"AAAAAAAH—!!"
The little yellow-haired kid kneaded the mud back together, rolled it into a long strip, grabbed both ends, and whipped it around wildly like he was slinging ramen noodles.
"Nice~~!" Orange Soda Man was still marveling.
Meanwhile, Plastic Bag had finally managed to shape a clay bottle that did not collapse this time.
Seeing that the time was about right, she placed the clay bottle into the kiln for its first firing.
Yet Orange Soda Man did not even glance at her. His eyes remained fixed on the little yellow-haired kid.
"It's simply divine!!"
The strip of mud the little yellow-haired kid had rolled was already snapped apart from all the whipping. Mud splattered everywhere, even landing on Soda Man and the spectators below, including Yan Huan and March 7th.
"Damn, what kind of trash technique is that? Is this guy here to compete or vent his anger?!"
Someone could not help cursing.
"I'm a Fictional Historian, and this is history!"
"What the hell is this? Does this competition not have a time limit? Playing games and messing around... We paid for tickets too. Can't you give us something worthwhile?!"
"Has no one noticed that the other little girl is already firing her pottery...?"
Yan Huan took out a handkerchief and wiped the mud off his face, saying disdainfully,
"That brat is just here to give away points, isn't he?"
"Exactly." Even though March 7th did not understand much, she could tell that the little yellow-haired kid was just fooling around.
He had whipped that lump of mud around for so long that it was practically dog shit by now.
"Hmph, why are these props so lousy?"
Suddenly, the little yellow-haired kid slapped the mud onto the table and cursed at Orange Soda Man.
"The other side is already