The crowd waited for a long time, yet the organizers still gave no sign of starting.
The cultivators in the stands gradually grew impatient, and the commotion swelled. The noise from the arena rolled over everyone's eardrums like a surging tide, wave after wave. Some of the more hot-headed cultivators began whispering to one another, their complaints rising and falling in an endless chorus.
"What on earth are these organizers playing at? They've made us wait this long without a single peep—are they deliberately making fools of us?" demanded a middle-aged cultivator in a green robe. His face was contorted with anger, his eyes burned with impatience, and his fists clenched involuntarily as he spoke.
Chapter 448