"Strange, why couldn't I understand that battle at all?"
"Grandfather, do you know what level the Sixth Generation Pope's strength was truly at?"
Qian Renxue frowned and turned to Qian Daoliu beside her, her voice full of confusion.
"To be honest, I'm not quite sure either."
"Against ordinary Spirit Masters, one slap."
"Against Titled Douluo, still one slap."
"Against those so-called Gods, still one slap."
Qian Daoliu slowly shook his head, his tone carrying a trace of gravity.
"This..."
Qian Renxue was completely stunned.
One slap to deal with every opponent—this had already surpassed everything she understood about "strength."
"If we can't figure something out, there's no need to rack our brains over it."
"What I'm more curious about now is what punishment Ning Fengzhi and Ning Rongrong will receive for answering incorrectly this time."
A teasing smile appeared on Golden Crocodile Douluo's face, his tone carrying a hint of schadenfreude.
"Wrong? I actually answered wrong?"
"What kind of punishment will I suffer? Could it be..."
All color drained from Ning Rongrong's face, replaced by undisguised terror.
"Rongrong, don't worry."
"There are very few fatal outcomes on the Roulette. Most are just minor punishments meant to torment people; they won't truly take your life."
Zhu Zhuqing supported herself against the stone wall beside her and barely managed to stand steady, her voice still somewhat hoarse.
The lingering pain from the previous round of punishment was still spreading through her bones, leaving Zhu Zhuqing weak all over!
Blood drawing!
And it had been real blood drawing for five whole minutes!
Even so, Zhu Zhuqing forced herself to endure, patting Ning Rongrong's shoulder in an attempt to lend her some strength.
"That's right, there's no need to worry too much."
"Your luck has always been good. You'll definitely draw the mildest one.