Once Azreal comprehended the Stormblade Surge, he set off in search of the Lower Duelling Grounds, a location within the Heavenly Root Sect used for duelling competitions for outer disciples. Azreal recalls his new Master, Elder Juhee, giving him brief directions to the lower duelling grounds and instructing that if he was late, that would become the least of his worries. “If you're even a minute past noon, I'll show you true pain” Azreal recalled her last words.

‘Should be somewhere between the Ancient Dragon restaurant and my dorm… Master! These directions are useless,’ Azreal curses as he begins his descent down the mountain. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, Azreal decides to stop and try to see if there are signs or directions to the duelling grounds. Much to his frustration, the Sect seems to have a real lack of signage and direction. ‘Apparently, it's just common knowledge to know where every building is located,’ Azreal muses.

Azreal concludes he has spent enough time wandering aimlessly. Recognising the urgency, he resolves to seek guidance. He chooses to approach a duo that appears to be around his age for directions. The first is a towering, well-built man deeply engrossed in conversation with his companion, who, in stark contrast, is much slighter in stature.

“Hey! Can I bother you for directions to the Lower Duelling Grounds?” Azreal says, a kind smile on his face. Having stopped a few metres away from the pair, he does not want to intrude on their conversation and have an outrageous reaction occur, like the pair wanting to fight him or getting angry for interrupting their conversation… That only happens in web novels! That would never happen here in real life! Azreal is confident in his thoughts on the matter.

Azreal waits just a moment before the taller of the duo turns to face him, a clear glint of discontent in his eyes. The smaller of the two stops speaking once he notices his taller companion has turned to look at Azreal. “What gives you the right to interrupt our conversation?” the smaller man spits in Azreal's direction. The taller man puts his hand up as if to halt the smaller man’s words and movement. As Azreal watches the exchange, a thought crosses his mind, ‘Did I just fucking jinx myself?’

“Young Master, please do not bother yourself with someone as insignificant as this person. I will deal with them, so you may move over to the bench by the road; this will not take long,” the taller man says as he moves over to the bench, which is just a few feet from their location, before gesturing for his Young Master to sit down.

“Fine! Killion, you better deal with him quickly. We have to get to the duelling grounds so I can impress the Elders with my display of might!” the smaller fellow huffs as he sits down on the bench, crossing his legs before looking at Azreal.

Killion nods before making his way over to Azreal with an expression clearly showing his intent to cut down Azreal where he stands. “Killion, I believe is your name? Why are you being so aggressive? I overheard we are both going to the duelling grounds, so couldn’t we simply walk together?” Azreal says.

“No one but myself and those of worthy lineage are allowed to walk, talk or even approach Young Master Zhen,” Killion asserts. As Killion's steps grow ominously closer, his aura bristling with barely-contained aggression. Azreal prepares himself for a confrontation he knows he has no interest in escalating. Just as the tension reaches its peak, and Azreal begins to draw his new sword, a familiar voice cuts through the mounting pressure.

“Killion, that's enough. We don't need unnecessary trouble today,” Darian’s voice, calm and authoritative, causes both Killion and his Young Master, Zhen Kuli, to pause. Darian, with his imposing build, moves to stand beside Azreal, serving as a buffer between him and the advancing Killion.

Killion hesitates, looking back at Zhen Kuli, who waves dismissively, signalling his protector to stand down. "Let's not waste our energy here. Remember, we have bigger fish to fry at the duelling grounds, and who knows, you might fight each other during the competition today. That will be your end," Zhen Kuli says with a sneer, standing up from the bench and staring down Azreal. With a final, disdainful glance at Azreal, the Zhen duo departs, their presence leaving a sense of unease that lingers in the air.

Once the pair is finally out of earshot, Azreal turns to Darian, his curiosity piqued. "Who were they? And what's with the attitude?" he asks, still processing the abrupt encounter.

Darian sighs. "That was Zhen Kuli, the entitled young master of the Zhen family. I had the misfortune of growing up with my family neighbouring his. They're known for their aggressive fighting style and powerful Fire-based techniques and, unfortunately, their extreme arrogance. The Zhen family holds a significant position within the Sect, contributing to their... let’s say, inflated sense of importance. Killion is his bonded guard, a slave, stripped from his family and forever bonded to Zhen Kuli’s life."

Darian shudders at the thought of being a bonded slave, while Azreal, taken aback by such a cruel method, can only nod, absorbing the explanation. "Thanks for stepping in, Darian. I guess I should be more careful about who I approach here," he says, half-joking yet mindful of the complex dynamics at play within the Sect.

Darian claps a hand on Azreal's shoulder. "Don't mention it. But yeah, navigating the Sect's social landscape can be as tricky as the martial path itself. Come on, I’ll guide you to the duelling grounds. We wouldn’t want to miss the opening ceremony."

As Darian and Azreal begin their walk towards the duelling grounds, Darian stops in his tracks, mouth currently wide open, while looking at Azreal. “What’s wrong? Are they back?” Azreal asks, readying his sword and activating the first form of the Stormblade Surge. Azreal's actions cause Darian’s jaw to drop further. “H-how did you manage to raise your cultivation base so quickly… and is that a sword technique?”

Azreal quickly realises he is the target of Darian's abrupt movement and surprise. A hint of embarrassment overcomes Azreal as he sheathed his sword, other disciples of the Sect looking at the duo with a judgemental gaze. “Ah… That…” Azreal responds.

“I do not fully understand myself. I simply attempted to cultivate in my dorm last night and managed to break through twice! Pretty cool, right!” Azreal says, giving Darian a thumbs up. “Pretty cool?” Darian asks before landing a solid punch on Azreal's upper arm. “That’s fucking amazing, Azreal! That has to be some kind of record! You make me green with envy!” Darian says, his face breaking into a large smile, clearly elated his friend is a gifted cultivator.

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“Now, let's get moving before we're late and embarrass ourselves… But you’ll have to tell me about that sword technique afterwards as well, and do not skip any details!” Darian says, dragging Azreal towards the duelling grounds with a serious pace in his step, his heart racing as they mere moments away from being late to their first event as official disciples of the Heavenly Root Sect.

Darian and Azreal, acknowledging the urgency, decide that walking won't suffice; they will have to run. The streets are bustling with activity, shop owners tending to their customers, tavern workers bustling about, and various disciples not participating in the tournament milling around. The duo navigate through the lively streets of their new Sect with a frantic pace, weaving between shops, dodging through crowded areas, and sidestepping onlookers with agility only derived from need.

Their movements, a careful balance of speed and precision, draw occasional glances from bystanders who can't help but notice the two figures cutting through the crowd like fish swimming upstream. A scene that would soon become familiar to inhabitants of the Sect and the cities that lived within its walls. Darian and Azreal blur past, heralding the rise of what would soon be legendary figures within the Sect.

Azreal and Darian manage to arrive with just a few moments to spare before the initial speech by the Sect Master. As the two young men attempt to catch their breath, they move through the crowd of disciples who have not been personally recruited by the Great Elders yet, eventually finding a spot where they can see the entirety of the Duelling grounds. Azreal, once again impressed by the sheer size and immense scale, swallows as he takes in the scenery.

The Heavenly Root’s lower duelling grounds stand as a testament to the Sect's prosperity and dedication to martial prowess and the art of combat. Spread across a vast area at the base of the mountain, the grounds are meticulously designed to accommodate both the heat of battle and the eager eyes of spectators. Central to its layout are multiple raised platforms, each serving as an arena for the Sect's outer and inner disciples to cross swords, refine their skills, and settle disputes under the watchful gaze of Heaven’s Universe.

These duelling platforms, crafted from sturdy, enchanted stone, are elevated a few feet above the ground. Around each platform, protective barriers shimmer with a faint glint, present if the sun strikes the barrier just right. These barriers are a testament to The Spirit Harmony Branch’s advanced mastery over protective arrays.

Bordering the arenas, tiered viewing areas rise like the petals of a lotus, each tier offering unobstructed views of the duels below. These are divided into sections: one for the eager disciples who come to learn, cheer, or gauge their future opponents, another for distinguished guests, wealthy merchants, visiting Sects or visiting dignitaries, and a more secluded, elevated section for the Elders, from where they can oversee the proceedings with discerning eyes, ready to impart wisdom or intervene if the need arises.

At the heart of the lower duelling grounds stands a grand pavilion, its architecture a harmonious blend of strength and elegance, mirroring one of the few philosophies of the Sect. This pavilion serves as a command centre of sorts, where the Elders placed in charge of the duelling grounds convene, strategies are discussed, and matches are organised. It is here that the fates of many are decided, whether the system is truly equal and fair as the Sect claims will never be known.

“Darian, this lower duelling ground sure is grand. This Sect must be fucking wealthy!” Azreal leans over and whispers to Darian, causing him to smirk. “Your mouth sure is foul, Azreal. It will get you into serious trouble one day,” Darian says, his gaze never leaving the Sect Master, who is now standing on one of the training grounds.

The Sect Master places both his hands behind his back before a familiar sound echoes throughout the entire lower duelling grounds. “Welcome, and congratulations to all the disciples who managed to pass the entrance examination! I hope you have settled in and managed to get a night of rest, as you will need every last drop of energy today.”

The Sect Master, with a swift and graceful leap, transitions to another duelling platform, moving himself deeper into the crowd of new disciples. The gathering, numbering close to a thousand, far exceeds Azreal's expectations of success for the entrance examination. ‘There must be some very talented and strong individuals in this crowd.’ Azreal scans the crowd, looking for disciples he believes will give him a difficult fight.

First, his eyes catch Kayleen, her posture exuding confidence and grace amidst the sea of competitors. Her robes, a beautiful emerald green with silver and gold details, accentuate her stunning blonde hair, which glints under the sun. Her determined eyes scan the grounds with a warrior's focus, clearly ready for the duels that lay ahead.

Nearby, Junai stands with a stance that speaks volumes of his readiness and arrogance. Clad in new crimson robes with silver trim featuring an emblem of a sword enveloped in flames on the back. It only accentuates his robust physique. He wields his snake-like metal sword with an air of superiority, his dark green eyes scanning the crowd dismissively before making eye contact with Azreal. A wicked smile appears on his face, one that Azreal knows means he will not miss his target a second time.

Azreal is the first to break away and continues to survey the rest of the disciples. His vision settles on a couple of disciples who stand out compared to the rest. He sees a woman who stands taller than anyone near her, bulging muscles and an eager smile ignited by the idea of fighting. Her brunette hair is long and unruly, and she has a sword similar to his new Master strapped to her back. A giant of a man, with bronze skin and a slag metal warhammer, stands with his arms crossed, his eyes never wavering from the Sect Master’s position, admiration evident in his expression. A thin man with a hood pulled over his head, seemingly trying to hide his face, which is not the object of Azreal’s interest. His interest lies in the large brown and green spear, with intricate patterns etched along the blade that the man holds. The next pair that catches his eye are Killion and Zhen Kuli, the young master and bonded pair, standing close to Junai.

“The competition today is not one of win or lose; it is a chance for everyone who has just entered the Sect to show their worth! Even a hard-fought loss is better than showing a cowardly display. The ability to stand up, weapon in hand, in front of a person much stronger than yourself, demonstrates courage and a strength of will, which is part of what makes an exceptional cultivator!” The Elder, as elegant as ever, moves to another duelling platform.

“Those of you who have already been chosen for a branch do not have to participate today. However, if you manage to impress the Sect Elders of other branches, or the Sect Elders who do not belong to a branch, your efforts will surely be rewarded! I believe there is no reason a single disciple here should not participate! I also vehemently believe that each and every one of the disciples present has the ability to achieve greatness and rise to the very top of the cultivation world!” The Sect Master's voice booms with vigour and excitement.

A surge of enthusiasm sweeps through the previously apprehensive disciples at the thought of the day's duel, invigorating them with newfound courage. Meanwhile, only a handful of disciples maintain their composure, their calm demeanours betraying their formidable natures. Azreal, having noted these individuals earlier, can't help but think, "Each one of them is a force to be reckoned with. I hope my path doesn't cross with too many of theirs..."