Zhao Ritian's Greatest Value

The contest of eyesight seemed even more thrilling than the contest of holding one's breath.

Long Aotian was the first to step up.

Having just won a round, Long Aotian was riding high.

After being screwed over by Lu Chengwen for so long, he could finally wash away his humiliation today!

Good thing I was clever enough to insist beforehand that it had to be this kind of fair competition!

Hehe, without any subjective judgment, let's see how you pull any tricks!

Let's see how you favor Lu Chengwen now!

Long Aotian, who had not won in a long time, began to get carried away.

Zhao Ritian was very nervous. He had already lost one round; he had to win the remaining two!

He watched Long Aotian and Ming Disha tensely.

Ming Disha asked Long Aotian, "Ready?"

"Ready!"

Smack—!

A resounding slap sent Long Aotian spraying blood and flying away.

He crashed to the ground, clutching his face. "Martial Uncle! What are you doing?!"

"How many fingers did I use when I slapped you just now?"

"What!?"

"I'm asking you—did you see it clearly? How many fingers!"

"I... this is how we're testing eyesight?"

"A normal person's eyes can observe things within one second. In other words, when movement exceeds that speed, ordinary eyes cannot distinguish it."

"But you are different! You are heaven's chosen, the hope of the future, the finest of the Ancient Martial Arts World, the hope of all living beings! So you must see more clearly than others, and that will be of great help in battle."

Ming Disha asked, "Tell me, how many fingers slapped you!"

"I..." Long Aotian had not seen it at all. He had not even known Ming Disha was about to strike.

All he could do now was blurt out in