A Battle of Three Hundred Rounds

"Senior Brother, you can't get another bye this round." Yu Xingsi's eyes flickered with anticipation and worry. He hoped Chen Fan could win one more match.

After all, one more victory would put him in the finals, but that was destined to be impossible.

Although Chen Fan was now the Young Sect Master of the Qingyun Sect, Song Zheng, as his Senior Disciple Brother, still reminded him softly, "Junior Brother, proceed with caution. We all believe in you."

"Senior Brother, good luck!" Zhou Quan said as well, his face full of concern.

Li Qiang lightly patted Chen Fan on the shoulder. "Just do your best. Don't be too obsessed with it."

Chen Fan nodded slightly, a smile appearing on his face. "Don't worry. Even if I can't win, it won't be embarrassing. I'll step down at the right time."

Couldn't win? How could that be possible?

At last, he had a chance to properly show what he could do.

What are those people from the imperial family thinking, giving me byes all this time?

Are they afraid I haven't drawn enough hatred yet?

Luckily, the ones competing later are all my own brothers. Otherwise, who knows how badly I'd be set up?

Chen Fan secretly pondered this, his gaze turning toward the three brothers about to step onto the stage and draw lots. The eyes of all four met.

At that moment, the Dagan Emperor, clad in a yellow robe, slowly emerged from the imperial viewing platform.

The entire venue instantly fell silent. The Dagan Emperor's gaze blazed like torches as he swept it across the crowd.

He raised a hand slightly, signaling everyone to rise, then said in a steady yet powerful voice, "Today's grand event is a gathering of the finest talents of our dynasty.

"I hope all