Dueling Fate

"Qi is the natural energy of creation. Cultivation is the act of rebellion. It is in the intersection of these two facts that you will live your lives as cultivators." Senior Disciple Tao Shirong's voice is pleasant, even as he speaks to a disciple standing behind him, "Breathe a touch deeper, Qian Xia, and try to exhale slightly slower."

The sturdy-framed girl in rough-spun clothing colors slightly but makes the correction, and Shirong nods, sending the small ornaments in his hair jingling. He moves in a slow circle, eyes spying on the aspirants as they cycle. On his shoulder, a small scarab beetle rests, occasionally fluttering its wings to expose membranes that glimmer in a sea of colors.

As the class began, Senior Tao Shirong has brought you to a large gazebo set in the center of a placid pond, reachable by four bridges aligned with the cardinal directions. Inside, there are comfortable mats for each aspirant to sit, arranged in a circle around their senior.

"Why is cultivation rebellion?" A male aspirant with longer hair speaks up.

His gaze switches to the aspirant. "An interesting question. The Annals of Time, written by Li Lifen, say that when they made the world, the gods kept everything in balance. In this way, each being, each river, each mountain, lived in perfect harmony with itself and with all else. In such a way, the mortal man was content to be what he was, no more and no less. However, the poison of desire seeped into the world, disrupting the balance, and from then on, all else was chaos."

"Others suggest other theories. Han Xinque, in her Classic of Questions and Answers, lays the fault at the feet of the gods. She states that they abandoned their responsibilities in managing the world to pursue pleasures, and in their abandonment, they introduced discord into the flow of qi, a discord that has never been fully healed."

A girl with hair, spun in the colors of the rainbow speaks up, brow furrowed. "Aren't the demons the source of evil? I thought they would have taken over the continent if they hadn't been stopped. And they killed people last night!"

Senior Tao adopts a more serious pose. "Demons are, by our understanding, evil beings. They are, in general, cruel, greedy and selfish. They delight in the infliction of pain and suffering. Many of your parents may have fought in the war against the Black Demon King. But - and this is my belief, and others disagree - they are as much a part of the natural order of things as you and I."

"Then why do the cultivators fight them?" The girl asked again.

Senior Shirong flicks his hand, and the beetle on his shoulder rises up, a beam of light erupting from its midsection, that then spins into three glowing discs. The first one is illuminated momentarily in gold as Senior Tao points to it. "The gods inhabit the Heavens, a place of wonder and beauty and cosmic power." Below, the next disc is enlarged and shines a healthy green. "The lands of Creation. The earth, the seas, the peoples and beasts, we live here, until it is our time to pass." He flicks his hand a final time, and the third circle glows an angry red. "Finally, the Hells. It is here the demons reside - a set of harsh realms, meant for the imprisonment and redemption of evil souls, and where the honored ancestors reside until it is time for them to be reborn."

He taps the third circle. "Without the Underworld, the world would not function. Where we cultivators of the Emerald Kindom must take action is when the demons find their way into our world - through any number of cracks or passages."

"But why would they do that? Why can't they just stay where they are, and not bother us?"

"Because it is in their nature to strive, to rise." Senior Tao waves his hand and the beetle returns to his shoulder. "It is in the nature of all life, from the smallest flower to the greatest dragon, to strive to improve their natural lot in life. They will defend what's theirs, and take what they can, remake the world according to their ideals. And woe betide those who stand in their way."

The reverberations of that statement ripple throughout the class, drawing even the most disciplined of the aspirants out of their breathing patterns. The silence threatens to draw out to an uncomfortable length, before a few slow claps of applause fill the chamber.

"Well spoken, Shirong of the Swarm." A figure stands in the entrance, one who was not there a moment ago. He is clad in black and silver, a mask of cracked bone. Goosebumps ripple up your arm, your cycling pattern a distant memory, even before you recognize the symbol of Cao Feng's Empire on his chest.

Roll - Insight 3 + Lore 0 (History 0) = 3d10
7, 10, 10 = 5 Successes!

Senior Shirong immediately drops into a kneeling posture, one hand splayed out on the ground before him, his eyes boring straight into the wooden boards of the gazebo. "My thanks to the Imperial Observer. I am… honored by his words."

You follow suit, though your move is into a complete kowtow, hands and head to the floor. Other aspirants follow suit, while some seem to be too confused to act. A deep bow before the Ghost allows you to rise after an agonising few seconds. You have never seen one of the Silver Ghosts, but you recognize the stories. The masked men and women rank among Cao Feng's most dangerous and powerful servants. Police, enforcers, inquisitors. Committers of atrocities, suppressors of rebellions. Deadly warriors, infused with powers rumored to come from the harvesting of lesser cultivators. Some say they cannot die.

Others that they are already dead.

You remember what Senior Shirong had been saying moments prior, about the nature of life, to strive, to reach new heights. How an enforcer from the Empire might take such a statement.

You could be closer to death in this moment than you have been in your entire life.

The bruises on your chest from last night are but a mere echo of sensation in the face of this threat.

"An interesting crop this time, Shirong," the Ghost drawls as he wipes his boots, dirt and grime sliding off his shoes and onto an empty mat.

"We have great hopes, of course, as we do with all our initiates." Senior Tao's replies, his voice reflecting a genial pleasantry, nothing more. "How may I assist the Imperial Observer?"

"No assistance necessary, Shirong of the Swarm. As you said, I am an observer. Here to observe your sect. We are concerned that you have yet to fully recover from your… troubles after the war. It seemed a fine time to admire the new generation, to observe promising prospects. Though of course they are not admitted yet."

"No." Tao almost croaks. "Though I am confident that they will prove themselves in time."

"Yes…" the Ghost says, his voice trailing off as you feel his gaze sweep over the room. More than just eyes, a cold, dark touch wrapping itself around your spirit like icy water.

His next words address the entirety of the room. "For those who are unaware… Or unmotivated shall we say. The treaty between the Empire and the Golden Reeds states that if an aspirant is not accepted by a sect, the Empire has reserved the right of conscription into our forces."

Conscription. No one knew exactly why Cao Feng tended to prefer cultivators of lesser talent from his subject kingdoms. Some said that the Empire commanded such resources in pills and sites of power that they could turn a mouse into a titan, and that such actions commanded loyalty. Others said the lesser cultivators were used to fuel corrupt cultivation practices - their lives and qi ripped out for greater power. It was how the legends of the Ghosts had been built over time, whispers in the corner of taverns that had become taken for unquestioned truth.

"A right that has not been exercised in 20 years." Senior Tao states.

"The resistance in the Southeast is fierce," The Ghost's voice cuts through to the bone. "It could be but a matter of time before new… bodies are needed."

A second passes, but his statement hangs in the air for what feels like far longer.

"Teach well, Shirong." He says and the Ghost's spirit relaxes, the icy cloak lifting and the room feels warmer than it did before.

He begins to walk away, boots thudding against the wooden boards before they pause, and turn, his time coming closer. Just as the class had been about to breathe a collective sigh of relief. "I almost forgot," he says, sticking his head through the entrance. "I understand that one of the class here fought the demon that broke through your defenses last night."

"There is such a student here." Senior Tao states, his gaze turning to you as you feel sweat drip down your back.

"Such bravery is to be rewarded. Rise and face me."

You have no choice. You stand, bringing yourself up to your full height. You walk forward on unsteady legs until the Ghost in front of you. Green eyes boring through the holes in his mask. You can smell incense - funerary herbs. The scent of the dead.

As you meet his gaze, an overwhelming pulse of his presence spears through your spirit. The icy chill earlier nothing compared to the torrent that runs through you. You fight to remain on your feet even if your soul screams as if it's being squashed flat, spread into fragments, rearranged, and put back together, over the course of seconds.

Whatever he finds, it must pass muster. You cannot see his expression, but you get the impression of a cold smile. "This is a cultivation class, yes? I assume Shirong has been teaching you the sect's style." His voice drops into a different rhythm, as though he is reading from a textbook. "The Golden Reeds teaches the Bottomless Depths breathing style. It is a boon for any cultivator, providing a greater qi reserve to power any technique you may wish, as well as a minor affinity for water techniques." You do not see him move, but the Ghost suddenly feels much closer. "Tell me, aspirant. Would you like a real breathing style? Say the word, and I will offer you an Imperial technique."

The room is deathly quiet.

You do not know exactly what the Ghost is offering you, but it is no doubt rare and potent. However, it is offered by a Ghost, one of the Empire's most dangerous and infamous servants. You can scarcely think through the implications. Surely, no one would blame you for accepting power, especially with the threat that has just been levied on you. Then again, how could they not? Is the good opinion of those in this room worth turning down something that might ease your path to greatness? Will the Ghost be offended by you turning down his gift? You have no way to know.

What do you say?

[] Accept the Ghost's offer. It is the nature of a cultivator to strive to improve themselves, and to turn this down would be foolish.

[] Turn down the offer. The Bottomless Depths sounds more than useful enough for your purposes, and you have no wish for power from this creature.