"Since this martial competition follows rules similar to before, I believe your masters have already explained them to you, so I won't nag on about them."
After Dao Xuan finished speaking, he waved a hand, and more than a thousand slips of paper drifted down from the sky, hovering in midair.
"Each disciple, draw one. It has your corresponding number and order, as well as the opponent you'll be facing."
At his words, everyone rose into the air one after another and took their slips.
The slips rapidly dwindled until everyone had one.
There had been 1,324 slips in total, and soon, everyone had received theirs.
Only one slip remained in midair, with no one claiming it.
It wasn't that no one had claimed it. Everyone already had one, so this seemed to be an extra slip.
"Senior Brother Sect Master, this slip should be for that new disciple of yours, right? Since he hasn't shown up, it seems he can only give up his bye."
Cang Song stroked his beard, grinning broadly, his laughter carrying a hint of schadenfreude.
Dao Xuan also felt somewhat regretful, but there was nothing he could do. Jiang Siming had vanished without a trace after descending the mountain two years ago, and even after searching for over a month, he had found nothing.
"Who said I was giving it up?"
Just then, a clear voice rang out from the horizon, booming like a great bell from the Ninth Heaven.
Everyone looked over in unison. A frost-covered treasured sword pierced through the clouds, and a handsome young gentleman stood atop its blade.
A gentle breeze stirred his sleeves, making them snap crisply. Peach blossoms even swirled around them.
The figure rapidly approached the crowd.
He held his head high, his bearing magnificent, as though an