When Successful, Help the World

As the saying goes: when poor, cultivate your own virtue; when prosperous, benefit the world. When I lacked the ability, I managed myself; now that I have the ability, I must ensure those around me live better. Having settled for years and sought the Way for five, I have spent this time honing my martial arts, losing track of days and nights, and surviving countless life-or-death battles—all to make a name for myself! Who wouldn't want countless disciples and followers, or to stand above ten thousand while answering to only one? However, Azar only wishes to be a simple art restorer. He simply cannot stand the ostrich-like mentality of the Night Elf, and he wants to walk a path he deems correct. Regardless, he must fight first. This is Azar's opening shot; it must be struck well, with prestige, with momentum, and with a roar that echoes his name! "Defeat my guards first"—this is just posturing, for one cannot lose the upper hand in spirit. Though Azar has been behind closed doors brewing his ultimate moves, it does not mean he is ignorant of the outside world. In just a few short years, the Well of Eternity has silently altered the physique and appearance of his kin: hair has become softer, teeth smaller, skin better—if you want results, use the best! Bah, wrong script. Azar is increasingly certain that they are the ancestors of the Night Elf—the Dark Troll—though he does not know when the High Sorcerer of the tribe will research Arcane magic or begin to spread the glory of magical civilization. For Azar, he must have a group of followers to increase his voice within the tribe, so that he may offer constructive opinions and suggestions in future developments. To put it bluntly, Azar wants power—great power. Being the Chieftain's nephew is useless, but being the tribe's top warrior and the Chieftain's nephew combined will be very effective. By then, even if Azhara appears, he will be able to contend with her.

"Maiev, I intended to guide your cultivation, but as you can see, your uncle faces his own challenges. Your performance today was truly brilliant; you have carved out a different path for combat techniques. I hope you persist in your choice. I have a suggestion: if you were to conceal yourself, would that not be of greater help to your combat? Ponder this yourself for now; once the clan-wide competition concludes, I will instruct you personally."

"Yes, Uncle. I will keep your words in mind. I shall take my leave."

Watching Maiev depart, Azar walked slowly toward the Well of Eternity. Reaching the water, which stood at his waist, he bent down and reached into the depths, drawing out two single-handed swords: Quel'Delar! Quel'Serrar! Weapons forged by dragons in his past life, he had now crafted two identical blades. He had obtained the Titansteel from the Drakkari tribe and the Ghost Iron from the Zandalari tribe—the irony being that they did not know its true utility, discarding it simply because their technology was insufficient to smelt it. Azar, however, knew the key: heat, extreme heat! Smelt the Titansteel to forge Quel'Serrar. Cold, extreme cold! To forge Quel'Delar. He knew that in the game, Arcanite Bar was used, but Arcanite is certainly not as good as Titansteel, and Saronite cannot compare to Ghost Iron. You say he lacks the technology? That is underestimating him. The High Sorcerer is no mere figurehead; they are the predecessors of the Elven Archmages. Conditions of extreme cold and extreme heat do not stump them. Furthermore, after the century-long war against the Aqir, there is no shortage of excellent blacksmiths. You say he lacks the blessing of the dragonkin and that they aren't as good as the originals? Don't be ridiculous, brother. Can the dragonkin compare to the early Well of Eternity? After all, it is the bloodline of the Eidolon, and its nourishing effects are top-tier. One dark red, one blue-gray, with metal-forged dragon claws gripping the blades. The essence of a spear serves as the hilt, wrapped in century-old crocodile skin—it has a distinct texture. They are not mere tools for killing; they are works of art. The dark red Quel'Serrar and the blue-gray Quel'Delar, soaked in the Power of Order, are saturated with it. Azar even fantasizes about asking the Blue Dragon to engrave some enhancement runes in the future; then, these two sharp weapons will be truly formidable.

If a worker wishes to do his job well, he must first sharpen his tools. Having a good weapon does not mean you will win; ultimately, it is strength that speaks. If your own ability is lacking, even a Titan's sword is useless. Holding the swords, he slowly channeled the Power of Order within his body into the blades, resonating with the inherent Power of Order within them. Yes, they responded to Azar. He felt filled with power. He leaped, landed on the shore, and unleashed Thunder Clap! Heroic Strike! Auto-attack—auto-attack—Enrage! A roar of Rampage—Burst—Raging Blow—Raging Blow—Raging Blow! A full combo, and he was done.

The weather today was fine, with a gentle breeze. Four people arrived at the training grounds. Two stood respectfully, one holding a spear—this was Falco, and the other was Maiev. There was also Muru, who stood to the side holding Azar's twin blades, while the last person paced about casually. "Ever since I guided you on how to perceive the Power of Order three years ago, I have not asked about your cultivation. This is my dereliction of duty. I brought you here today to make amends. For the next period, I will demonstrate my martial arts here. You may watch from the side; how much you comprehend depends on your own ability." Without waiting for them to react, Azar began his demonstration. The two retreated silently to the side, watching with intense focus, fearing they might miss even the smallest detail.

"What! How did he disappear? What skill is this?" Maiev exclaimed.

"Don't speak, watch closely. Ask when it's over." This highlighted Falco's superior qualities; he knew clearly when to do what.

Gouge—Kick—Sprint away! The first wooden dummy fell.

Heroic Leap—Intimidating Shout—Disarm—Blade Dance! The second dummy was shredded.

Moving a distance away, facing the third dummy, he used Battle Shout—Charge—Raging Blow—Raging Blow—Execute.

"En? The third dummy didn't react?" Maiev whispered in confusion.

"No! There are 6 pieces!"

Hearing this, Azar chuckled and tapped the dummy with his finger. The dummy split down the middle, severed at the waist into three sections, totaling exactly 6 pieces.

"Alright, you may ask questions."

"I'll go first, I'll go first! Uncle, what was that skill you used at the start to disappear?" Maiev was the most impatient.

"I have told you before, many of your moves are explosive and deal high damage—even fatal in one blow. Therefore, you must conceal yourself and strike when the opportunity arises!"

"But shouldn't you have continued attacking after the Kick? Like Eviscerate—Garrote—Blade Dance?"

Azar smiled faintly. "Your idea is good, but it is too idealistic. Real combat is not imagination, nor is it a tournament. You must adjust in real-time based on the situation. My demonstration just now was meant to tell you: if a strike fails, run immediately. Only by staying alive can you deal damage."

"One last question, do I need to learn Intimidating Shout? That was what I was hit with during the last match." Mentioning the previous duel, Maiev looked a bit aggrieved.

This was a good question. Warrior or Rogue? A plate-wearing rogue? Azar pondered for a moment and said calmly, "We will encounter many techniques during our cultivation. Should we learn them all? I think not. We must build our own path from the start. Then, choose the best among them to practice! However, you cannot ignore the useless ones either; you must study and understand how to counter them. Only by doing these three things can you continuously improve and reach the pinnacle."

"Go now, and truly comprehend your own Way."

The king of all-around melee! This was Azar's path of the warrior.