Chapter 717
Chapter 717:
Ashton responded with a frosty chuckle. “Can’t accept defeat, can you? Does this competition only count if you win? Why not just let them hand you the trophy then?” His words mirrored the spectators’ earlier taunts, but now, in the face of the three men’s bruised pride, they struck like a whip.
Covington’s fists clenched, his rage barely contained. For a moment, he seemed ready to lash out at Ashton, but Brewster and Esteban quickly restrained him.
“Enough, Covington,” Brewster sighed, his voice heavy with resignation, “We lost. Excuses won’t change that.” Esteban sneered, though his tone was tinged with frustration. “Enjoy your moment. It’s a fluke—nothing more. Pavilion Foods Group still has two other teams as skilled as ours in the running. Your luck won’t hold out forever.”
With that, the three men exited the stage, their retreat a blend of fury and, oddly, something akin to relief.
Ashton watched them leave, a faint trace of confusion creeping into his thoughts. Was he imagining it, or did they feel relieved about something?
The audience, once roaring with dissent, now fell silent. With the three men conceding, no protests could alter the result.
Against all odds, Ashton’s team had pulled off the biggest upset of the competition.
The fall of the Figueroa brothers, long considered the tournament’s favorites, sent shockwaves through the event.
Discussions buzzed among both participants and the crowd, each voice adding to the rising tide of speculation. Stephen, overseeing the competition from a vantage point, wore an expression of barely contained fury. His most formidable team had been ousted in the preliminary round by Skyline Restaurant, an underdog no one had taken seriously.
For Stephen, the humiliation cut deep. Pavilion Foods Group boasted a small army of top-tier chefs across its countless hotels and restaurants. If he wished, Stephen could have fielded ten teams, all capable of overwhelming the competition.
But his aim wasn’t merely to dominate—it was to demonstrate unquestionable superiority. By entering only three elite teams, he intended to sweep the top three places with effortless precision.
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This unexpected turn of events was a bitter pill to swallow.
Marc, standing nearby, noticed Stephen’s darkening expression and scrambled to ease the tension. “Uncle Stephen, don’t let this bother you. Those three aren’t used to losing, so it’s no surprise they might underestimate their opponents. I noticed that while Malcom was doing the cooking, Ashton was actually the one giving him instructions. That clever guy intentionally let Malcom take the lead, which made Covington and his team drop their guard and lose the competition. Honestly, their skills aren’t that great—they just relied on some sneaky tactics to win this time.”
Stephen inhaled deeply, reining in his frustration as his lips curled into a cold, calculating smile.
“You’re right,” he said, his tone sharp and deliberate. “Their little triumph may have drawn some attention, but they’ve reached their limit. Contact the organizers. Make sure Ashton’s team faces one of our remaining teams in the next round. This time, we’ll crush their illusions and reduce them to the butt of every joke.”
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