Chapter 5: The Transmigrator’s Unconventional First Pot of Gold
Su Yi followed the surging crowd through the entrance, exchanging a few words with several young women dressed in the standard uniforms of the island nation's restaurants, who were eagerly soliciting customers. The imagined scenario of free food and drink did not materialize; to participate in the big eater contest, one had to pay a registration fee of twenty yuan. Some of those who had rushed into the restaurant balked at the requirement and turned back, but Su Yi paid the fee, took a flyer and a number card, and walked inside.
The spacious soba noodle restaurant was packed wall to wall with people. Su Yi found his assigned seat and settled in. With more than twenty minutes left before the start, he carefully perused the introduction on the flyer. It turned out the so-called soba noodle big eater contest had a long history in the island nation: each year, soba shops everywhere hosted contests of various sizes. The grand prize for this particular event was eighty thousand yuan, but with a caveat—one had to break the all-time national record to claim it.
If the record was not broken and only first place was achieved, the prize dropped to ten thousand yuan. As for the other rankings, Su Yi thought about his own abilities and decided he lacked even the interest to glance at them.
As time passed, the 120 recruited contestants quickly took their places. Su Yi surveyed the bustling restaurant hall and found the age distribution among the participants ranged across all stages of life, with every conceivable shape and size represented. He even spotted two elderly, silver-haired men at the table ahead, chattering away in the local tongue—obviously tourists swept up in the excitement.
When the host announced the imminent start of the contest, rows of servers emerged from the kitchen, each bearing trays stacked with bowls of soba. Twenty black-and-red bowls were placed before Su Yi in quick succession, though the noodles inside were scant—each bowl could be swallowed in a single gulp. For some contestants, even these twenty bowls posed a formidable challenge. Glancing at his neighbors, Su Yi noticed several young women already showing signs of distress.
“You’re all amateurs, aren’t you? Twenty bowls are hardly anything. For those of us who compete regularly, eating a hundred bowls is a breeze,” declared a tall, lean man seated at Su Yi’s right, brimming with confidence and attracting the attention of nearby contestants.
Prompted by curious questions from other participants, the tall, thin man launched into an enthusiastic explanation. Contrary to popular belief, professional big eaters were not all burly and overweight; many underwent rigorous training to burn fat and improve metabolism, making some pros even slimmer than the average person. As for the highest record in the soba noodle contest, he explained it was set by a local competitor named Hideaki Imoto—an astonishing 293 bowls.
293!
The number drew gasps from the crowd. To those who expressed doubt, the tall man scoffed, “Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean others can’t achieve it. Haven’t you heard there’s always someone better out there? What seems miraculous to you is everyday for some. You just wait and see how the professionals perform.”
Soon, the host announced the contest details. When the national record—293 bowls—was mentioned, the already noisy restaurant erupted. Many self-assured amateurs who had hoped to join the fun now groaned, realizing the grand prize was beyond their reach.
As if you ever had a chance, Su Yi thought to himself, quietly amused, and nervously awaited the start of the contest.
My stomach is already ravenous!
With the ringing of the contest bell, 120 diners transformed into hungry wolves, grabbing their bowls, pouring, scooping, setting down, and repeating with mechanical precision. Whether professional or amateur, everyone began with swift, fluid movements—even the delicate young women matched the men in determination. In no time, more than half the bowls in front of each contestant were empty.
Su Yi focused on devouring his soba. Perhaps the noodles, made for the contest, lacked the richness he preferred, but he didn't care—he was hungry! Very hungry! Extremely hungry! The act of eating ignited his appetite, and he found himself unable to stop even if he wanted to.
Eat! Eat! Eat! Seize more heat to satisfy the gut!
The first round—twenty bowls—emptied completely. The servers promptly replaced them with another tray of twenty.
The weakest contestants ceased eating, resigned to watching others continue the feast.
Second round—twenty bowls—emptied again!
At a minute and a half, the fastest eight contestants had finished their third round of twenty bowls.
The tall, thin man was among them, maintaining a steady pace while casting glances at his rivals. By this point, the divide between casual participants and professionals was clear. Only forty or fifty persisted, but over eighty percent were slowing down, teetering on the edge of nausea.
He glanced at the others whose speed had not flagged. Several were familiar faces, fellow professionals who made a living from such contests. Wait—how is the guy next to me eating so fast? Just moments ago, he seemed like a total amateur. This makes no sense!
The tall man widened his eyes, but his hands never slowed. I can't let some gifted newcomer outdo me; let him witness true professional strength!
A hundred bowls!
Two hundred bowls!
After eight minutes, the seven professionals—including the tall, thin man—fell, defeated.
Now, only Su Yi remained in the fight!
In the ninth minute, Su Yi broke the record—294 bowls!
Just as everyone expected this man, who seemed born of insatiable hunger, to finally stop, his prowess proved endless.
Three hundred bowls!
Four hundred!
Five hundred!
Not until the kitchen informed the staff that the noodles had run out did this contest—which shattered all expectations—finally come to an end.
The tale of the ravenous wolf was retold for days, a legend celebrated far and wide.
Eighty thousand yuan, claimed!