Chapter 31: A Feint Within a Feint

The competition grounds weren't actually that large, but because they connected to a desert canyon, the terrain was many times more complex.

The radar being shut off forced Baimu to rely on a compass to locate enemies.

His current position was still very dangerous—before the map closed, it had shown a flashing red dot moving toward him.

If nothing unexpected happened, that person was probably coming for him.

Ken?

Hopefully not.

"You are prohibited from continuing forward. Please change direction."

Suddenly, the aerial Rotom descended, providing Baimu with a piece of intel.

There was actually a teammate in this direction, and they shouldn't be far.

Otherwise it wouldn't have forbidden him from continuing.

Would the red-dot target run into the teammate? Hopefully that teammate's strength was enough to handle it—this competition hadn't even gotten its support systems right.

Once you were in trouble, you could only rely on the SOS function on your wristband to call for rescue; if you didn't call, no one would come, and the follow-shot aerial Rotom would fly off the moment it saw a contestant lose, without caring whether they lived or died.

People outside the field couldn't intervene inside.

Combined with the rule disallowing surrender, one could say the organizers were worse than beasts.

Baimu exchanged a glance with the alert Aron and decided to head over to the spot where a battle had just taken place.

If the teammate had won, the worst that could happen was being stopped from advancing and having to switch direction; if the opponent had won, he'd kick them while they were down based on their condition.

Of course.

He had to watch out for other enemies on the road who might have been drawn over as well.

"Let's go."

He called out softly and set off in the direction he remembered.

Viewed from above, this desert canyon was grand and beautiful enough—jagged giant rocks stood like ancient sentinels, weathered by wind and sand, guarding the desolate land.

Unfortunately for Baimu, he preferred green, which represented vitality and life, so every time he saw such barren scenery, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic for the great rivers and mountains of his past life.

"Do you like sand? Or rocks, iron chunks?"

Baimu turned and asked Aron, his low voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the aerial Rotom.

But the latter clearly heard, lowered its head to think for a few seconds, looked around, then trotted off as if it had spotted something.

His gaze followed Aron's movement, and he quickly spotted its target—

A clump of yellowish-gray weeds, whether wilted or naturally that way.

"Goo!"

Aron looked at Baimu with shining eyes, like a dog seeing its favorite toy.

If it had a tail, it would definitely be wagging hard.

"You like grass? Plants?"

Baimu stared at it in surprise—as a Rock- and Steel-type Pokémon, the legendary industrial pest, it didn't like delicious iron ore, but liked worthless weeds.

Hobbies, then?

Seeing Aron nod vigorously, he began wondering whether to bring a whole pot of grass for Aron to tend, or would flowers do too?

He continued forward.

To conserve stamina, he certainly wasn't going to climb any mountains; if he hit a dead end, he'd find a way around.

Finally.

Just as Baimu was about to round a certain bend, the sound of wind rushed into his ears, mixed with faint cries for help; when he stopped and pricked up his ears, the cries grew louder and more wretched.

So close…

Not a teammate?

He glanced at the aerial Rotom, saw no reaction from it, then quietly leaned forward and began observing carefully.

He saw, about two hundred meters away on a canyon walkway where the breeze kicked up sand and dust, atop a bamboo-shoot-shaped giant rock thrusting straight into the sky, a boy with not a stitch of clothing clinging tightly to the peak, wailing nonstop.

"Did he lose?"

Baimu frowned—this person was undoubtedly one of his fourteen teammates; though they weren't close, it was shocking to see them in such a miserable state.

Stripped of his clothes, his leg was probably injured too—the ankle was swollen like a ball, and he was stuck up there, unable to reach his wristband to call for support.

More importantly, where was the Houndoom-team member who had taken him down?

He looked at the aerial Rotom again; while it hadn't flown off, the whirring of its four small propellers seemed quite clear to him, and even with the wind masking it, the enemy might still hear.

Worried he might already be exposed, he pointed at the ground for Aron.

Aron understood and quickly burrowed underground to lie in wait.

Then.

Baimu held a Smoke Ball in his left hand, drew a Poké Ball with his right, and held his breath to watch his surroundings.

If the enemy doesn't move, I don't move.

There were only ten minutes until the next radar activation; by then, whether or not that person had spotted him, there would be a conclusion.

Of course, it couldn't be ruled out that the other side was also waiting.

As he thought this, new sounds came from the teammate's direction—the scraping, clopping sound of hooves hitting the ground.

Baimu leaned out again and saw that beneath the bamboo-shoot rock, a Houndoom-team member sitting atop a Arcanine had appeared at some unknown moment.

The rolling dust kicked up on the way in showed they'd only just arrived a second or two ago, and the other follow-shot aerial Rotom flew behind them, circling around like a fly.

The opponent looked up, circled the giant rock twice, then glanced around, causing Baimu to immediately duck back, his heart pounding like gongs and drums.

But unexpectedly, the opponent didn't spot him, nor hear the propeller noise of his aerial Rotom; they simply dismounted and said: "Arcanine, find a way to get him down."

Hmm?

What does that mean?

Didn't he take out his teammate? Or did he give up since he couldn't lure anything in?

Regardless.

This guy showing himself means there are no other Houndoom squad members lying in ambush nearby — all that effort spent outsmarting thin air.

Baimu lay prone and tapped the ground lightly. Seeing Roggenrola peek out from the hole, he handed it the Smoke Ball and lowered his voice:

"Dig a bit deeper, sneak over quietly, and stay a fair distance away so you won't be spotted. When I call for the battle, bite the ring off the top of this thing and charge right up to that person. When you're in position, push the dirt up a little."

"Gug."

Roggenrola nodded to show it understood, then shrank back and began to move.

Hope it goes smoothly.

Baimu set down his backpack to lighten his load and quietly observed from afar. He saw the Arcanine looking back and forth, seemingly searching for a foothold and a way to bring the unclothed person down.

No flying Pokémon?

That was definitely good news for him.

After all, a Smoke Ball like this can be dealt with in a few flaps by a bird-type Pokémon. Its main function is to confuse the opponent, throw them into a panic, and briefly interfere with the Arcanine's sense of smell.

Nearly two hundred meters.

If not for the Rotom Drone overhead, Baimu would definitely have tried to close that distance.

After all, even though humans in the Pokémon world have extraordinary physiques — a little serious training and anyone can be a level-one sprinter, and the exceptional ones can surpass Bolt with ease — two hundred meters is just too far.

Gotta find a good opportunity…

Just as he was observing, a clump of dirt suddenly bulged up at the Houndoom squad member's feet.

Holy crap!

Why is it so close! The position wasn't controlled well!

Baimu nearly jumped and threw a Poké Ball in fright, but luckily the other party was paying more attention to the Team Magma member on the boulder and didn't notice Roggenrola.

At this moment.

The wind suddenly picked up, sand and stones flying, obscuring vision.

The opportunity came with it.