"Huh? What's with this guy? He threw a sausage over here?"
"Haha, don't tell me they can't beat us and are trying to bribe us with that thing? Hahaha!"
"Who could withstand a test like that?"
The Tang-Oscar Combination's opponents were still laughing, but the moment the sausage rolled to their feet, a foul stench shot into their nostrils, making both of them vomit with a retch.
"Good chance!"
Tang San commanded the Clear Sky Dog to pounce. Without another word, it farted right at the vomiting opponents, stinking them into collapse.
The host loudly announced:
"This match goes to the Tang-Oscar Combination!"
Tang San and Oscar happily high-fived, while the spectators in the stands were even happier than they were.
"Hahaha, the odds were one to 2.7! Bro, I bet twenty Gold Soul Coins—I just won fifty!"
"Hehe, I bet thirty. The bold get fed while the timid starve!"
"You're all trash. I bet a hundred!"
"Holy shit!"
"Big bro's a beast! Big bro, have a smoke!"
After the crowd had finished celebrating, they suddenly realized something and hurriedly asked around:
"What kind of move was that sausage just now? It made the opponents puke?"
"No idea. I only saw the Tang-Oscar Combination throw over a sausage, and then their opponents started vomiting."
At that moment, a spectator from the front row—the seats closest to the arena—staggered over while supporting himself against the wall. He looked rather weak.
Some people recognized the old gambler and asked:
"Old Li, what happened?"
Old Li waved them off, still shaken as he said:
"Don't mention it. That sausage was too damn smelly—blegh!"
The crowd looked at one another and immediately understood what had happened.
Then someone in the stands shouted:
"Stinky Sausage God, we love you!"
"Go, Stinky Sausage God! Keep fighting!"