Two hours passed quickly. At the very end, the prodigies of the Six Great Factions arrived fashionably late.
They walked in at an unhurried pace, their expressions haughty. In their eyes, the strong were supposed to make their entrance last—that was the only way to save face.
Their arrival seemed to bring an invisible pressure to the entire battlefield, filling the air with a grim, murderous chill.
These prodigies looked at the ordinary people on the battlefield, their gazes as sharp as blades as they swept over the common contestants as though looking at a swarm of ants.
Someone gave a disdainful snort and mocked in a low voice, "Every Tom, Dick, and Harry has come to enter the competition."
"Do they really think they can make it into the top three with so-called luck?"
"That's how ordinary people think. Their talent is terrible, and they refuse to work hard, yet they want to soar into the sky on the strength of luck."
However, one of the prodigies shook his head, a contemptuous smile in his voice. "You're wrong to think that way. Without these ordinary people to serve as foils, how would our strength stand out?"
His words made the other prodigies nod one after another, smug expressions appearing on their faces.
The prodigies of the Six Great Factions entered the battlefield with their heads held high and chests thrust out. Their splendid garments gleamed brilliantly beneath the sunlight, every piece woven from rare materials.
The emblems of their respective factions were embroidered onto their clothing, displaying their identities and status.
These garments were not merely extravagant; they also contained special effects, such as increased defense and speed, making them seem utterly out of place among everyone else.
The Top-Tier Experts of the Six Great Factions also entered one