Ben tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but his heart was still pounding, and the hand holding the Yo-Yo wouldn’t stop trembling.

Hundreds of other contestants just like him were waiting in the square. They were all of different ages, races, and backgrounds, all anxiously awaiting the judges.

When he signed up, he had thought it was just a recreational competition. ’A Yo-Yo? It’s just a toy. How big of a deal could they possibly make it?’

However, once he arrived on site, he discovered there were thousands of contestants in the preliminaries alone. People had even traveled from other cities to participate, and all the major city newspapers were present, reporting on the entire event.

It was said that the main tournament would be held in the Twin Cities Arena, a venue that could hold a whopping fifty thousand spectators!

For this competition, Zog’s Toy Store had released a commemorative edition Yo-Yo. The revenue from this Yo-Yo would be divided equally among all contestants who made it to the main tournament.

If they placed, depending on their rank, they could receive rewards ranging from co-branded accessories and exclusive Illusions to co-branded Yo-Yos. They would also get a share of the revenue. The first-place winner could even land a long-term contract with Zog’s Toy Store.

’In other words, playing with toys could become a job—and a rather lucrative one at that.’

And the audience wasn’t just there to watch the competition; there were prize drawings during the intervals between each contestant’s performance.

They could also use the Magical Devices at their seats to vote on whether they liked a performance, and this would be factored into the total score, accounting for 10% of the points.

’How on earth did the owner of Zog’s Toy Store come up with all these unconventional measures?’

’No one had ever thought of running a competition like this before!’

"You may begin."

The judge holding a clipboard approached him.

Ben recognized him. He was a fairly well-known Yo-Yo master from the Riverfront District who had been invited to participate in the main tournament and serve as a judge for the preliminaries.

The rules for the preliminaries were simple: one minute to perform a freestyle routine, scored by a judge. A score above 80 was a direct pass to the main tournament, while a score below 60 meant elimination. Anything in between landed you in the pending zone, where your ranking after all the preliminaries would determine if you advanced.

In the event of a tie, a weighted breakdown of the score would be used for comparison.

Ben had secretly glanced at the scoring sheet once. Difficulty, success rate, variety, originality, range of motion, and even fluency and artistic choreography—it was detailed beyond imagination.

Every contestant’s performance was even being recorded on camera, making it easy to review in case of a scoring dispute or appeal.

It was just that the camera operator was a bit terrifying: tall and lanky, wrapped head to toe in a leather suit with only its head exposed—but its head was a camera!

Ben slapped his cheeks, trying to clear his head.

Ever since his Yo-Yo was confiscated, he had been practicing in secret. He didn’t dare let his studies slide, so he did everything he could to squeeze out time every day.

’To be honest, I’m not expecting to get a high rank. I’ve seen the real masters perform, and I know I’m not even half as good as them.’

He was competing in the single-hand string-trick category, the most common style. Besides that, there was also the two-handed looping-trick category.

A style where the string wasn’t attached to the hand, called off-string, had already appeared in the manga, but so few people knew how to do it that they couldn’t form a competitive division for it.

The single-hand string-trick category had the most people, so the competition was fierce.

’Just making it to the main tournament would be enough.’

He wanted to prove to his father that he hadn’t lost his ambition to his hobby, that his studies wouldn’t suffer, and that he could even make money with a Yo-Yo.

He threw the Yo-Yo, mounted the string, and tricks flowed out one after another. Once his focus was absolute, the nervousness naturally vanished.

The Yo-Yo and string felt like an extension of his fingers. His movements grew smoother and smoother. He didn’t have any high-difficulty tricks, so he had to ensure his success rate was perfect.

"Four, three, two, one. Time’s up." The judge stopped his stopwatch.

Ben returned the Yo-Yo with lightning speed, like sheathing a sword. Perfect timing.

The judge scribbled on his clipboard.

The rustling sound of pen on paper made Ben nervous all over again. He swallowed hard, a little afraid to face the result.

"80.2 points. Congratulations, you’ve advanced."

"Haha!" Ben jumped for joy and ran toward the edge of the stage. "Uncle, I did it! I advanced!"

"I knew you could do it! You’re so smart," Karaman cheered along with his nephew.

Of course, Ben hadn’t come alone. Even in the most developed city on the Continent, you couldn’t trust public safety.

"Here," Karaman said, pulling out two skewers of a red treat from behind his back. They were strawberries coated in a hard sugar shell. "Found a new snack at a stall over there. I think it’s called Tanghulu."

"Thanks, Uncle." Ben took the Tanghulu. His mom usually didn’t let him eat sweets.

He took a light bite. The sugar shell shattered with the aroma of caramel but none of the bitterness of being burnt. Then, the juice from the strawberry flowed out, sweet and refreshing.

"Where are we going for lunch, Uncle?"

No response.

"Uncle Karaman?" Ben noticed his uncle staring intently in one direction, searching for something.

Suddenly, he handed the other skewer of Tanghulu to his nephew. "You can have this one, too."

"Too many sweets will give you cavities."

"Go wait for me at that restaurant over there for a bit. I’ve already reserved a table. Your uncle has something urgent to do."

With that, he grabbed his small bag and ran off.

Karaman had come to the Yo-Yo competition not only to accompany his nephew but also for an important mission: to meet Elsa.

He had tried to find her at Zog’s Toy Store several times before, but she was never there. He had no choice but to wait for her at the competition, as she was a judge for the main tournament.

After waiting for what felt like half a day, he had finally spotted her.

"Miss Stone, Miss Stone!"

Elsa looked in the direction of the voice and saw a man with a small bag running toward her.

The Beastman beside her immediately drew his War Axe.

"It’s fine, I know him." Elsa quickly stopped the Beastman. She recognized the man as the younger brother from the Ackley family. ’Business rivalry isn’t grounds for getting chopped with an axe.’

"Miss Stone," Karaman said, running up to her and bending over, gasping for air. "I have a toy design, and I want to partner with Zog’s Toy Store."

"Oh?"

A few minutes later, Elsa brought Karaman to a private room where Zog was munching on Tanghulu.

"Go ahead, tell us about your toy design."

Karaman took a spinning top from his bag. "This is a top I made, inspired by the Yo-Yo. It can create an Illusion when it spins."

He placed the top on the floor and whipped it. As it spun, an Illusion of a Xiao Xiong appeared.

"As the top’s rotation speed decreases, the Illusion will change its appearance. I’ve designed several different shapes for the tops to make their collisions more intense, so they can be used for battles..."

Karaman rambled on.

"So, what is it that you need?"

"I want to partner with Zog’s Toy Store. Ackley’s Toy Store can’t mass-produce this kind of top."

"Oh? And your brother agrees to this partnership with us?"

"He doesn’t. But this is my design. I love toys; I’ve loved them my whole life. I want my design to be played with by more people. As for who makes it, I don’t care."

Karaman’s expression was utterly sincere.

No industry is without this kind of pure passion. But it is precisely because it’s so pure that it’s so often taken advantage of.

"In that case, let’s talk details. Have you considered the danger of the whip? It’s not very suitable for children."

"Have you tried putting a slot on top of the top and using a Gear mechanism to make a special launcher? A cord could drive the Gear to spin it, and when the slot disengages, the top is released."

"What if the tops don’t collide in a battle? Wouldn’t you need a special arena, like a concave basin, so they’re forced to converge in the center?"

"Have you thought about modularizing the tops? Dividing them into several layers that can be freely assembled? Let the players decide what kind of shape is best for clashing by giving them the choice."

...

Elsa relayed a whole slew of suggestions from Zog.

Karaman was sweating buckets as he listened. He asked weakly, "This kind of top... it’s already been designed, hasn’t it?"

"No, no, no. You are the designer of this kind of top, Karaman Ackley. Without a doubt. I’m merely offering some suggestions as a sign of my good faith. A pleasure doing business with you."

When Karaman left the private room, his head was spinning.

"You’d actually designed all this long ago, hadn’t you," Elsa said, turning to Zog.

"That’s not important. The flourishing of a culture isn’t the victory of one man and one Dragon. Besides, it’s not like we won’t profit from a partnership, right?"

Zog replied that he needed more and more talented people to emerge.

If he had to make every single toy himself, not only would it be a huge hassle, but padding the story for a dozen or so Chapters each time would be just too shameless.

"Look," he said, gazing out at the Arena. "The preview is about to begin. How does it feel to personally create a whole new art form?"