“给！”声音不大，却像根针似的扎进喧闹的演武场，空气瞬间安静了。所有人都看向声音来源。演武场边缘，一块青石上，不知何时多了个须发皆白的老者。灰布袍洗得发白，背对着所有人。能感觉到，那老者身体挺得笔直，一股无形的压力压得人喘不过气。

成冲 strides to the edge of the ring, his footsteps heavy. He stops a few steps away from the old man, his eyes scanning the figure in the robes. "You seem familiar," he says, his voice calm but firm. "Do I know you?"

The old man doesn't turn around. He continues to face the center of the ring, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I was once a disciple of the Azure Dragon Sect," he finally replies, his voice raspy. "You are young, but your ambition is boundless."

成冲's eyes narrow slightly. "And you're here to test me?" he asks, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"I am not here to test you," the old man says. "I am here to remind you of the path you have chosen."

The crowd remains silent, watching the exchange with bated breath. The atmosphere is charged, as if a storm is brewing on the horizon.

"Who are you?" 成冲 demands, frustration evident in his tone.