The Sect Master of the Heavenly Root Sect moves towards the central pavilion, his movements full of power and grace. He stands next to another Elder of the Sect wearing the same black and golden robes, whose face resembles his own. Breaking the momentary stillness, an Elder clad in crimson robes, similar to Junai, yet heavily adorned with symbols and a dual trimming of gold and silver, identifying himself as an Elder of the Crimson Flame Pavilion, steps forward. The Elder's robes flutter gently, cradling a golden cauldron in his arms. This cauldron, modest in size yet pulsating with contained power, seems to resonate with the energy of countless tournaments past."Today," he begins, his voice carrying across the pavilion with a clarity that commands attention, "each disciple will receive a ticket. This ticket holds your fate for the forthcoming trials—a number designating your platform, and the sequence of your combat."He gestures with practised ease to the ground at his feet, where the symbol of Platform One is etched. "For clarity," he continues, the edge of his robe brushing against the symbol as if to emphasise its significance, "those holding a ticket marked with Platform One will stand next to the platform, as I do now."His gaze sweeps across the faces before him, ensuring his words have taken root. "And should your ticket bear the combat order of one, you'll face your counterpart with the matching numeral. Each platform will consist of these duels, until there are only two disciples left. There will be a half-hour break once we reach this point, before the final duels continue. It is here, on these platforms, where your strength, resolve, and mastery will be tested."The Elder begins to infuse the cauldron with his fiery Qi. The disciples standing closest to the Elder begin to sweat profusely and slowly move away from platform one. 'Why are all the disciples moving away from the Elder?' Azreal has a confused expression spreading across his face, before he feels a slight lift in temperature. 'The Elder's Qi cannot be changing the ambient temperature of this entire field, can it? I truly have a long journey ahead; the depths of the Elders are far from what I can fathom.'A minute passes, and every disciple within fifty metres of the duelling platform one slowly steps backward, before a subtle yet powerful wave of Qi spreads through the crowd of disciples. A feeling of déjà vu warms Azreal, as a small white ticket appears before his eyes, materialising out of the thick fiery Qi that flows like a river in search of its destination.Azreal reaches out and grasps the white ticket, letting out a small grimace. 'The ticket is hot!' He moves the ticket between each of his hands before the ticket cools to a lukewarm temperature. 'Platform twenty? I do not see platform twenty near me. I wonder what Darian got? I hope Junai is on a different platform…' Azreal's thoughts betray his attempt to maintain a calm exterior.Darian slaps Azreal's shoulder. "I got platform three, you?" "Platform twenty, any idea?" Azreal responds, standing on the balls of his feet, trying to find his platform over the sea of disciples who have begun moving. "It must be towards the back of the duelling grounds, as the Elder stood on platform one, and platform three is just a few metres that way," says Darian, pointing his massive hand to a platform, which has a few disciples already patiently waiting to the side."Good luck, Azreal. You may have amazing cultivation speed and strength beyond even me, but do not forget most of these disciples have trained for their entire lives, often under the tutelage of their powerful families. So, do not underestimate them, and more importantly, do not overestimate yourself," Darian says, releasing his grip on Azrael's shoulder. Darian then walks to stand in front of Azreal. "Seriously, try not to die out there. I've heard a few of the more vicious disciples aim to cripple or kill their partner." Darian's eyes shoot to Junai, who moves towards pavilion one with a vile smile as he eyes anyone who crosses his path."I'll try my best, Darian, but I am not confident. I understand the Stormblade Surge's first stage, but I have never had to fight before, definitely not with my life on the line," says Azreal. Azreal lets out a small breath through his nose, straightening his back and shaking his head. "I've got this! Good luck to you as well, my friend…"Azreal spends a few minutes winding his way between disciples. The duelling grounds have turned into a maze, filled with other disciples trying to find their own way. 'This is just chaos—' Azreal's thought is interrupted as his head collides with another disciple's chest. "Fuck me, who put that wall there…" Azreal mutters to himself before craning his head and locking eyes with the disciple who is a solid foot taller than Azreal. She is clad in the Sect Master's Personal Pavilion, The Heavenly Defense Pavilion, outer disciple robes which are a deep void-like black, with a muted gold trim."Oh! My apologies, truly. I didn't hurt you, did I?" she inquired, her concern evident in the gentle tilt of her voice, compelling Azreal to reassess his initial impressions. 'Her voice is so serene and captivating' Azreal stands with a dazed look on his face."Oh no, I broke another one… The Sect Master will kill me!" cries out the tall disciple, as her breath rapidly quickens. 'What have I done?!?!', her mind races with visions of dire repercussions for accidentally breaking a disciple. Azreal, snapping back to the present, can't help but be charmed by her distress. "Really, I'm perfectly alright! There's no need for alarm," he assures her, his smile broadening.He playfully waves his hand before her face, in a failed attempt to get her attention. "Earth to... um, sorry, I didn't catch your name. But as I was saying, you can relax. I'm not injured," Azreal persists, aiming to soothe her worries."Oh! I... uh, I'm Lian, thank the Heavens you are okay. I accidentally broke one of the other disciples' collar bone in a similar incident, so I am truly happy that you are okay," says Lian, her face adorned with a brilliant smile. "I am Azreal. There is no need to be so concerned! I am sure most of the disciples here are made of tougher stuff than he was. It was a pleasure to run into you, Lian. Good luck with your duels," says Azreal, returning Lian's smile with one of his own.'How can someone so huge have the most serene voice on the planet… The women in this game world are truly amazing' the smile never leaving Azreal's face as he finally makes his way to duelling platform twenty.As Azreal makes his approach, his eyes focus on a group of nineteen disciples who are waiting next to the podium. An Elder, wearing the Spirit Harmony Pavilion's robes, which are a calm sky blue with white trim, featuring a flowing river and blooming lotus emblem, smiles widely as Azrael approaches. "Finally, our last disciple joins us! And if my old eyes don't deceive me, you have already joined the Unbound Pavilion. You must be a mighty and impressive young man."Azreal's face becomes flushed with embarrassment. All nineteen disciples turn to face him, their critical gazes burrowing into his body. "Please, Elder, I am not any more impressive than the disciples present. I simply got lucky!" pleads Azreal, his gaze fixated on the Elder who lets out a hearty chuckle. "A strong cultivator will always be the centre of attention. I hope you can overcome your shyness, for there will be many times you will be under the critical gaze of many more than you are now."Azreal nods his head in response to the Elder's advice before retrieving his ticket. "I am number three. Who am I paired against?" Azreal says. A man, who appears to be the same age as Azreal, eighteen, raises his hand. Azreal, activating his Celestial Gaze, breathes a sigh of relief at the young man's information.