As soon as they entered, they saw the slap contest being broadcast on the giant screen, where a monk was mercilessly beating Senior Watanabe, turning him into a swollen mess.
Minamoto Tamako quickly asked the onlookers what was going on, and someone smart suggested exchanging information for points, claiming that for just sixty points, they could spill everything they knew.
Minamoto Tamako wasn’t foolish; she shouted to exchange information for 5 points. A crowd gathered around her, and she finally chose the person who seemed the most honest—a chubby man—and signaled to the cat-mask-wearing staff member to trade points.
The honest chubby man was truly honest, explaining the ins and outs of the slap contest in a few straightforward sentences.
After hearing it, Minamoto Tamako’s first reaction was to wonder why Sister Yalan needed six tickets when they clearly had only five people; but she quickly saw Senior Watanabe preparing to act, and without overthinking it, she shouted for people to make way. With Fujiwara Homare, she squeezed to the front row, pressed her hands on the retractable band, and shouted loudly:
"Go for it!! Senior Watanabe!!"
Watanabe Shun was momentarily stunned. He glanced back and saw Minamoto Tamako—she was in her pajamas, carrying a rifle, covered in blood—he couldn’t even imagine what Tamako had been through.
She’s calling me senior...
As a senior, how can I not protect my juniors?
This is what the boss always taught him: a man of integrity should take up his responsibilities while standing!
Watanabe Shun took a deep breath, like a dying beast gasping for air. He knew well that he couldn’t withstand another slap; victory or defeat hung on this encounter!
He had to defeat the formidable foe!
Watanabe Shun raised his right hand high, every inch of his knuckles gathering strength; he could feel his right arm surging with blood, muscles taut to the limit. He spun with his waist, letting out a burst of power, willing to sacrifice even his right hand!
The giant screen immediately replayed in slow motion. At the moment Watanabe Shun swung his palm, his waist and back propelled his right arm. The palm struck like the end of a whip, landing fiercely on the monk’s face, whose features twisted instantly—nose bent, mouth split, cheeks contorted horrifically.
However, once the slow-motion ended, the spectators in the front row looked on in astonishment.
The monk’s face swelled, blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, yet he remained steadfast, his gaze calm. When the arbitrator asked if he needed a mouthguard, he refused, seeming to consider the pain trivial.
The arbitrator loudly announced.
The monk didn’t wait thirty seconds; he didn’t even wait for three. He simply raised his arm.
Watanabe Shun instinctively stepped back, leaving the competition area.
The arbitrator reminded him that if he didn’t return to the designated spot within thirty seconds to receive his slap, it would be considered a forfeit.
Everyone turned around, and the one shouting was Moriyama Yasurou.
Her eyes were red, and she loudly said, "If you take another hit, you’ll die!"
"Yeah," Yakou Shichi chimed in with malicious joy, "There’s no point in persisting. Losing is losing; it’s a gap in strength! Surrender now, and you can avoid another slap, too!"
He paused, continuing his persuasion, "Plus, I could magnanimously spare this young lady’s life, as long as you’re willing to keep gambling with your life. You can win her back anytime! The best strategy is to conserve your strength and find a way to turn the tables in the following bets..."
Of course, he was lying.
But this didn’t break any rules since the game didn’t prohibit lying.
Minamoto Tamako couldn’t stand it any longer either and loudly urged Watanabe Shun to give up. To the others, Watanabe Shun’s face was already beyond recognition, his hairstyle disheveled and covering his eyes. His face was swollen, bruised, covered in blood, with the left side even twice as large as the right!
However, after thirty seconds of panting, Watanabe Shun faced the monk’s raised right arm, stepped forward slowly yet firmly, and forced out two words from his chest.
As soon as he spoke, Hui Shikong swung his right arm down violently, a heart-stopping thud of flesh meeting bone. Watanabe Shun’s body, with his head, shifted half a meter to the left. With a thud, without any cushioning move, he crashed heavily onto the ground.
The Seven Sins Temple fell silent.