As noon shifts into afternoon, Azreal finds himself pressed up against a tree, his heartbeat pounding. His run comes to an abrupt end as he stumbles upon a large grass clearing, surrounded by the tall trees of the forest.

Azreal peeks around the tree he is hiding behind. 'Two bodies, ripped apart. What could do something like this? Junai again?' As he considers his next move, his train of thought breaks by a deep and guttural scream, piercing through the forest that was silent until a moment ago.

Azreal hesitates for a brief moment, before another thought crosses his mind. 'When I needed to be saved, Kayleen acted. What am I doing now? Hiding like a pathetic coward…' He decides to move across the clearing and approach the direction of the scream. 'Thank you for the sword, I will put it to good use,' Azreal thinks as he crouches next to one of the dead participants. He prises the sword from the participant's hands. As Azreal makes his way to the other side of the clearing, a bestial roar resounds throughout the forest, sending a shudder down his spine. "Okay… so definitely not Junai," Azreal mutters to himself.

Making his way closer to the sounds, Azreal finds himself pushed up against a skinny tree with dark brown bark that flakes off as his back pushes against the trunk. He can see another two bodies of disciples wearing blood-soaked white robes, their bodies a testament to the brutal encounter. They are mutilated beyond belief and lay unmoving beneath the dominating presence of a powerful wolf. Its thick grey fur, scarred with signs of battles won, the wolf's grizzled face solely focused on its prey.

'This wolf is going to fucking tear me apart. I don’t even know if I can do anything but become another dead body.' Azreal begins to doubt what he can do against the grey wolf who releases another deafening roar as he stalks his prey. Another Entrance Examination participant can be seen screaming and backing himself into a tree.

"H-h-help me!" a terrified voice screams out. Azreal reacts on impulse and moves a few metres closer to the next tree. He finally manages to see the source of the scream for help.

Another Entrance Exam participant, whose robes are torn across his chest and arms, showing a couple of deep open wounds bleeding heavily across his chest. Clearly, these wounds were inflicted by the grey wolf’s claws. A young man, towering and muscular, his physical prowess unmistakable, with short, dirt-caked brown hair and dressed in the same examination robes as Azreal, lets out a desperate scream. The young man is attempting to scramble backwards before true terror appears on his face as realisation sinks into his soul... the lacerations across his chest and arms slow his movement to a crawl.

"Save me! Somebody, please!" His voice tears through the still air, a desperate plea laced with fear of the inevitable. "My arms... they're useless," he cries out, his gaze lifting to the skies as if to accuse the gods themselves.

Azreal's eyes take in the grim scene, the young man's arms are savagely torn, rendered beyond use by deep, merciless gashes. Drawing a deep breath, Azreal grips his sword, a determined murmur escaping his lips, "Someone saved me once! Now it's my turn to wield that mercy."

The wolf, engrossed in its imminent kill, fails to notice Azreal's approach. Hidden by the shadow of the trees, Azreal moves with lethal intent, eyeing the beast's vulnerable rear. Upon activating his newfound skill, <Poisonous Sword Stance>, a surge of clarity overwhelms him. It is as if the fog that clouded his martial prowess has lifted, granting him innate mastery over the blade in his hand.

With the wolf's attention still fixed on its prey, Azreal springs into action, his approach silent but deadly. As he closes the distance, a newfound might courses through his veins, his grip on the sword adjusting instinctively for the kill.

The moment the wolf senses danger, it is already too late. Azreal's strike is swift, powered by a surge of qi that he barely understands himself. The blade sings through the air, a deadly arc aimed with precision at the beast's hindquarters.

The impact is catastrophic. The sword, imbued with venomous intent, cleaves through the wolf's legs, severing them with a brutal efficiency that leaves no room for survival. The creature's attempt to flee is pathetic, its agonised howls a testament to its pain as the venom takes hold, its flesh decaying at an alarming rate.

Azreal stands over the fallen beast, his heart racing with adrenaline and shock. "Did I just do that?" he questions the silence. The bloody sword in his hand, a stark reminder of the power he wields. ""It had to be me..." The realisation dawns, mingled with a grim sense of pride at the savagery he is capable of.

The young man, whose breathing has become incredibly laboured, stares in disbelief as he leans against the tree. A few seconds of silence pass, as Azreal contemplates his new power, and the young man reflects on his near-death experience.

After another few moments of silence, Azreal is the first to break out of the stunned silence. He turns his attention to the young man and watches as he retrieves a small red pill. Quickly throwing it into his mouth and swallowing, a few seconds pass as the young man’s energy begins to circulate around his body, the bleeding slows, and the wounds begin to close. The young man then forces himself to stand up, using the tree to support himself, wincing and groaning in pain as his strength begins to return.

"Words fail me in gratitude," the robust young man manages, offering a deep bow despite the evident pain etching lines across his face. "I'm Darian Feldspar. I am indebted to you, and I will never forget what you have done for me. Rare is the hand extended in aid amidst these trials—a truth my siblings warned me about before I entered the Entrance Examination. Rest assured, I'll find a way to repay your kindness."

As Darian straightens, a glint of resilience in his eyes, Azreal notes the swift mending of his injuries, a testament to the strength of his body. Azreal responds, "No need to be so thankful, Brother Feldspar. I am Azreal. I do not have a family name, so you can call me Brother or just Azreal." Azreal smiles before continuing.

"I was merely passing along the kindness I received from another, who saved my life earlier. Another participant, a girl named Kayleen. However… I wouldn't mind having you owe me a favour!" A playful smirk dances on Azreal's lips, signalling the birth of a new camaraderie forged in the crucible of trial.

“I think I owe you more than one favour, but I won’t force the issue,” Darian stares in the direction of the mountaintop and sighs, “It’s going to be a long slow walk.” Azreal looks into Darian’s eyes, feeling slightly conflicted. Should he help Brother Feldspar reach the mountain, or should he attempt to move towards the mountain alone, allowing for a sneakier and faster approach? After a few seconds of contemplation, Azreal decides to help Brother Feldspar reach the mountain.

‘A friend with an older brother or sister in the Sect would help me, if this world is anything like the novels I used to read,’ Azreal laughs internally.

Azreal moves to put his shoulder under Darian’s arm. “Let me help you, I won't leave you here. I’ll carry you to the mountain. In your state, you’ll be lucky to even make it in time, let alone if you encounter another monster.”

Darain initially tries to argue that Azreal should go on his own, but Azreal’s stubbornness manages to overcome any argument that Darian uses. After a few minutes of back and forth, Darian lets out a heavy sigh before agreeing with Azreal.

As the duo makes their way through the forest, now at a much slower pace, Darian decides to investigate Azreal’s cultivation base. The power he displayed was at such a level that Darian would struggle to match, even with his most powerful strike. A scary thought passes through Darian’s mind as he notices Azreal’s low cultivation base. “Are you a new cultivator?” says Darian with a quizzical expression crossing his face.

“Yes, I only started learning to cultivate at the beginning of this exam, you know the method the old guy gave out?” Azreal replies with an awkward smile.

Darian's complexion turns pale, his voice escalating unintentionally. "What!" It rings sharply in Azreal's ear. "Ouch, keep it down," Azreal winces, pressing a finger to his lips, signalling for silence. "You'll attract unwanted attention if you keep shouting."

"Sorry, I got carried away," Darian murmurs, lowering his voice. "But seriously, how? You only learnt the entrance technique, right? That technique's a setup for failure, meant to weed out all but the most gifted or stubborn. They say only a handful make it through the exam every year."

"Really? I knew it was a trash cultivation technique… but only a handful out of everyone who participates?" Azreal's eyebrows rise in disbelief. "Talk about stacking the deck against us. Doesn't seem fair."

"You're not seeing the bigger picture, Azreal. This is the Heavenly Root Sect, where the elite of the cultivation world are forged. Making it here means something. It's about proving you're among the best," Darian explains, pride swelling in his voice.

“Hmm, really? I am not entirely sure how I even came to this place, let alone come to participate in this entrance examination. To be honest with you, Brother Feldspar, my memories of this world are blank,” Azreal responds with a calm undertone. Azreal wishes to tell the truth to Darian, however, every time he begins to have that thought, an unknown pressure stops him from speaking on the matter.

“You don’t know how you got here? That’s insanity. Are you lying to me? You can trust me, Brother Azreal; you don't need to hide something from me,” Darian inquires, eyeing Azreal next to him, and due to how tall Darian is, it comes across as him looking down on Azreal.

“Hey! I saved your life. I’m not hiding anything; I genuinely don’t know how I got here, or why, but I figured I might as well try my best to enjoy this life to the fullest. And if this Sect is the place where the cultivation giants of this world are forged, I plan to become one of these powerhouses! And there have to be many ways to enjoy life and improve my strength here!” Azreal says and begins to pick up the pace while shouldering Darian's massive weight, impressing Darian with his strength and endurance.

A few more hours pass, and the two young men become closer to one another, a sense of trust forming between Azreal and Darian. This feeling of human connection, which Azreal hasn’t felt properly in years, gives him a sense of safety and a small flicker of happiness begins to imprint into Azreal’s heart.

The afternoon sun begins to glow with warm light, indicating that sundown isn’t far. Azreal speaks up, “As night approaches, we can either continue to make our way towards the mountain, trying to navigate our way through the forest with minimal vision, or we can try and find somewhere to rest.”

Darian looks at Azreal with a shock on his face, “We can’t stop! We have to make it in time. I have to pass this Entrance Exam, or I will be the laughingstock of my whole family!” Azreal has learnt that Darian is the grandson of a former Great Elder of this Sect who had died giving his life to defend a group of disciples against an evil Sect’s assault. Yet, even so, his heritage pales in comparison to that of Junai Nilxan and Kayleen Lu, who are direct descendants of the current Great Elders presiding over various Pavilions within the Sect.

Azreal's curiosity is piqued as Darian mentions his siblings' status within the Sect. Despite the pride evident in Darian's voice, Azreal finds himself confused, unfamiliar with the terminology and implications of what a core disciple actually is. "What exactly does being a 'core disciple' entail? As my memory is foggy, I find my knowledge of this world's intricacies is... lacking," Azreal admits, his expression earnest.

Darian nods. "Right, let's clear that up. The Sect categorises disciples into three main tiers: outer, inner, and core disciples. Outer disciples are the most numerous, beginners essentially, navigating the initial stages of their cultivation journey. They face the harshest tests and have the least resources."

"Inner disciples are those who've shown promise, advancing in their cultivation and contributing significantly to the Sect. They receive better training, resources, and are often tasked with more critical missions."

"Core disciples, like my siblings, stand at the pinnacle within the disciple hierarchy. They're not just advanced in their cultivation; they're seen as future pillars of the Sect, potentially even its leaders. They train directly under the guidance of the Sect's Elders and have access to the most profound teachings and resources. Being named a core disciple is both a recognition of one's potential and a testament to their achievements and loyalty to the Sect." Darian's explanation paints a vivid picture of the Sect's structured path to power, also providing Azreal with a clearer understanding of the journey that lay ahead.

Azreal nods. “Thank you, Brother Feldspar. I should aim to be a core disciple then?” Darian lets out a small laugh, “Brother Azreal, we need to survive tonight first before I can even begin to explain to you how far being a core disciple is away from us…”

Darian turns to Azreal, his voice steady. "As night falls, the forest's creatures grow more aggressive; with luck, they will find other targets." Darian’s words resound through Azreal’s head, coming to an understanding; if the monsters target other participants of the Entrance Exam, their life will be lost, and he might just survive the night. Azreal, nodding firmly in understanding, replies, "The danger escalates after dark; then we shouldn’t become a stationary target and keep an eye out for any monsters lurking in or behind the trees." They both agree to keep moving throughout the night and decide to forgo sleep. "We can't afford to stop now," Azreal adds, determination clear in his tone.