"Next match, number thirty."
As the drawing of lots ended, Ye Lin sighed.
Once again, it was not his turn.
Ye Lin glanced up at the Arena, then sat cross-legged off to one side and slowly closed his eyes.
Since it was not his turn, he might as well regulate his breathing here.
Sooner or later, his turn would come.
At this rate, it would only take a few months.
He could wait that long.
Patience...
"Number thirty. That's me."
"I've waited so long it's finally my turn. I was about to fall asleep."
"Off I go."
A young man chuckled softly.
He wore a black robe that gave him an imposing air.
But a wicked smile played on his face.
"That fellow picked a good time for this."
A cultivator looked toward the young man and spoke in a low voice.
"Hmph. A mere Demonic Cultivator. If we didn't need him right now, he'd have been killed long ago."
"That's not it. On the Origin Continent, the weak are prey to the strong. He's a Demonic Cultivator, but as long as he hasn't crossed anyone he shouldn't, no one will bother him."
"I hear that fellow is very strong."
"No one who made it here is weak. That fellow has quite a reputation. I want to see just how strong he really is."
"I'm curious too."
"His reputation may be poor, but right now, I sincerely hope he wins."
"Same here."
The cultivators watched his retreating figure as they talked.
Judging by what they said, the young man's reputation truly was poor.
Until now, the contestants had treated one another with great respect. After all, they all had the same goal: to win.
They had only one enemy: the Chaos Ancient Clan.
Their shared interests and shared enemy bound