51st of Season of Air, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt’s plan was simple. It was so simple, in fact, he was certain the realm spirit would consider it cheating. Then again, the last time he believed he had cheated, Newt suffered losses which greatly outweighed his winnings.

  He reached the ledge and tore a pair of inch-wide ribbons off his sleeve. He made a double loop around his knuckles, wrapping them in cloth, leaving his fingertips free before running for the next cliff, once more abandoning the reward nest.

  A third of the way up, Newt’s fingertips touched the viscous oil. His right jerked back immediately but it was too late. Without panic, Newt pushed the cloth he had prepared up higher, covering the tips of his fingers, and kept climbing, ignoring that handhold.

  Newt expected he would soon encounter another oil trap, but that did not happen. The next time he dipped his fingers into the sticky oil, it was with his other hand, and the simple trick of pushing the cloth onto his fingers solved the issue.

  Things are different. Ever since double or triple oil traps became a thing, they were always aimed at his slightly weaker left hand. All of them. But with him so far from the lead position, the challenge no longer seemed to actively conspire against him.

  Am I imagining things, or is that really the case? Newt did not know, and decided to assume the realm guardian’s malice was reserved for the lead group.

  ***

  “And Newstar Blazing Salamander finally thought of protecting his hands once he got oil on them.” Sleek chuckled, and Elder Woodhopper sent her unspoken regards to his entire lineage as Northstar picked up after a moment’s silence.

  “He is the ninety-seventh contestant to have started using a protective measure to counter this particular trap. In all honesty, he is twenty years old and at the peak of the third realm. Newstar simply lacks experience.”

  You tell him, Northstar.

  In all honesty, the trial was boring, but the woman was doing her best. At least she offered useful or interesting trivia, unlike the commentators broadcasting the fourth realm disciples’ challenge, who discussed random nonsense. Such as who might fight whom, and what techniques they would use. Nobody would risk a battle unless they were removing direct competition, like what happened to Newstar and Dandelion.

  Woodhopper glanced at the sect master and his knowing smirk. Is it possible? She understood the meaning behind his smug looks.

  Did Dandelion really lose on purpose to remove Explorer’s Gate’s competition?

  On one hand, it sounded impossible, on the other, the sects eliminated were the ones which stood a chance of squeezing their way into the top ten.

  Diamond Talisman was not finished yet, but they were lagging behind Newstar. And unlike Newstar, they were not catching up to the lead group, meaning they would get eliminated in the next five to eight hundred participants. They focused on mind over body, and this challenge would humble them into the lower half of each group’s participants.

  Woodhopper observed the contests for all three realms, keeping her attention on all their sect’s disciples. There was nothing nail-biting or stressful about the contest. It was almost like a local, sect-hosted challenge. One where she was looking to see which disciples stood out.

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  All five fourth-realmers were pulling their weight. They were not in the lead group, but they were not in the last either. Quite the contrary, they were firmly in the second quarter of all participants, a solid result all things considered. Especially with Rexheart and Emeraldstreak pushing two whole cliff walls ahead.

  As for the second realm disciples, the things were more muddled. Explorer’s Gate was doing fine-ish. The more powerful sects had higher quality disciples, and it was the most visible at the lower realms, where the physical body, conditioning, and expensive alchemical concoctions used to augment their physiques showed the greatest result.

  “They are doing fine,” the sect master reassured her in a grandfatherly voice. “The worst possible scenario, a very unlikely one, is that we finish fifteenth, which is already an excellent result, but the way things are developing, and with our most bitter rivals already out of the running, we’re looking at the eighth or ninth spot, which is an unprecedented success.”

  The two kept watching and listening to the three duos narrating the matches. By the twentieth bluff, Newt rejoined the lead group and started collecting his bonuses. On the twenty-first, he took the first place, but when he reached his nest and collected his bonus, he let go and allowed himself to fall.

  Woodhopper watched patiently, the trial started half an hour ago, and while at first twenty to thirty contestants had fallen off the cliff, the competition had reached the point where fifty to seventy fell off, and yet there still remained a bit over fourteen hundred contestants.

  She scanned the third realm group. Fourteen hundred and thirty-six, while the other two realm categories had a considerably larger number of contestants, fifteen hundred second-realmers and twenty-seven and fourteen hundred ninety-eight fourth-realmers.

  “They are slowing down, but the speed of elimination is picking up.” The sect master sensed Elder Woodhopper’s spiritual sense erratically roaming the projections, counting the remaining participants. “I don’t think we will see more than fifteen-sixteen cliffs, but that depends on how high Newstar can climb on his own.”

  Elder Woodhopper hesitated, but decided to voice her thoughts. “How much do you think Newstar’s trick of claiming two bonuses will help us?”

  “One place up at most in the third realm competitions, meaning around thirty points in total, or next to nothing compared to where we are. If there are no surprises, we’re placing ninth. Meaning we’re going to get a reward meant for the grand sects and thirty-six participants in the next tournament.”

  The sect master’s evaluation matched Elder Woodhopper’s. The event was already over in his eyes, as it was in hers.

  ***

  Ignorant of the fact that his effort was wasted, Newt kept going. Fighting not just for every yard, but for every inch. He fell two out of three cliffs, catching up, taking the lead, then dropping again, to push his sect several dozen feet ahead of the others.

  But even with all his advantages, fatigue seeped its way into his muscles. By the thirtieth cliff, his calm breath had quickened.

  The rest of his sect was probably out already, and the double claiming of rewards only countered a reward another team’s second strongest member had collected. The odds of finishing in top ten were low and growing lower with each wall his teammates left unscaled and each reward they failed to collect.

  He did the numbers again and again, reaching different conclusions each time. He could give up and it would not matter much. He could climb the highest, and it would help his sect several places. Both were possible, depending more on other teams, than it depended on him.

  “Well, you’re in a bad mood.” Maelstrom snapped Newt from his ruminations just as he pulled himself onto the ledge.

  He looked at her with a half-smile.

  “Are you here to fight?”

  “Quite the opposite, I am here to propose an alliance between our two organizations.”

  Newt looked at her, his eyebrow raised. What type of alliance could be had in a trial like the one they were taking? Maelstrom read Newt like a book.

  “The matter is simple. I am by far the most powerful member of my team. What I lack in explosive strength, which is not bad, I make up for in endurance. I expect you and I will be the final two contestants, possibly that Hardstone lug from the Titans taking third place and duking it out with us for the second.”

  Newt blinked. “This is being broadcasted to the world.”

  “So? He knows he’s a lug, or do you think I should use a more sophisticated word like a boor?”

  Newt knew Maelstrom understood what he was trying to say, and the woman was making fun of him on a live projection in front of his seniors, friends, and the rest of the general cultivator population.

  “Oh, you mean that me, a woman, is saying I can outlast all these men in an endurance competition. Don’t worry, everyone knows gender plays no role in cultivation. It’s all about the talent and perfect mindset.”

  She revealed her pearly teeth in a mischievous smile, and Newt barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

  “So, what’s the alliance you have in mind?”