This Big Stomach King competition has been held for seven times. In the previous competitions, participants were enthusiastic, but after many losses, no one wants to be fooled anymore.
Behind the stands, Wang Licui heard the rumors spreading from the front and couldn't help but sigh, "People these days are getting smarter. We've only hosted this Big Stomach King competition seven times, and we can't even hold the eighth one now."
"Maybe it's because the advertisement wasn't enough. Otherwise, I, Trashy Rat, Prince Ying, and Big Brother Wu Chou could hand out some flyers again," Lan Wanyi suggested with a worried look.
"I won't go, you go if you want!" Ying Yu'an, who had grown into a handsome young man, shook his head hastily, "I've told you in the previous competitions, don't harvest so ruthlessly, now our reputation is ruined, who would be fooled again? No matter how many flyers you distribute, it won't help."
