Xiu Yi and the others were left speechless at this man's erratic behavior. "Hey, seriously… What's up with him? He wakes up like he's still half-asleep." This was supposedly Brother Feng's comrade—the iron-blooded warrior praised as fearless and tenacious, the award-winning combat role model from the Mars special training base, the military ace, the legendary figure Norman's fleet called their very own Red Cloak, the unmatched super-soldier rivaling the world's best pilots. Yet here he was—clueless, funny, adorable, and utterly baffling.

Hmm, maybe Brother Feng was just trying to inspire everyone with this story. Or maybe it was true? Either way, Xiu Yi found it tough to connect this bumbling Fatty to the heroic man Brother Feng described.

Then again, there's this old saying: "True skills are often hidden; you can't judge a book by its cover." Perhaps this seemingly plain and eccentric guy had abilities far beyond ordinary understanding.

Lost in thought, Xiu Yi and the group chuckled dryly as they strode out of the restaurant, their steps bold and brimming with energy. Maybe exploring the Heavenly Spine was not a bad idea; at the very least, the chilly breeze might clear Fatty's slightly muddled head.

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