"The drawing is over."
"This battle, number thirteen."
As his words fell, countless cultivators who had been eagerly awaiting the match revealed disappointed expressions.
They had finally worked themselves into fighting condition—how had it not been them?
Wasn't this just messing with them?
"Who is number thirteen?"
"Me."
A middle-aged man wearing golden armor, with two horns growing from his head and a stern, imposing face, stepped out from the crowd.
He walked forward step by step, an utterly terrifying aura radiating from his body.
"It's actually the Dragon Hall's Third Young Master."
"Hahaha, Long Yuan, you lucky brat. When you get up there, remember to give that Chaos Ferry Ancient Clan a good beating."
"Remember, crush that Chaos Ancient Clan with an absolutely domineering stance, understand? An absolute crushing defeat."
Listening to the words around him, a smile appeared on Long Yuan's dignified face.
"Naturally."
With that, he walked toward the Arena step by step.
"Who would have thought number thirteen would be our little sister?"
On the Chaos Ancient Clan's side, a group of experts looked at the petite, adorable little girl beside them, their expressions somewhat surprised.
"Hmph, so what if it's me?"
"Are you looking down on me?"
Zhao Leer crossed her arms, curling her lips in displeasure.
"Of course not. Little sister, when you go up this time, make sure to display the might of our Chaos Ancient Clan."
"That's right, little sister. If you're no match for him, just admit defeat and surrender. Winning or losing doesn't matter anyway—just don't let anything happen to you."
"Exactly. Winning or losing isn't important. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters."
"Right, right, right."
Hearing the flattering words around her, Zhao Leer curled her lips and lifted a foot to walk toward the Arena.
"You