From signing off on the equipment to confirming the final schedule, to reviewing the entrance rules and emergency protocols for the individual matches, by the time the whole process was finished, the sky had already grown dark.
When the last piece of paperwork was filed, the organizers finally announced that the day's schedule was over.
Tomorrow would mark the official kickoff of the Global Elite College Challenge individual events.
The representatives from various countries gradually boarded their shuttle buses to return to their hotels.
Amid the bustling crowd of evacuating people, Phelps Prescott stood in the shadows, his face terrifyingly grim.
He had lost all face at the opening ceremony, and then Serena's spectacular performance had caused international public opinion to overwhelmingly side with the Elyndor team and against the Severian organizers.
The Prescotts hadn't just been embarrassed.
Desmond Prescott had been fired on the spot by The Organizing Committee.
The Prescott family's reputation was ruined.
Several Prescott-affiliated stocks had plummeted.
And Desmond had unleashed all his pent-up fury onto him, practically cursing him to hell and back.
In Phelps's eyes, all of this was Serena's fault.
If it weren't for her, the Elyndor team would have long been trampled into the dirt by the Prescotts.
How could the tables have turned so drastically, making the Prescotts the laughingstock?
Phelps gritted his teeth, his eyes full of malice.
Since he couldn't touch her in the light.
He would do it in the dark.
Without hesitation, Phelps made a call, directly contacting several underground thugs in Severia.
He even opened a back door for them, allowing them to infiltrate the competition venue.
He was going to arrange an accident for Serena.
He didn't need to kill her.
He just needed to break her arm or shatter her leg.

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