Chapter 18: Cheeky bugger!

As if on cue, fate decided to remind him not to get cocky. From above, a small boulder dislodged and tumbled down toward Li Fan. He yelped, pressing against the cliff as it smashed past. Looking up, he saw movement on the ledge above. Could it be another competitor? Or a creature?

He heard voices. "I'm telling you, I saw him this way! The mortal with the wok," echoed a hushed, eager tone.

Another replied, "Zhao Da, we shouldn't waste time on him. We should go for the Lotus."

Li Fan's stomach dropped. It was Zhao Da and one of his fellow sect members, voices carrying down the mountain wall. Apparently, Zhao wasn't content to wait until after the trial to settle scores. Li Fan held his breath, pressing flat to the stone. If Zhao's cronies were above, they might try to drop more boulders on him or find a way to corner him.

He needed to move, and fast. He spotted a crevice in the rock face just ahead—perhaps a small cave or indent he could hide in. As quietly as possible, Li Fan sidled along the ledge toward it. Meanwhile, pebbles rained down, and Zhao's frustrated voice echoed, "Where is that slippery kitchen rat?!"

Just as Li Fan reached the crevice, a shadow fell from above—literally a shadow, detached from any object, in the shape of a net. One of Zhao's allies was a shadow arts cultivator, and they had cast a snare that moved independently. The dark net whooshed down. Li Fan barely rolled into the crevice in time, feeling the air whoosh as the shadowy trap slapped the ground where he'd stood.

Inside the crevice, which fortunately opened into a small cave, Li Fan took a moment to calm his racing heart. He could hear Zhao and his friend climbing down to investigate. This cave might be a dead end; he needed an escape or a plan.

The cave was damp and surprisingly homey, lit by some glowing mushrooms. And to his surprise, deeper in sat a small wooden table and a single chair. On the table lay a teapot and a book. Who on earth—?

A raspy yet oddly familiar voice came from the shadows of the cave: "DoorDash delivery? Took you long enough!"

Li Fan nearly jumped out of his skin. From behind the table emerged none other than the senile janitor, Mo, wringing water out of a mop. Li Fan's jaw dropped. "Y-you?! Senior, what are you doing in here?!" he blurted, keeping his voice low.

The janitor tutted. "Taking my tea break, obviously." He gestured at the teapot. "This used to be a lovely little tea cave before those hooligans started tossing boulders around. Nearly spilled my Oolong, they did." He squinted at Li Fan. "You weren't followed, were you? Ah, of course you were. Youngsters these days, no respect, trying to kill a man during tea."

Li Fan was flabbergasted by the janitor's nonchalance. "Sir, the trial—this cave—how did you even get here?!" he whispered hurriedly. Outside, voices grew louder as Zhao's search drew near.

The janitor simply smiled benignly. "I took a shortcut. Maintenance tunnels in the trial grounds, you know. Gotta keep the place tidy. Even mystical mountains accumulate dust." He pointed to a side passage that Li Fan hadn't noticed, cleverly hidden behind a curtain of lichen. "Leads all over. Very convenient for old folks like me who prefer not to climb."

Li Fan had so many questions but no time. "Senior, two cultivators are after me. They're dangerous—"

"Say no more." The old man waved a hand. "I know the type. I'll handle them. You, boy, take the tunnel on the right. It'll lead you further up the mountain, bypassing these buffoons."

Li Fan hesitated. "I can't just leave you—"

The janitor chuckled, a sound like stones grinding pleasantly. "Oh, don't worry about me. I might be senile, but I've got a few tricks. Off you go now. And here—" He grabbed something from the table and tossed it to Li Fan. It was a half-full teacup.

Li Fan caught it reflexively. "Uh, thanks?"

"Ginseng-oolong blend. Good for stamina," the janitor winked. "Now shoo! Before they sniff you out."

Grateful and perplexed, Li Fan bowed quickly. "Thank you, Senior. I owe you one." He then hurried into the hidden tunnel, careful not to spill the tea. As he slunk away, he heard the janitor's voice echoing out into the main cave, loud and crotchety:

"Who's making all that racket? Can't a man enjoy his tea in peace?!"

Zhao Da's voice answered, irritated, "Old man, have you seen a mortal come through here? Small, smells like… garlic and pepper?"

The janitor replied, "Only thing I smell is your bad attitude! And maybe some burnt ego. Begone, I'm busy!"

Li Fan suppressed a snort. Even as he hurried through the semi-dark tunnel, he could imagine Zhao's outrage at being spoken to so. A smile tugged at Li Fan's lips. The janitor had unwittingly or perhaps wittingly, saved him. What an odd fellow...

The secret passage ascended gently, and true to the janitor's word, Li Fan soon emerged further up the mountain, through a concealed exit behind a waterfall. He was drenched in spray as he carefully stepped out. But he had shaken off Zhao for now.

He sipped the ginseng-oolong tea the janitor gave him. It was surprisingly fragrant and invigorating—he felt energy returning to his tired limbs almost instantly. There was more to that old man than met the eye, clearly. Who brings a hot fresh pot of tea into a deadly trial ground? And how did he keep finding Li Fan to "help" (and occasionally harass) him?

Those questions would have to wait. The day was waning, and Li Fan needed shelter for the night and a plan. The mountain peak was still far above, hidden in swirling clouds. He trudged onward, keeping an eye out for any cave or tree hollow large enough to camp in.

As dusk fell, Li Fan found a relatively safe nook—a small alcove under an overhanging rock, sheltered from wind. He started a modest fire with dried branches and pulled out another dumpling for dinner. It was a bit squished from all the action, but still edible. As he ate, he reflected on the day's madness: facing a soup boar with spices, surviving a slap duel, nearly being squashed by vengeful cultivators, and repeatedly crossing paths with a weird janitor who showed up like a guardian troll under a bridge (or under a mountain, in this case).

Despite everything, Li Fan felt a spark of optimism. He was still here. He'd used his wits and cooking to solve problems so far. Maybe, just maybe, he could last the remaining days.

He thought of Yuechan. Was she watching any of this? Perhaps there was an observation mirror or something for officials and guides. If she saw the boar incident, she'd probably laugh. He smiled at the thought of her laughing; it gave him a warm feeling that rivaled the tea's effect.

Suddenly, the silence of the evening was broken by a distant cacophony. It sounded like... bells? No, more like gongs clanging arrhythmically, accompanied by yells. Li Fan crept out to peek.

Down the slope, in a valley glen, he could make out flickers of light. It looked like several trial participants had converged and were currently in some kind of chaotic free-for-all. Occasionally, a fiery explosion lit up the scene, followed by someone's panicked scream or an enthusiastic war cry. The absurd part was hearing snippets of dialogue echo up the mountain:

"Give me that fruit, you cheeky bugger!"

"Watch where you're swinging that thing—Oof!"

Clang

One voice that sounded oddly like a merchant hawking wares shouted, "I have the flag! Wait, wrong game—aaaah!"

Li Fan shook his head. It seemed a group had found some treasure or target and were now brawling. Maybe one of the mini challenges or reward caches within the trial. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn't in that melee; he'd likely be collateral damage. Better to avoid the fray whenever possible.

He scooted back into his alcove and banked his fire to avoid attracting attention. As he lay down, using his folded apron as a pillow, Li Fan gazed up at the tiny sliver of sky visible through the leaves and rock. Stars in the Heavenly Realm twinkled playfully, as if aware of the antics below.

Tomorrow would bring new trials, no doubt. Perhaps traps, puzzles, or more unfriendly faces (and hopefully some friendly ones too). Clutching his wok close like a teddy bear, Li Fan closed his eyes. His last waking thought was a half-formed prayer: Dear heavens, please don't let me get eaten by something ridiculous in the night. And if possible, let tomorrow's menu be less... exciting.

In the darkness, the forest answered with the soothing sound of crickets—or rather, cricket demons chirping baritone harmonies. One particularly deep chirp almost sounded like laughter. And somewhere further up the mountain, an old janitor leaned on his broom, keeping a quiet watch, a knowing smile on his face as if he had front-row seats to a particularly amusing play.