"Let's see."
He murmured.
"Who wins the right to raise the little troublemaker."
Final stretch.
The summit loomed above—a swirling cyclone of gold and crimson mist, wrapped around a spiraling path that defied physics.
And yet, Tian Shen was smiling.
His chest heaved. His clothes were torn. There was a mark on his left ear from some illusion beast that turned out to be a chair.
But he was smiling.
Because Lan Yueru had stopped using her sword entirely, opting instead to throw all kind of talismans like shurikens.
And Little Mei?
She was now in full smug mode, ears high, tail swaying, doing absolutely nothing to help except shout dramatic advice.
"Kyuu~, Kyuu~, Kyuuu~."
'Left, Master! No, right! No, dodge! Roll!Pretend you're an acorn!'
"I'm ignoring you now."
Tian Shen panted.
'Kyuuu~.'
The final section had no platforms.
Just a vertical climb, with wind blades, spectral chains, and cursed howls screaming through the air.
One misstep, and you fell.
