Because Little Taotie and Yuanyuan are "blood brothers," they obviously couldn’t be split up, so the short White Person could only team up with the other guy at their table.

The guy who got moved over from the neighboring table was so excited he was flailing his arms. "Bro, when the contest’s over, dinner’s on me!"

The short White Person shot him a sidelong look. "After the contest, you’ll still be able to eat?"

"Uh..." Yeah, no way he could still eat!

The man from the next table gave an awkward laugh. "Anyway, I owe you a meal. Call me anytime, I’ll pick up the check!"

The short White Person nodded. "Alright, I’ll carry you through the next round."

"Thanks, boss!"

The sand in the hourglass had already run out; the thirty minutes were up, and most people had just teamed up in pairs with whoever was at their table.

Because so many contestants had been eliminated, the place was really empty now, with lots of tables freed up.

As long as the two people at a table moved themselves to a new table, the original five tables naturally turned into ten.

The Chef had the servers bring out plate after plate of high-calorie food.

Hamburgers, fries, chicken wings, nuggets, corn, thick soup...

Some people had only barely scraped by in the last round. Now their stomachs were full of fizzy water bubbling up, and they kept burping. Staring at this whole table of greasy food, some even felt stomach acid coming up on the spot.

"It’s still not too late to withdraw now. At least you won’t drag your teammate down with you," a server kindly reminded them.

They’d already made it to the third round, and the exhausting rotation system had everyone looking troubled. But when they thought about it, everyone else might be just as full as they were. As long as they held on a little longer, they might actually win. Clinging to that sliver of hope, they still didn’t want to quit.

So, no one withdrew.

The server shrugged. "Time limit is ten minutes. Finish all the food in front of you!"

"Wait, wasn’t it supposed to be whoever eats the fastest?"

"What if nobody finishes in ten minutes?"

"I think there’s something wrong with how this round is set up!"

The biggest reason those clinging to luck hadn’t withdrawn was that the first two rounds had all been "whoever finishes first wins." The ones who couldn’t finish in the end were just automatically eliminated. If the third round had the same rules, then with everyone already so stuffed, their overall speed would slow down, which would give them some time to digest and catch their breath.

But now it was set to finishing a huge plate of food in front of them within ten minutes—there was just no way!

The server shrugged. "It’s not like this contest is only at our shop anyway. If no one here beats the third round, then you all get eliminated."

"How can you eliminate everyone!"

"If this branch doesn’t send a single representative to the finals, isn’t that super embarrassing?"

"At least pick a champion to go to the finals, right?"

Some people started raising a ruckus, and the server said blandly, "If you’re unhappy with the rules, you can quit now. The rules won’t change because you’re incompetent. Just because you loudmouths can’t do it doesn’t mean other people can’t, and it doesn’t mean we really don’t have a champion here."

The Chef drawled lazily, "Anyone who keeps yapping is out. Immediately."

No one made a peep.

At first they hadn’t known who actually called the shots here and could still get away with it, but after two rounds, anyone with eyes could see this Chef was definitely not just some random cook—he was someone with serious authority. Since he’d spoken, that meant it was set in stone. The rules absolutely would not change. Anyone who kept arguing would definitely get kicked out.

"Since no one has anything to say, let’s begin," the Chef said lazily.

The server started the countdown. "3, 2, 1! Go!"