Wind Currents and Landing Points

The wind on the platform still blew fiercely. The scorching humidity lunged at people like a pack of savage beasts, baring fangs and claws. Like invisible whips, it lashed mercilessly against the cliffside rock face with sharp crackles, as though mocking those who tried to conquer it.

More than half of the six-hour countdown had already passed, and time was growing increasingly tight. Ahead, on the cliff path, a team of three examinees was nervously attempting to descend along the flank. They had tightly bound themselves together with strips of cloth, forming a makeshift "human chain," hoping to use each other's weight to hang in turns and relay an egg upward.

Leading them was a tall, lean young man with a vivid red headband tied around his forehead, snapping loudly in the wind. He gripped half a bamboo pole, a homemade probing rod for locating eggs hidden in the cliff face. As he carefully slid down the wall, he shouted, "A little farther left! I saw an egg there!"

However, the girl below looked extremely nervous. Her voice trembled as she replied, "Any farther left and she'll hit a hot-air vent! The wind there could blow her away, and she could fall off the cliff!"

"Hurry up! The next gust is coming!" another boy above shouted anxiously. He clutched the cloth rope tightly, his palms already slick with sweat.

Just then, a sudden wave of heat surged up from the bottom of the cliff, lunging at them like a ferocious fire dragon with teeth and claws bared. The rising current came violently, erupting with a thunderous BOOM. The three examinees were struck hard by its immense force, their bodies lifted helplessly into the air.

"Aah—!"

The rope snapped taut, launching the red-headbanded youth directly into the air. Like a kite with its string cut, he slammed into the rock wall, his shoulder crashing heavily against a jutting corner with a dull thud. The bamboo pole slipped from his hand and vanished into the mist below like a needle.

With a sharp snap, the entire cloth rope broke. The girl was first swept upward by the rising current; when it passed, she plummeted downward at high speed, her legs kicking wildly. She instinctively covered her head and vanished into the mist-shrouded depths of the cliff.

The examinee above, who had been holding the rope, hurriedly tried to pull back, but his support gave way and he slid downward as well. He could only cling desperately to the rock's edge, barely managing to save himself.

The platform fell eerily silent. Even the faintest rustle of wind and grass could be heard clearly. None of the examinees who had been watching and hesitating dared to attempt it so casually again.

In this silent corner stood a rock seat, and sitting on it was Ryan. He sat completely still, as though he had merged with his surroundings. He made no sound and did not even make the slightest movement. Only his fingers lightly tapped against the stone.

The tapping was soft, but it carried a distinct rhythm, as if he were counting beats. Every tap seemed to share some subtle connection with the wind's gusts. Ryan appeared to be silently recording the intervals and fluctuations of the wind this way.

"Forty-eight seconds, fifty-two seconds, forty-seven seconds, fifty seconds..." he murmured inwardly. Five seconds before peak wind pressure erupts, there are faint signs of pressure leakage. Each vent has a different angle, but the main current rises from the center of the valley and veers west.

He sketched the "thermal model" forming in his mind into the limestone dust: vents, rock channels, descent points, and return routes along safe zones, marking every step with arrows and dots.

If I were a Spider Hawk, which spots would I choose for nesting? Places with ample thermal currents, far from the vents but close to the main rock vein. He looked up toward the opposite side. Over there is the best option.

He had not told anyone any of this. Nor did he need teamwork, because in this task, any information exposed could be misused by others and might even lead to fatal consequences.

Far away, atop a tower that rose into the clouds, Menchi stood quietly at the edge of the observation deck. Her gaze swept across the entire platform like an eagle's. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a patch of rock dust densely covered in markings—the place where Examinee No. 199 was reconstructing the terrain lines with stone powder.

The recorder beside her asked curiously in a low voice, "What is he drawing?" Menchi gave a slight nod and replied softly, "A wind-pressure cycle chart." The recorder frowned in confusion. "Did he mistake the exam site for a geography lab?"

Menchi gazed at the examinee in the distance and said thoughtfully, "Perhaps." Her voice drifted out faintly.

Just then, the wind-pressure cycle chart was finally complete. Ryan slowly rose to his feet, unhurried and composed. His eyes were calm as still water, as though the commotion around him had nothing to do with him. After finishing the drawing, he lightly wiped his fingertips across the dust, erasing the diagram completely without leaving the slightest trace.

Two people already sat motionless at the cliff's edge. Several others had simply left their eggs halfway down and stopped to rest, nearly giving up on returning altogether. The platform was empty and desolate. Aside from the occasional breathing and one or two cries of pain rising from below the cliff, it was as if the area had been sealed inside frozen time.

He went to the westernmost side of the platform, to a stretch of cliff line no one had chosen before. Its terrain was badly fractured, making it seem impossible to climb. But Ryan knew that route was the passage closest to the main current's "wind shadow." In the model he had worked out, the wind speed there was the lowest. Though the angle was dangerous, it was the best trajectory for "rebounding" after descending.

He confirmed the interval. As he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his hands, he silently counted in his mind.

...Forty-three, forty-four...

When the new burst from the vent veered east, he slid down along a crack in the stone and landed steadily on a small rock ledge. One hand braced against the ground while the other swiftly slid into a rock hollow hidden in shadow. The space was narrow, only large enough for him to crouch halfway.

He crawled forward, and sure enough, saw a grayish-white egg ahead to his right, half embedded in a recess in the cliff wall. Its shell gleamed with a soft luster.

Heat slowly vented from beneath the egg, like a natural thermostat. Ryan did not reach for it immediately. Instead, he used the back of his hand to sense the changes in the surrounding breeze. Only after confirming that the next wave of heat would come from the lower left did he gently twist the egg free.

The movement was completed even faster than the first time. The egg was securely wrapped in his clothes and held against his chest. Ryan lowered his center of gravity and waited for the direction of the next wind surge to change.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine...

When he counted to fifty, the wind gradually rose from below. Ryan stepped onto a protruding point, and in the instant the airflow lifted, his body was borne upward like a feather. He reached back and grabbed the rock ledge above, hooked himself over it, then shifted sideways and flipped over, landing steadily once more on a recessed surface he had marked in advance.

It took him only three minutes to climb back onto the platform.

He did not walk toward the recorder, nor did he hand over the second egg. Instead, he went straight back to his original spot and sat down.

He simply sat there, took out his water pouch, poured out a little of the remaining water to wipe his hands, then used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck again.

He had never intended to submit this trip.

This time, his purpose was not to earn a result, but to verify his model—to confirm the existence of a "safe route."

Only by walking it himself could he be at ease.

From afar, Menchi watched Examinee No. 199 return to his place and said nothing more.