As the ascent continued, the sheer white rock face began to change, giving way to treacherous, narrow ridges overgrown with bizarre, luminescent vegetation. The initial excitement of the participants quickly turned into dread as they entered the mid-tier zone of the cliff—the nesting grounds of the mountain's natural guardians.
The first true obstacle manifested as a dense forest of ancient, pale-barked magical trees. As soon as the front-runners breached the tree line, the seemingly dormant roots and thick, thorny vines came alive, thrashing wildly like whipped serpents. Screams echoed across the cliffside as unsuspecting cultivators were caught by their ankles and hurled off the ledges.
Compounding the chaos, screeching echoes filled the air as a horde of Moon Monkeys descended from the canopy. These agile, silver-furred beasts moved with terrifying speed, throwing heavy, mana-infused stones and clawing at anyone attempting to climb past their territory.
"Watch out! The damn branches are moving!" a young cultivator from a minor sect roared, desperately swinging his iron sword to sever a vine that had wrapped around his thigh.
Right next to him, an elite disciple from a medium noble house sneered, channeling fire mana into his palms to burn through the vegetation. "Out of my way, peasant! If you can't even handle a few trees, you have no right to enter the Moon Lake!"
Within a matter of hours, more than half of the entire pool of participants were brutally eliminated, trapped by the relentless tree vines or beaten back by the coordinated Moon Monkey attacks.
Leon, however, moved through the chaotic battlefield like a phantom. Utilizing his advanced sensory perception, he predicted the trajectory of the thrashing vines seconds before they struck. With flawless precision and fluid agility, he ducked, swayed, and leaped across the rocky terrain, dodging every single attack with minimal effort. He refrained from using any flashy elemental spells, maintaining a perfectly constant, unassuming pace while remaining deeply embedded in the middle of the surviving crowd.
While maintaining his steady climb, Leon kept a vigilant eye on the other participants around him. He quietly analyzed the movement techniques of the minor noble heirs and the raw, unrefined combat styles of the rogue cultivators, measuring their capabilities against the extensive tactical knowledge he had memorized from the family library.
As Leon rounded a steep, jagged bend near the upper ridge, the temperature dropped sharply. The dense mist parted to reveal a territorial pack of Moon Wolves—predatory beasts with sleek, midnight-blue fur and glowing silver eyes that hunted in the high-altitude zones. Three wolves instantly lunged at Leon from the blind spots of the crag, their jaws snapping shut on empty air as the boy fluidly spun on his heel, dodging their coordinated strikes with millimeter precision.
Recognizing that the pack would not relent, Leon's gaze locked onto a massive, scarred Moon Wolf barking commands from a higher ledge—the alpha.
"A controlled strike should suffice," Leon thought to himself, his expression perfectly calm behind his silver mask. "No need to waste mana or leave a trace of my element."
Stepping lightly off the rock face, Leon closed the distance in a blur of motion. Before the alpha wolf could even react, Leon pivoted and delivered a swift, perfectly placed kick directly to the beast's temple. He precisely controlled his immense physical strength, utilizing just enough force to instantly knock the alpha unconscious without fracturing the skull or causing an unnecessary explosion of mana. With their leader instantly taken out, the remaining wolves whimpered, scattered, and retreated into the misty crevices, clearing the path completely.
Down in the crowded city squares, the entire spectacle was perfectly captured by the giant, floating magical mirror. Seeing the brutal eliminations and the spectacular combat sequences play out in real-time, the massive crowd erupted into a frenzy of shouting and cheering.
"Look over there! Did you see that kid in the white cloak?" an old mercenary shouted, pointing eagerly at a section of the glowing mirror. "He didn't even use a shred of mana, but he took down a mid-level alpha wolf with a single kick!"
A nearby merchant rubbed his chin, his eyes lighting up as he pulled out a pouch of gold coins. "Incredible agility. He's definitely a dark horse. Hey, bookmaker! What are the current odds on the masked kid in the middle pack?"
The bookmaker quickly flipped through his ledger, shouting over the roaring noise of the crowd. "The masked boy's odds are currently twenty-to-one! He's maintaining a steady pace, but the top noble heirs are already halfway up the peak! Place your bets now, ladies and gentlemen! Will the dark horse make the top ten, or will the royal family sweep the board?"
"Put fifty gold pieces on the 3rd Prince to finish first!" a wealthy noble patron called out from a terrace. "But put ten gold pieces on that masked kid to squeeze into the top ten. His movements are far too clean to be an amateur."
The spectators began to loudly discuss the merits, bloodlines, and hidden techniques of the surviving contenders, their voices echoing across the city as the betting pools grew larger by the minute.
From her secluded vantage point, Lady Karen watched the floating mirror display Leon's effortless victory over the wolf pack. Her expression remained neutral, but her eyes held a profound sense of quiet admiration for the young master's flawless execution, knowing the roaring crowd below still had absolutely no idea whose hidden genius they were truly witnessing.