"President Zhao, what's wrong with your athletes? Are they in poor condition, or was their training inadequate?"
"President Zhao, how do you view the upcoming matches...?"
Faced with a barrage of questions from the journalists, Zhao Fen's expression grew increasingly ugly.
However, on Zhang Fan's side, only the last three competitors remained.
"Now on the field, we only have numbers three, seven, and twenty-nine left. The battle for the top three spots is up next," Xiaoxiao commented, jokingly adding, "The first place is definitely Zhang Fan's, as he hasn't missed once, all perfect tens. As long as his last three arrows don't miss the target—cough cough—it seems, aside from player number four, no one else has missed yet."
"Hahaha!"
A crowd burst into laughter.
Player number four is from Z city, right?
Listeing to Xiaoxiao's voice, Zhao Fen was seething with anger, damn idiot; why did he even invite him? This is like slapping his own face.