The gravel from the Red Mountains was still embedded in the tears of her training suit, and Ryo’s breathing had yet to steady when the ground beneath her feet trembled once more.
The lingering effects of Darley Arabian’s trial had not yet faded before Godolphin Arabian’s test followed in quick succession—the rugged mountain path before her vanished, replaced by a canyon flooded by a deluge.
A murky torrent surged, carrying broken timber and rocks, flanked by steep cliff walls.
Only a narrow stone path wound along the cliff face, barely wide enough for one person to pass.
“Godolphin Arabian’s trial—The Desperate Straits of Resilience.” An ethereal voice echoed amidst the roar of the waves, “Traverse the stone path, cross the torrent, and reach the end of the canyon; only then will you have achieved the first step.”
Ryo looked down at the stone path beneath her feet, covered in slippery moss, with stagnant water still lingering in the crevices.
The slightest misstep could cause her to slip and fall.
The wind in the canyon, laden with moisture, whipped against her face, biting and icy, adding a sense of heaviness to her already exhausted body.
She clenched her fists, a flash of determination in her crimson eyes, and lifted her foot to step onto the first stone stair.
Having taken only two steps, she suddenly slipped.
She instinctively reached out to grab the cliff wall beside her, but her fingertips touched only slippery moss, and she tumbled toward the torrent.
At the critical moment, she exerted all her strength to kick against the edge of the stone step, her knee slamming heavily onto the rock.
A piercing pain shot through her, but she managed to steady herself using the counterforce.
Cold sweat trickled down her temples as she looked down at the surging torrent below; the deafening roar of broken timber crashing against rocks was overwhelming.
Had she been even slightly lax just now, she would have already been swept into the flood.
Gritting her teeth, she rubbed her bruised knee and readjusted her stance—feet shoulder-width apart, center of gravity lowered, fingertips lightly touching the cliff wall for balance.
She stepped on the most solid parts of the stone path with every move, inching forward slowly and firmly.
The wind in the middle of the canyon grew increasingly fierce, accompanied by raindrops the size of beans.
The stone path became even more slippery, and several sections had been washed away by the torrent, leaving only narrow stone ridges.
Ryo arrived at a break in the path, facing a gap nearly two meters wide with the roaring torrent below.
She took a deep breath, stepped back to gather momentum, and leaped—but due to excessive physical exertion, her toes failed to land securely, and her body tilted backward.
She gasped, her hands flailing until she finally grabbed a cluster of shrubs on the cliff wall.
Sharp thorns pierced her palms, and blood instantly seeped out, staining the green leaves red.
The shrub’s roots were not secure; they gradually loosened under her weight, and gravel continuously crumbled from the cliff face.
Suspended in mid-air, the muscles in her arms throbbed, and every second was a battle against gravity.
“I cannot give up…” Ryo gritted her teeth.
In her mind, the figures of her Rigil Team companions running on the Arima Kinen track flashed by, as did her father’s expectations when he signed her up for the Irish Champion Stakes, and her own obsession with victory.
Mobilizing the last of her strength, she gripped the shrub tightly with her left hand, while her right hand fumbled for a protrusion on the cliff wall.
Digging her fingertips into a crevice, she used that leverage to climb upward slowly.
Her fingertips were worn raw by the stone crevices, and her arms ached to the point of numbness, but she never let go.
When she finally crawled back onto the stone path, she collapsed, gasping for air, waves of sharp pain radiating from the wounds on her palms and the bruises on her knees.
Yet she did not stop; she simply bandaged her palms with a corner of her clothing and stood up again—the end of the canyon was still far away, and the trial would certainly not end so easily.
The path ahead became increasingly difficult.
After rounding a corner, the stone path before her was submerged by the torrent, with only a few scattered reefs exposed.
To pass, she had to jump from reef to reef, but the reefs rocked constantly in the torrent; the slightest carelessness would result in falling into the water.
Ryo stood in place, observing for a moment, then took a deep breath and took the first step.
She landed accurately on the first reef.
The reef wobbled violently, and she quickly adjusted her center of gravity to steady herself.
Immediately after, she leaped toward the second reef—but because she miscalculated the impact of the torrent, her body was swept off course by the current and slammed heavily against the reef, a dull ache radiating from her back.
She staggered to steady herself, and just as she was about to continue jumping, the reef beneath her feet suddenly came loose, and she began to slide toward the torrent.
In this desperate situation, the “Endurance and Strategy” symbolized by the goddess Godolphin Arabian suddenly flashed through Ryo’s mind.
She stopped blindly rushing forward and calmed down, feeling the rhythm of the torrent—after every three violent surges, there was a brief period of calm.
She held her breath, waiting for that interval.
The moment the current slowed slightly, she exerted force and leaped toward the third reef, leaning her body slightly forward to adjust her direction using the push of the current.
This time, she landed steadily on the reef!
As if she had unlocked her inner potential, Ryo found the trick to dealing with the torrent.
She no longer fought against the current but followed its rhythm, jumping decisively during each period of calm and lowering her center of gravity to stabilize herself during the periods of impact.
The pain in her palms and the soreness in her muscles seemed to be cast aside; her movements became increasingly fluid and precise, and the once-difficult reef jumping gradually became smooth.
When she finally stepped onto the flat ground at the end of the canyon, the torrent and stone path behind her quietly dissipated.
She collapsed onto the ground, soaked to the bone, her wounds still seeping blood, yet she wore a look of relief.
All the stumbling along the way, every mistake, every struggle, gave her a brand-new understanding of “Endurance”—endurance is not merely persistence, but the wisdom to remain calm and find strategies in desperate straits.
However, the trial had not ended.
The scene before her changed once more; a vast desert appeared in her field of vision.
The scorching sun hung high, sand dunes rolled endlessly, and the air was so hot it felt as if it could ignite.
In the distance, the shadows of a sandstorm were faintly visible.
The trial of the goddess Byerley Turk had already begun.
“The trial of the goddess Byerley Turk—The Labyrinth of Spirit.” The ethereal voice rang out again, “Cross the desert, avoid the sandstorm, and reach the oasis in the center.”
Ryo had just stood up when the scorching sun left her dizzy.
She licked her dry, cracked lips, and just as she took a step, the quicksand beneath her feet trapped her ankles.
She tried to pull her foot out but sank deeper, her body constantly descending.
Panic rose in her heart, and she struggled instinctively, which only accelerated the rate of her sinking.
Just as the quicksand was about to submerge her knees, she suddenly remembered her realization from the canyon trial—panic solves nothing.
She immediately stopped struggling, leaned her body backward to distribute her weight over a wider area, and slowly pulled one foot out, placing it on solid ground before using force to extract the other.
After escaping the predicament of the quicksand, she dared not move forward blindly.
Under the scorching sun, there were no landmarks in the desert, and it was easy to lose one’s way.
She looked up at the sky, trying to locate the sun to determine her direction, but the intense light made it impossible to keep her eyes open.
Just then, the sandstorm in the distance gradually approached, blotting out the sky and sun with a terrifying momentum.
Ryo’s heart tightened; she could only run in the direction opposite to the sandstorm.
But there were no roads in the desert, and the slopes of the dunes were sometimes gentle and sometimes steep.
She ran until she was breathless, her lungs feeling as if they were on fire.
Worse still, her speed gradually slowed, her vision began to blur, and her physical strength was nearing its limit.
“Am I to give up here?” This thought flashed through her mind, and her steps slowed.
At that moment, she recalled the symbols of the three goddesses—the speed of Darley Arabian, the endurance of Godolphin Arabian, and the agility of Byerley Turk.
She had been trying to force her way through with speed and endurance, neglecting the true meaning of “agility.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and no longer obsessed over running in a straight line.
Instead, she adjusted her route along the slopes of the dunes, utilizing the depressions in the dunes to avoid the scorching sun and conserve her energy.
Her movements became agile; at times she stooped to pass through low thickets of seabuckthorn, and at others, she slid along the side of the dunes, avoiding the soft quicksand areas.
When the sandstorm closed in, she quickly found a sunken sand pit, curled her body inside, and avoided the most violent impact of the wind and sand.
This time, she was no longer passively enduring the test; she was actively using wisdom and agility to seek a way out in a desperate situation.
When she finally saw the silhouette of the oasis in the distance, a light never seen before burst forth in her eyes.
Although she was still exhausted and had added many new wounds to her body, there was a sense of composure and determination in her gaze—this was a true breakthrough, a transformation from “brute force” to “clever resolution.”
Ryo walked in the direction of the oasis, each step more steady than the last.
She knew that the trial of Byerley Turk had not yet ended, and even tougher challenges lay ahead.
But after the hardships of this journey, she had shed her past naivety and, forged in the crucible of desperate straits, was gradually growing into a true powerhouse.