"Agreed." Everyone nodded in unison, acknowledging that drawing lots was more sensible than continuing to fight indefinitely.
The elder in the black robe thought for a moment, then waved his right hand, and seven pieces of paper appeared in his palm. Six of them bore the word 'defeat,' while one read 'victory.' Without a doubt, whoever drew the victorious lot would claim the Flame Cold Paulownia Flower; the rest watched intently as the elder was of equal cultivation and therefore, unlikely to be deceitful.
"Let everyone draw one," said the elder in the black robe, casually tossing the seven crumpled pieces of paper into the air. Instantly, each person snatched one for themselves.
"Open them." The elder in the black robe unfolded his own to reveal defeat, and the remaining six participants did the same. Only one person held the paper marked with victory—the hunchbacked elder. Undoubtedly, the mature Flame Cold Paulownia Flower belonged to him.
