Time passed swiftly, and the day of the Sensual Dragon Palace Freshmen Tournament arrived.
The colossal stadium—an ethereal coliseum shaped like a blooming lotus—was already packed with thousands of cultivators.
The crowd was a blend of senior disciples draped in silken palace robes and new entrants clad in simpler uniforms that barely masked their humble backgrounds.
Travis stood quietly beneath a shaded archway, observing the gathering storm of energy and emotion.
His sharp gaze swept over the sea of new students. It wasn't hard to tell who came from noble bloodlines and who rose from commoner roots. The latter wore robes of coarse spirit-thread cloth, dyed in the pale purples of outer sect status. But despite their appearance, many among them radiated determined auras—fresh cultivators who had clawed their way up through sheer effort and pain.
