Three.
There were three mortal cultivators standing on the opposite end of the seventh step. The three of them were outnumbered and they only need one more elimination before advancing to the next round.
One was noble, one was a swordsman, and the last one was a wild young man. The combination of the three couldn't hope to overcome the numbers in front of them if they were ordinary.
The atmosphere was choking. They were witnessing that at least three of the four mortal cultivators will be the next top ten winners of the competition. History was about to be made and records be broken.
Lyon smirked as he took the lead of the three.
"Look's like we have to fight," muttered Porealus as he sighed.
"There is no other way around it," said Zet before he smiled. "But with big brother here, there is no way that we can lose."
