Sand from the edge of the oasis still clung to her eyelashes, carrying a salty dampness.
Ryo had just grasped the core of the second trial, “Balance and Adaptability” — using her breath as an anchor and turning the gaps in terrain shifts into opportunities to adjust her rhythm — when the ground beneath her feet suddenly surged.
The fragrance of green grass was instantly replaced by the fishy scent of a rainstorm.
The once firm ground softened into thick mud, and her just-taken step sank deep into it, wrapping around her ankles with a bone-chilling cold, as if countless invisible hands were pulling at her legs.
“Not enough.”
An ethereal female voice pierced through the curtain of rain.
The crimson phantom of Darley Arabian flashed behind the clouds, and crimson light particles fell with the raindrops, splashing into the mud.
Ryo jerked her head up; rainwater flowed down from her bangs into her eye sockets, stinging so much she couldn’t open them.
She gritted her teeth and pulled her feet out of the deep mud; the muck stuck to her soles weighed at least half a jin, and every step required several times more effort than usual.
As far as her eyes could see, the boundary between the grassland and the swamp was constantly shifting, like a writhing green python; one moment of carelessness would mean stepping into a deeper trap.
She forced herself to calm down and adjusted her breathing according to the technique she had just comprehended — feeling the airflow circulate within her body as she inhaled, infusing strength into her legs; as she exhaled, she exerted force, using the reaction force of the mud the moment the soles of her feet pushed off the ground to leap up and avoid the sinking traps.
Rain blurred her vision, so she relied on her hearing to judge the sounds of terrain changes and her sense of touch to perceive the differences in the ground’s firmness.
Her crimson eyes shone astonishingly bright in the rain, and she gradually found her own rhythm amidst the chaos.
Just as she precisely leaped over three suddenly appearing swamp fissures in a row, the azure phantom of Godolphin Arabian quietly appeared on a tree trunk beside her, her skirt like flowing lake water, her tone cold as ice: “The essence of endurance is maintaining clarity during extreme exertion, not relying solely on brute force to sustain oneself.”
Before the words faded, three azure water orbs condensed out of thin air, with fine sparks of electricity flowing over their surfaces, hurtling toward her with a whistling sound.
Ryo’s pupils constricted, and her body instinctively lunged to the left.
Mud splattered all over her face and body, but she was still grazed on her left arm by the water orb on the far right.
“Hmm —”
A wave of numbness instantly spread along the meridians of her left arm, like ten thousand ants gnawing at her nerves, and her muscles uncontrollably stiffened and twitched.
Her left arm hung by her side, as if it had turned into a piece of wood without sensation; she didn’t even have the strength to lift it.
Worse still, the numbness was slowly spreading, creeping from her shoulder to her back, making her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, instantly disrupting the rhythm she had just found.
“Not enough!”
Darley Arabian’s voice sounded again, carrying unquestionable majesty.
A gale suddenly swept in without warning, instantly tearing the rainstorm into fine threads of rain.
The wind grew stronger and stronger, whipping up gravel, dried resin, old plastic bags, and dead grass soaked by the rain from the ground, hurling them toward Ryo like hidden weapons flying across the sky.
She could only use her one movable right arm to protect her head, struggling to bend forward against the gale; every step felt like a fight against an invisible enemy.
The terrain under her feet changed again.
The muddy grassland quietly faded away, replaced by a scorching desert.
The blazing sun pierced through the clouds, instantly baking her wet clothes half-dry, making them stick stickily to her body and bringing an unbearable, stuffy heat.
The sand was baked scorching hot; she could feel the burning temperature even through her shoe soles.
Ryo’s throat instantly became dry and painful, as if a ball of fire were burning inside; every breath brought a scorching, painful sensation.
She instinctively licked her cracked lips and tasted a faint metallic tang of blood — she had been hit in the corner of her mouth by gravel just now.
The numbness had already spread to her right shoulder; her body was becoming increasingly stiff, and her range of motion was getting smaller and smaller, yet she still gritted her teeth and persisted.
The gale carried sand and gravel, whipping against her face like needle pricks, but she stared fixedly at the constantly changing horizon ahead, with only one thought in her mind: Cannot stop, absolutely cannot stop.
Byerley Turk’s bright yellow phantom appeared on a sand dune at the edge of the desert, her hem fluttering in the wind, her tone carrying a hint of expectation: “Flexibility is not evasion; it is finding a chance of survival in a desperate situation and turning all interference into assistance.”
As soon as the words fell, the terrain switched again.
The desert disappeared, turning into rugged mountainous terrain with jagged rocks and steep slopes.
The gale grew even more violent, almost knocking her over.
The rocks it whipped up were also getting larger; the biggest one was the size of a fist, flying past her waist and smashing against the rock behind her, shattering into countless small pebbles.
More azure water orbs attacked from all directions, like a dense meteor shower.
Relying on her remaining consciousness, Ryo struggled to weave through the jagged rocks, sometimes bending down to dodge flying stones, sometimes using the cover of rocks to avoid the water orbs.
But the numbness had already spread to most of her body; her legs began to give way, her vision became blurred, and the scene before her eyes doubled in the shaking.
The wounds on her body were increasing, and the wound on her forehead caused by gravel was still bleeding, trickling down her brow bone, mixing with sweat and sand, and gumming up her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she had been running; the terrain repeatedly switched between grassland, swamp, desert, and mountains, and each switch was accompanied by the ultimate test of the environment — the cold of the rainstorm, the scorching heat of the desert, the ruggedness of the mountains, and the ravages of the gale.
A trash bag whipped up by the gale once covered her face, making her cough as if suffocating.
Just as she managed to pull it off, she was struck in the back by a withered tree branch, bringing a piercing, agonizing pain.
“Not enough!
Not enough!”
The voices of the three goddesses intertwined, and the three lights — crimson, azure, and bright yellow — wove into an invisible net in the gale, enveloping Ryo within it.
The wind reached an unprecedented intensity, whipping up a broken tree branch as thick as a bowl, which swung toward her back like a giant whip, smashing down fiercely.
At this moment, Ryo’s physical strength had been exhausted to the limit.
The numbness had spread to her whole body; her limbs were as stiff as a rusted machine, every breath was so weak it was almost stopping, and her heart was beating violently in her chest, as if it were about to break through the confinement of her ribs.
She heard the whistling sound of the branch breaking through the air, but she no longer had the strength to dodge, not even the strength to curl her body up for defense.
“Bang —”
The branch smashed heavily onto her back, emitting a dull thud.
Ryo let out a muffled groan, her vision went black, and her body fell forward to the ground like a kite with a broken string.
Her forehead knocked heavily against the hard rock, and fresh blood instantly gushed out, blurring her vision.
She wanted to struggle to get up, but found that her body completely refused to obey; her limbs and bones were all screaming with pain and exhaustion, and she didn’t even have the strength to move a finger.
The gale was still howling, whipping up sand and dead grass, striking her unconscious body.
The azure water orb attacks quietly stopped, and the phantoms of the three goddesses slowly appeared above her: the crimson Darley Arabian, the azure Godolphin Arabian, and the bright yellow Byerley Turk.
They silently watched Ryo lying on the ground, their gazes complex — containing scrutiny and expectation, yet not a shred of pity.
Ryo lay on the ground, her cheek pressed against the cold rock, and she could feel the breath of life slipping away bit by bit.
Only the howling of the gale remained in her ears, along with the faint, ethereal whispers of the three goddesses.
She opened her mouth, wanting to shout something, but could only emit a weak breathy sound.
Her consciousness gradually blurred, and the pain and exhaustion of her body submerged her like a tide; finally, she sank completely into boundless darkness.