Looking at the empty Arena, both sides fell silent.
Never in their wildest dreams had they expected the two fighters to perish together.
Mutual destruction. This was a first.
Since the Arena matches began, this was the first time both fighters had died.
At that moment, no one was grieving, and no one was celebrating.
The two emotions pulled against each other until everyone gradually grew numb.
They couldn't celebrate, because their fighter had died.
They couldn't grieve, because it seemed they had won.
For the Chaos Ancient Clan, grief was only temporary.
After all, they hadn't lost outright.
They still held the upper hand.
"Origin Continent wins this match."
The referee had spoken.
Origin Continent had won.
Because whoever died first lost first.
From three straight defeats at the start to trading wins and losses now, countless cultivators on Origin Continent saw hope.
Those first three losses had nearly shattered their spirits.
But now, it seemed they had found their footing again.
Wins and losses had begun to alternate. If that continued, sooner or later they would claim victory.
At first, victory had seemed impossible. Now, there was still hope.
Hope was what Origin Continent's cultivators and experts had lacked most. With it before their eyes, they no longer felt quite the same despair as before.
As long as there was hope. As long as there was hope.
Time passed, little by little.
On both Origin Continent's side and the Chaos Ancient Clan's, the fighters remained subdued.
None of them knew whether they would be the next to die.
None of them knew when death might suddenly strike.
In the blink of an eye, a day passed.
It was time for the next match.
The two referees reappeared on the Arena.
They began drawing lots.
The fighters stood in