45th of Season of Air, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

  For the cheap price of five second realm spirit gems, Newt arranged a season-long accommodation for Dandelion amongst the workers of the Explorer’s Gate. He had not seen his big brother since, both of them focusing on their work.

  Newt paused his cultivation until Dandelion finished the new and improved realm blueprint. The man had assured him he would reuse as much of the original design as possible, but Newt had a feeling he would have to discard most of his progress and redo his third realm. Such was the price of power: dedication and hard work.

  His days fused together, in a haze of reading and experimenting with spell formations, checkered by occasional lessons with his master, Elder Flameax, and Elder Twinflower.

  Twinflower had nothing in common with his name. He was a fourth realm outer elder, one of the best spearmen in the sect, according to Elder Alabaster. Scars riddled the lithe old man, marking him a veteran of countless battles, near the end of his lifespan. Newt liked him, but Elder Twinflower had too many burdens, too many regrets, and they had severed his path forward.

  I wonder who would win between him and Dandelion? Newt thought a moment before his jaw flashed with phantom pain. He leaned back, but the spear’s butt end still struck him soundly on the cheek, making his head spin.

  “Your mind is wandering again.” Twinflower sounded like the grating of metal plates. “Focus.”

  Newt wanted to say, “Yes, teacher,” but another sweep with the spear killed the words before they left his mouth.

  Twinflower was merciless. He held nothing back at all. Instead of sparing his student, he used the full power of his peak fourth realm physique to trounce Newt whenever the youth’s attention wandered.

  Newt just beat off another furious assault, when the attacks stopped.

  “You have a visitor.” Twinflower retreated, and Newt turned around, nearly jumping with excitement.

  An outer disciple waited patiently, and he rushed towards him, then he noticed two other outer disciples waiting for core disciples Moonray and Longfang. The latter was Elder Longfang’s great-grandson and another member of the Chamber of Runes.

  “Senior Apprentice Brother, the elders have ordered all core disciples to gather at the Chamber of Instruction as soon as possible.”

  Newt could hear similar words repeated, and the three core disciples went towards the Chamber of Instruction together, just as a horde of outer disciples walked past them.

  “Any idea what’s going on?” Moonray asked.

  Newt shrugged, but Longfang knew something. “I caught a rumor that the ancestor has left for the heart of the jungle to work on some special spell formations. It could be related to that.”

  So, you don’t know anything either.

  After a short walk, Newt and his fellow core disciples entered the main building of the Chamber of Instruction. An outer disciple usher led the way to an indoor lecture hall large enough to fit a hundred people. Forty-three already sat inside, and a handful of minutes later the last of the fifty-four core disciples arrived.

  “Good day to you all,” the venerable in charge of the Chamber of Instruction said. “The sect is organizing three events in the near future. All core disciples and inner disciples below the age of ninety-eight may join the first one, those who complete it may continue to the second, and those who complete the second one may advance to the third. Each of these events is a trial and an opportunity.”

  The air around Newt came close to crackling. Excitement seeped out of his fellow disciples, their emotions tugging at the surrounding spiritual energy and clashing with each other’s. Lightning was building up, close to birthing a clap of thunder, and the venerable smiled.

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  Apparently, the atmosphere made her happy.

  “The first event is the Tower of Suffering, a secret realm left behind by one of our past venerables. Venerable Severrain designed the realm with the intent of honing the disciples’ strength, agility, and endurance through scaling an endlessly tall tower from the outside. To pass the trial, you simply have to finish the climb in the first half of all the participants, assuming half of you finish. Those who fail to reach the top will fail the trial. I must warn you that the climb itself is unfair and treacherous. Each disciple will have their own climbing surface. You cannot exchange them or stray into others’ paths. What you get is yours and it will be awarded randomly.”

  The venerable paused, scanning the crowd.

  “You might wonder why this is important. It’s because all surfaces are different. Some are slippery and will risk falling, others are jagged and sharp enough to cut fifth realm cultivators.” She made an awkward face. “And one of you might even get a simple flight of stairs leading all the way to the top. The trial is unfair, those who have climbing ropes, pitons nailed into their wall, or easy handholds will climb faster and effortlessly. Venerable Severrain, the creator of the realm, insisted luck was also an ability.”

  The venerable smiled, and Newt saw guilt in it.

  “Fortunately, there are only a handful of such tracks, so the most important factor will be you.”

  She took a breath, and Newt knew the worst was coming and it was reserved for him and him alone.

  “Just like some climbs will be extremely easy, a handful will be extremely difficult.”

  There it goes.

  “You might face attacks, such as gusts of wind trying to knock you down, flames scorching you, and landslides and hailstorms pelting you. Again, the fortunate circumstance is that there are only a handful of these and the odds of drawing it are really, really tiny…”

  ***

  Tiny my butt.

  Newt looked at the endless wall stretching all the way into the clouds above and the mist below. Another rock was falling. He summoned the triple-layered Granite Crust and generated as much heat ahead of himself, hoping the scalding air might change the way the rock is falling, before he braced himself for impact.

  Hot air influenced the rock as much as anyone would expect. Thousands of pounds of stone smashed into Newt’s back, flattening him against the tower, and pulling him down to scrape his chest against what must have been a diamond grater.

  Muttering curses, Newt looked down, then up, and after confirming no new rocks were coming to get him, he continued his ascend. He tried not to. He knew he should not, but he had to. Against his better judgment, Newt glanced left.

  He bit his lip for the fifth time. There, some lucky inner disciple Newt did not even know, had gotten to climb a ladder. A ladder. With stone steps and rails as handholds. By the time Newt climbed thirty feet, the inner disciple was long gone in the cloud.

  Newt had originally expected the climb would be simplicity itself for him, he would create hot air beneath his clothes to propel himself upwards. Combined with his enhanced body, reaching the top should have been child’s play; regardless of how difficult his track was.

  Originally, he thought the difficulty was in the jagged, impossibly tough spikes jutting from the wall. Then the rocks fell.

  The first one came as a tingling of his danger sense, and Newt hugged the wall at the last possible moment. The rock dragged him down over a hundred feet, undoing all his previous effort.

  So, Newt continued slowly. Glancing up every handful of seconds, hugging the wall, and getting his Granite Crust shredded against it. Progress was slow, painful, and infuriating because the person next to him got a ladder, while the one to the right got a normal sheer cliff. He could not see much further to either side, not without risking his fall, but he had the feeling he had drawn the worst lot, like always in his life.

  Huh. This really is like life. You’re going forward, facing adversity, with unknown threats looming over you, tossed by someone you don’t see and probably never will. And regardless of how everything seems to be outside your control, you always have a choice. Climb, rest, or let go.

  Newt thought he was onto something deep. Then he clung to the wall and let the rock smash against his back and press him into the spikes.

  Or maybe someone was just a sadist; facing their imminent death, they decided to spread their misery all around. Maybe getting a final laugh out of it. I wonder whether the realm guardian is watching me?

  The rock seemed eager to prove Newt right and pressed him against the wall extra hard. A breath later, it was gone, and Newt kept climbing.

  An hour after the trial’s start, Newt felt a bout of weakness. His limbs grew more clumsy, and the invisible ground infinitely down below seemed to pull at him with double the previous force.

  Newt stopped. A dizzy spell struck him, and he wondered whether he had reached some milestone height. He gingerly moved his hand to the next handhold, making sure not to cut himself, before moving his legs and pulling himself up.

  Newt had barely climbed a handful of yards, when in the track left to his, a familiar face appeared and climbed the ladder almost at a running pace. Newt gazed in confusion, shook his head, and continued the climb.