Hmmph... this junior is a good seed [Cultivation Management Quest]

Voting is open
New Good Seed and Omake Rule Updates
Good Seed and Omake Spreadsheet Rules:

Firstly, if you have questions about Good Seeds and the like please read here. If that doesn't answer your question please ping me in thread, or on Discord.

If you write a new Good Seed, or write an omake, please update the spreadsheet if you have access.

If you do not have access, please ping a collaborator (Swordomatic, Alectai, Quest, TehChron, Insane-Not-Crazy, Humbaba, ReaderOfFate, Kaboomatic, no., BungieONI) letting them know what you want and they will update the spreadsheet here. To gain access, you will need a gmail account of some kind. Throwaway emails are fine (I'm using one for the spreadsheet), but to gain access it's as simple as sending me either your email via PM, via DM in Discord, or just in Discord's #spreadsheet-requests channel.

This is mandatory. If a Good Seed does not record their omake by pinging collabs (or just requesting access and editing things themselves - this is the preferred option), I won't give out awards. If a new Good Seed is not recorded here, they won't advance. By doing this it makes the whole thing manageable for me - it's gotten pretty unwieldy!

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Omake Writer Instructions:

There are four fields you need to fill out.

Omake Link, which is just a link to your first omake for the turn. This makes it easier for me to read them as I do the update - without this it's tough to know off the bat which omake were written this turn, and to properly

Requested Bonus, which is your requested bonus for your omake. You can leave it up to me if you like. You can see more info in the Good Seed infopost here.

Cultivation Aims. For those following unorthodox paths - higher than 9th Heavenstage or later than 7th Dao Pillar paths. Please put in what you are aiming for before you break through. I have left it as 'default'. If you do not edit it, I'll go with that.

Turn Notes - Do you want to do something specific? Enter a Secret Realm? Help the Clan out in some way? If you have something specific you want to accomplish on this turn, put it in turn notes so I can adjust your Fate around it.

All other fields are for QM use to record character information to properly run the flow of the game.
 
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Magnus had managed to get legally married without ever sighting the woman in question, though such forcible legal marriages were in fact legitimate in the part of the Twinbone City he had gone to, the local Elder had it revoked after a few days tied up in a Yuan court.

So Magnus ended up in a version of a Las Vegas wedding, and got divorced right after. Did Magnus drink too much of his own product again?

There, the betrayal occurred. The Yuan were expecting diplomats, but the Clan had sent the next thing to assassins.
I think you mean next best thing to assassins
 
and Cerina's tremendous victory in three staring contests - almost killing a man with the power of her Eye before she realised it was a very clumsy way of expressing romantic interest.
The hapless man: Surely I can impress her!
Cerina and the man: *staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare*
The hapless man: doki doki Oh Heavens, why does my heart beat so? 😍
The hapless man, a moment later: glrk
 
Xiao Yingzi 52 [Turn 12] [A Random Encounter]
Xiao Yingzi 52
[Turn 12]
[A Random encounter]

Little Shadow, Little Shadow
Please tell us of the day
You befriended the great eagle
Whose wind whisks you away?

The Great Eagle, that takes me back
A short experience, but not one to forget
Let's start at the beginning
With the little chick that I'd just met

Near as big as me, this baby chick
Snuck upon me while I sleeping
So warm and fluffy, I didn't even feel it
Until I finally woke up to its weeping

So here I was, alone in my desert camp
With my arrays all active and working
And then this large baby bird came
Bypassed them all while fearfully chirping

Waking up to this big scared ball of fluff
It was this me who suffered a heart attack
I summoned my spear, charging a killing bolt
But thankfully, all I did was push it back

With some distance between us, I finally saw
The terrified look in its dinner plate eyes
Gears began to turn, my mind began to think
Turning over words like wheres, whats and whys

It was obvious where I was
Right there in my warded tent
With a creature that had borne my strength
I had to sit and wonder what that meant

I had no idea what the creature was
Save that it seemed young and shaken
Perhaps it was all a way to trick me
But I did not think that I was mistaken

So where was easy and what was done
Then 'Why' remained the final question
Looking at the shivering little creature
I did not think it carried any ill intention

Instead it was child, however strong
It was lost and alone, only seeking someone
And if the child was seeking its mother
Perhaps the mother was also seeking her son?

| | | | | | | | | |

I am a creature of the Desert Deep
An Insomniac Predator of the Night
As I stalk the sands, looking for prey
All fear and flee, away from my sight

But the night is mine to walk
Behold, behold, my illustrious stride
For I will always hunt you down
However you run and wherever you hide

For I am the terrible Yawning Cat
The Insomniac Predator of the Desert Deep
Fear my somniferous snarl, my hypnotic eyes
That will bind you forever in eternal sleep

Then, bound in an endless nightmare
I will sit and listen to your screams
I will smell the terror in your mind
And I will gladly sup from your dreams

But tonight I seek a special prey
A bird that is greater than even I
Yet it is a child, not yet fully grown
And so I will gladly suck it bone-dry

It's mind is strong yet so flexible
Such delectable nightmares to feast
Just what I need to ascend
Beyond the limits of a beast!

| | | | | | | | | |

I sensed it first, before I saw it
The prowling presence of the beast
It stood in the same realm as I
But at the apex of it, not the least

The chick before me sensed it too
Staring in the distance with alarmed eyes
It fluffed its feathers to make itself bigger
And its aura also grew up to a terrifying size

I couldn't tell how strong it truly was
Only that compared to the beast, it was more
It was an aura of absolute intimidation
That was at least in the realms of Core

Yet the chick was but a simple child
And its will lacked genuine killing intent
The predator did pause when it sensed that
But then the chick collapsed, utterly spent

I drew my spear and stood up to fight
I sensed the beast and turned in its direction
In the darkness, I saw only two glowing eyes
And I was frozen, trapped in its perception

And then it smiled, showing sharpened teeth
And its mouth opened, widening into a yawn
My hands went to my face as I mimicked it
Sleep came to me, a darkness with no dawn

My spear on the ground, I pulled myself up
With desperate strength, to the bronze pole I clung
My eyes left its own, a sliver of will returned
Enough to break the spell, by biting my tongue

| | | | | | | | | |

I watched as my spell was broken
And the human pulled the bird away
My prey fled and I slowly followed
They'd still never see the light of day

As they ran away, burning precious qi
My own legs took on a lopping stride
Easy and efficient, I could run the night
Yet each step was a whole li wide

In the last moment, she drew her spear
I came to a halt and then I went around
But it wasn't me she was after
Lightning crackling, she struck the ground

The sand surged from beneath us all
And for a moment I could not see
Then when it settled, the girl was gone
But the bird was right in front of me

Carefully I walked, wary of a trap
Yet I did not see nor hear nor sense
So at the wailing chick I eagerly leapt
And was struck by an invisible defense

Like thunder, there was a killing intent
Then like lightning, it struck my head
Instinctively, I batted it aside
Sending it into the earth instead

I leapt at this invisible girl
I rended at the empty air
She spoke a word in retaliation
And my mind filled with despair

| | | | | | | | | |

I am the Great Eagle
Called Queen under the Sun
Even when the night comes
I still sleep as well as one

Perhaps that was the reason why
My child could sneak outside the nest
And only hours later would I notice
Roused from my death-like rest

I leapt from my mountain home
As my heart beat with worry
I flew forth even in the night
I cared not for danger in my hurry

Yet despite my unmatched eyes
And the blinding light of the moon
I found nothing in hill and valleys
I searched further out, even in the dunes

It was over the organ strewn desert
I heard my child's soul-shaking cry
With rage and worry in my heart
I dove down from the sky

My eyes found a furious scene
My child calling in distress
A human brandishing a spear
And a dead cat lying in a mess

I crowed out with my hunting cry
I unleashed my aura and my will
Looking down at the only living threat
My claws extended outwards to kill

| | | | | | | | | |


My darkest moment, with one recourse
I had to release my Note Of Despair
Though the child seemed important
Compared to my own life, I did not care

The Note rang like a bomb in air
The Yawning Cat fell the death of sleep
I turned to the chick, expecting a corpse
Instead, this child only began to weep

I stared in shock to see it survive
I had to consider what that meant
Yet my musings ceased to matter
For the air filled with killing intent

Death came for me on golden wings
I saw the vision of sharp claws ripping
Immediately I activated my treasure
Like a ghost I was, past claws slipping

The earth accepted my intangible form
Yet the my fear of death did not cease
The ground shattered, my form dispersed
Despite my efforts, I almost did decease

The Ring of Death on strewn finger burnt
Then it began to pull me back together
I reformed under a nascent eagle's gaze
Death wreathed in golden feathers

Yet, it's claws did not close in gripping
Instead it surveyed me with a look so freakish
Only when I saw the chick stand between us
I realized this majestic eagle looked… sheepish

| | | | | | | | | |


I am the Great Eagle
Called Queen under the Sun
Yet now I began to hesitate
Wondering what I'd really done

My child stood against me
Protecting what made her cry
As I saw the corpse of the cat
I began to realize why

As looked into the wary eyes
Of the human I had almost killed
I wondered if she'd risked her life
She could have run if she so willed

But looking into her heart I knew
I could tell in the end she'd risked him
Still, my son lived and he seemed attached
I couldn't just rip her limb from limb

In the end, I pulled out a golden feather
Imbued it with a sliver of my breath
A treasure to replace a treasure lost
Something save her just before death

As she grasped the Nascent Eagle's Breath
Contained in my glorious golden feather
For one single time it would save her life
With wind, draw her back from the nether

A nod, telling me that she understood
That between us, no karma remained
I gripped my wailing child and flew right home
This whole adventure had me drained

| | | | | | | | | |

I watched the eagle fly away
And I held aloft my glittering prize
Never again, I resolved to myself
As I watched the pair in the skies

Nascent beasts are rarely befriended
I could have quite easily died
All I got was equal to what I lost
At best, my treasures were diversified

Know the risk you face with opportunity
There is as much loss as there is gain
And sometimes you neither win or lose
Your prize is only equal to the pain

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Life Saving Treasure: Great Eagle's Breath: (Just fluff for an LST)

Contains powerful Wind Qi held together by a strand of nascent will. When its owner faces a near-death situation, the Wind is released to whisk them away to another location. The wind has a powerful aura of life, capable of healing even crippling wounds. If combined with the intangibility granted by her other Life Saving Treasure, The Ring of The Dead, it even allows her to escape underground locations and powerful barriers as the wind carries her through obstructions in speeds beyond even most nascent souls.
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and the fact that both Zeno Angelus and Konstantinos Papadopoulos made up the less dangerous part of this contingent was a testament to how powerful the group truly was.

eno, on the other hand, humiliated a Yuan Core Elder in a very public debate around an array, causing him to be forcibly retrieved by the others, and stashed away out of sight. An excuse to leave an Expert out of Yuan sight was appreciated, and fed into their plan.
This is definitely something Zeno would do. Shoddy work should not be suffered.

There, the betrayal occurred. The Yuan were expecting diplomats, but the Clan had sent the next thing to assassins.
With the Golden Devil platoon, they might just envision Old Gold as the Assassin archetype.

Magnus approached the end, and immediately the Clan sprang into action. Magnus set off poison-traps there, clouds of intoxicating death that could even weaken a Core, making it impossible for them to pass in the short term. To guard the exit stood Konstantinos and Zeno both, using a set of artifacts and arrays they had prepared to misdirect, even as the clouds of poison spread. False exits appeared everywhere, leading the eight Experts into various tunnels.

Together, Konstantinos and Magnus fought desperately and rapidly to implant parasites one by one, luring Experts into a false exit as the Yuan sought to escape and bring back word of the Clan's perfidy. Each of the Experts fought with a different weapon - a spear, a sword, a spiked shield, a bow, a staff, a ribbon, a fan, and lastly was one who fought with a semi-sentient furious cow skull.
Ok, this part I don't get. First Konstantinos and Zeno guard the entrance, then Konstantinos suddenly helps with implanting parasites?

All in all, I love this style of update! :D
 
Yeah this mission style and the success was great^^.

Meanwhile the Builder would hate doing this mission. He not that good at fighting (for a good seed), his preparations takes time, his main antagonist is the worm that builds that can also do this parasite trick just as horror weapons instead of good infiltration minions.

So I hope that he as a miner worked better ^^. He has experience after all^^.

And I glad his 'great master' (a QC bull) is too weak. Because attacking him with a angry skull of a bull, would funny enough,hurt him since he would frozen (vs a QC lvl fighter not the FE/core here. That would kill him dead).

Still IC. Having in their (wrong) point of view someone trying to steal the Angelus bloodline AND 'stealing' one of Abel children?

Being angry would not be enough to describe how pissed they would be.

Anyway. Both them (and I) loved how essential for this task were the Angelus Scions.

If someone inform them later on when this get declassified enough. They would be really happy about that part.
 
Damocles 3 - Rejection of Self
??? Damocles 3 - Rejection of Self
Cultivation was a path to many things - strength, wealth, influence, immortality - all forms of power that were widely available for the eager adept to grasp, if they possessed the will for it. One thing it never had, would, or could offer, however, was happiness. Those who were content with their lives would never strive to go through the pain that all such paths necessitated; no hand would ever reach towards heaven if it were not first burned from below. To walk along the endless road of cultivation was to internalize pain as part of one's self, and to expel any hint of doubt or hesitancy.

A thin, pale figure knelt amidst a puddle of black bile and gunk, the oily viscosity of the fluid contrasting greatly with the gleaming bronze plate covering every wall of the small meditation chamber it knelt in. The metal gleamed with a pitiless inner light, reflecting off of every other surface in a manner that did not blind, but served instead to accentuate the onlooker's negative features - in this case, the sallow, sunken cheeks, gangly limbs, and extensive network of burn scars, which seemed to twist and writhe like horrid worms in the light. Dark eyes met their reflected gaze for a moment, before disgust involuntarily welled up in them and the cultivator lurched forward once more, a stream of thin black vomit erupting out over his knees.

"Again, Aspirant Damocles," a harsh voice of brass rang out, seemingly omnipresent within the confined space. "To pass the stage of Impurity Expulsion in the specified timeframe, full awareness of your physiology's mortal flaws must be attained. You cannot shirk from the sight of your own wretchedness -"

"For one cannot know perfection without turning their gaze away from it," the burned child muttered. It was the same lecture he had received day in and day out for weeks, ever since Auspicious Nine's token of approval had granted him access to a Room of Pitiless Reflection. These chambers existed in the Dawn Fortress as training spaces for promising neophytes, or those with powerful relatives, the sliver of will infused in the alloyed metal allowing aspirants to better view their own shortcomings and bodily flaws. The process was psychologically stressful, but allowed for aspirants to advance much quicker through the early stages of Qi Condensation by informing them where best to focus their flow of qi. The only downside was that after an hour spent within, the strength of the room's effects on one's psyche started to increase exponentially, carrying with it the risk of long-term damage as the cultivator's will was assaulted by the profound inadequacy of even their positive qualities.

Damocles had made a habit of spending days at a time within his assigned chamber, expelling endless streams of impurity-laden bile but making no actual progress in his cultivation. Whatever maladies that laid dormant within his frame were unclear, for he was subject to no illnesses, and had not been crippled or even wounded during his tenure with the Golden Devils. To the best guess of the medical experts he had queried, the essence he was expelling had its origins in his troubled thoughts, rather than anything to do with the body. They could offer no real suggestions, save for ceasing the use of the Room. "I've seen this before," he had been told by a gruff physician with a balding head and thick, curled beard of green. "You spend much more time looking into those damn mirrors, you're only going to rip out your own will to move around and leave the custodians to pick up your corpse in a few days. Stick to the regular methods, son. Nothing wrong with going slowly." He had grasped Damocles firmly on the shoulder as he said this, looking into the boy's eyes with a stern, but compassionate gaze, one meant to reassure, but also command.

The boy had spent three days in the Room after that, relentlessly meeting his own gaze in the merciless bronze, before flinching away at the distorted reflection that looked back at him.

He spent long enough in the chamber that eventually even the automated sliver of will that oversaw their operation stopped speaking to him. "It is unclear what drives you to visit so often when you experience no advancement from this," it had grated in its final message. "Awareness of one's flaws is a useful tool, but spite towards oneself is not. Farewell, Aspirant D-"

Something about that parting message resonated with the boy, and he spent many days in introspection, searching within himself for what strand of meaning he had stumbled across. As he contemplated, his eyes bled steady rivulets of black blood, and the thoughts that had formerly been muddled and obscured by agitation and urgency became clearer with each passing moment, until at last he had it.

Damocles opened his eyes and beheld his reflection without flinching. It was a twisted caricature of himself, riddled with pock marks, shriveled skin, swollen joints, and withered, paper-thin skin. Worst of all, a gormless, placid smile, stretched thin across wrinkled, cracked lips. Each feature of the reflection brought out awareness of something that was wrong within his body, each fact piling up within its mind until they threatened to overwhelm his thoughts, but this time he bore it with ease. Where before he would have flinched away at the reality of his mortal self - for the mirror showed only the inevitable progression towards death a mortal experienced, no more, no less - he bore it now with unflinching ease for one simple reason - spite.

"I refuse to be limited by you," he murmured to himself, viciously rejecting all association with the wretched thing in the mirror until he could not even recognize the relation it had to him. There would be no acceptance of weakness, of degeneration into insignificance, of mortality in him any more - in that moment, he cut the space for such things out of his heart with scalpels of contempt and resolve. As he did, the pores of his skin began to shake and squirm, as though thousands of minuscule worms were undulating underneath his flesh, growing larger by the second.

Damocles breathed in knowledge, and exhaled hate, and from his wasted frame every accumulated mortal impurity was squeezed out from his body in a moment, coming out in a tide of discolored, stinking gunk that swiftly evaporated into a foul cloud, staining the bronze walls around him in a discolored, ugly patina that reflected nothing. His expelled essence ate away at the metal as it settled in, deteriorating its structure until it began to crumble away, exposing the bare stone beneath.

He did not look back as he left the Room for the final time, stride surer and steps longer than they had been before. He had seen all he would ever need to.

AN: 1,166 words. This makes for 3 omakes for each of my seeds, I figure that's alright.
 
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Abel Angelus was seeking to research the Twinbones of the ancient Clan Bull
Antonius had been the public face, seeking a 'research and diplomatic mission' to Twinbone City. Flanked by some of the Clan's most powerful Experts, Xinya had gone to no small effort to ensure that the Yuan thought they were merely seeking the secrets of their long-lost Spirit Beast which had given up the twin horns.
This might be a discrepancy @occipitallobe. First it says Abel provided the alibi for the mission from his interest in studying the Bull's twin horns.
Later in the foundation mission section, this was changed to Antonius?
 
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This might be a discrepancy @occipitallobe. First it says Abel provided the alibi for the mission from his interest in studying the Bull's twin horns.
Later in the foundation mission section, this was changed to Antonius?

This was a mistake! It was meant to be Antonius each time, but I thought it was Abel on my first pass through for some reason and forgot to change it in the Qi Condensation section. Fixing now.
 
I've finally caught up! With the main threadmarks, at least. Just 3 million words to go...

While I work out how to post my new Seed, I had a lore question. I'm not sure whether it has already been answered, but we've been repeatedly told that young, untempered cultivators can't possibly handle the agony of Nascent Soul cultivation, so how does the Corpse Devouring Fairy make sense in that context?
 
I've finally caught up! With the main threadmarks, at least. Just 3 million words to go...

While I work out how to post my new Seed, I had a lore question. I'm not sure whether it has already been answered, but we've been repeatedly told that young, untempered cultivators can't possibly handle the agony of Nascent Soul cultivation, so how does the Corpse Devouring Fairy make sense in that context?
Blood Path doesn't inherently cause suffering in their users beyond the social and cultural issues (and various heavenly curses or restrictions). They essentially externalize their suffering on to others.
 
...and this is one of their weaknesses. In generaly, blood path rises up very quickly, and without any of the tempering that standard cultivation forces on you... which make them terribly fragile to certain high-tier soul attacks.
 
...and this is one of their weaknesses. In generaly, blood path rises up very quickly, and without any of the tempering that standard cultivation forces on you... which make them terribly fragile to certain high-tier soul attacks.
I would hesitate to assume that they lack tempering entirely. They have less tempering on average, yes, but not none.

That's how they can skip tribulation, by the way.

If you eat someone of a higher great realm, you get to steal their "experience of an endured tribulation" and just jump through.

Of course, this process is severely degraded compared to the true glories of the Original Path that stole skills and knowledge and lacked energy inefficiencies, but such is the nature of the Curse upon it.

(And of course, there's the outlier examples like Old Cannibal and Altar Lord. It's really not a mistake that the most dangerous powers in the Blood Path are those who are old and have struggled to get where they are tbh.)
 
Zhong (忠)

Zhong ()


Starting Concept/Cool Thing: Due to his early life as a street rat, culminating in the attack that destroyed his home city and set him on the path to cultivation, Zhong is extremely familiar with futility and the inevitability of death, granting him an early insight into his Dao... and a very good set of legs. As a result, he approaches life with a rare sort of nihilistic positivity and an utterly calm acceptance of his ultimate mortality... and usually his impending mortality. He also enjoys gambling and carving, often spending many hours relaxing by fashioning sets of dice from wood or the bones of his enemies.

Starting turn: 14

Current Status (Turn 14):


Description: Coming soon

Image: Coming soon

Age: 16

Cultivation Stage: Qi Condensation, 1st Heavenstage

Current Goal: Qi Condensation, 13th Heavenstage

Combat Style: Running, trap setting, and persistence hunting. Go long, go fast, outlast.

Truth: Inevitable Demise

Omakes:


  1. Murderous Menagerie #001: Despair
  2. Zhong & Antonious: Fishing in the Lethe
 
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Early Nascent Souls - Unaffiliated and Apolitical
Early Unaligned Nascent Souls

So, this is the result of a contest on Discord where I got people to post potential Early Nascent Souls who were unaffiliated (and had very good reason to stay that way - these are the random Nascents who don't really interfere in testudopolitics for whatever reason), and picked a number of them to be canon.

The below are all new canon Early Nascent Souls.



Mountain Early Nascents

Dollmaster Yi

It is said that throughout the Virtuous Flipper Region, few have risen to the level of grandmastery in the Dao of Medicine. Fewer still have done so without the support of a Great Power at their back, giving them the safety and security to ply their trade without fear of being treated as a target for aspiring Blood Path masters.

Dollmaster Yi is the exception.

Once, it is said he was a man of humble means–the son of a woodcarver, who expected to pick up the father's trade, but the crossfire between Sects in a previous conflict saw his home left to ruins while he gathered materials in the wilderness. Fleeing to the mountains, he lived as a wild man for a time, his carving knife, courage, and ingenuity just enough to hold his own, as he pieced together his Dao through the scraps recovered from fallen disciples who had less fortune than himself. In this, he gained mastery of the Dao of Puppets–and in a lucky encounter he refuses to speak of–he rose to Nascent Soul.

A middle aged man, dressed in fine robes, he resides upon the lower slopes of Turtlebone Mountain–his presence accepted by the local Beasts due to an ancient pact he had become beneficiary of. There, he harvests from the mightiest trees and reagents available in the Region–for it is here at one of the greatest peaks of the Third Sea that one can breathe an spark of intellect in their creations, elevating them beyond mere tools into true cultivators. Each of these Dolls are treated as the children he could never have in his mortal life–and while only one has been able to rise as high as Core Formation, he is proud of each successful product.

It is not his children that make him a force to be reckoned with however–the nature of his understanding–to breathe life into puppets so that they can approximate men–has lent him an transcendent understanding of the human body. He alone is capable of forging prosthetics capable of fully restoring functionality to a Nascent Soul, and he guards this secret jealously–freely offering his skills to any who are willing to meet his price–a single Nascent Soul level Spirit Beast brought low, intact for harvesting. It is with these remains that he crafts his finest Dolls, the ones who can march the closest to true humanity.

Alas! While a well regarded figure, permitted his neutrality by way of his priceless skills, he is still only an Early Nascent Soul–and while content with his lot in life, it is said that in this Great Era, he has been sniffing around from time to time, searching out a successor to carry on his work. Why his 'Children' are unsuitable remains a mystery, but certain industrious Disciples have undertaken the perilous pilgrimage to his home–all have been refused for one reason or another though.

At the very least, he has had no small opportunity to ply his trade, as the chaos of the Demon Annihilating War has seen his services commissioned many a time, to allow the sides to continue waging war with wild abandon. So long as it does not spill over to his home, he is content to watch.

Name: Old Mole

Other names: Dong Yanshu of the Jingshen Clan, Bandit of the Western Desert, Hermit of the Mountain Roots

Location: Mountain

History:

Old Mole was born to the Jingshen Dong, as Dong Yanshu and spent much of his early life living in one of the many Jingshen Outer Mines. Unlike many other mines, the one where he grew up in was quite luxurious in comparison to others with an oasis supplying ambient qi, an ecology of spirit herbs all to themselves and a tribe of enslaved spirit moles doing their digging for them.

In spite of this, the Trueborn Jingshen who ran the mine wished for more wealth to aid his own cultivation, so the scion employed miners from the energetic and maneuverable youth to create new routes for the mine to expand. Dong Yanshu became one of them, and quickly distinguished himself as one of the best miners in the mine. Skilled and useful, the boy's future seemed secure.

Then everything changed when Dong Yanshu's parents were crushed before his eyes in a cave-in. The cause of this was because of the Trueborn Jingshen's lack of adherence to proper mining procedures in his haste to seek out wealth. The incident affected the young cultivator greatly and led him to eventually attempt to oust the scion from his position in leadership, in order to improve their conditions. However, this ultimately failed to happen.

The Jinghsen Elders did not care for the situation in the mines, instead seeing this only as a disagreement between a trueborn son and one of the outer tribes. Those of truer blood saw him as reaching for the place of his betters and his peers already scorned him for far outclassing them with his mining talents. In the end, when he was locked away in closed cultivation as a punishment for his crimes, none turned to aid him.

None save the spirit moles, who knew the evils of the Jingshen and shared his affinity for the earth. Imploring him to aid them in their bid for freedom and speaking to him of the wrongs done to them, the moles snuck him the spirit stones needed to improve his cultivation. Though Dong Yanshu had lost his parents and was an outcast among his own kin, it is among those moles that he once again found a family.

Dong Yanshu was finally released after a few years and though his cultivation had increased in that time, he hid it. Instead, he acted as if he had just tread water from the meager resources the Jingshen alone had provided. Acting as a skilled and respectful miner, he quickly won over his superiors who all thought that he had learnt his lesson.

Then, when none thought to watch him, he executed his plan. Breaking through to Foundation Building, he had enough power and skill to dig through the mine itself, carving a path for the moles to follow and in the dead of the night, they escaped Jingshen territory and disappeared into the desert. Now finally free and struggling with the aimlessness of that freedom, they were found by the Second Elder of the Golden Devils: Manuel Konstantinos.

Their passions and hate for the Jingshen Clan inflamed by the man's words, they agreed to provide him with information and act in his stead in Jingshen territories, in return for resources and information in turn of others who might be suffering as they did. And so, they began their rebellion against their former oppressors.

Dong Yanshu thrived in this new role, the same instinct that had allowed him such skill in mining also allowed him to evade Jingshen scouts and strike them where they were vulnerable. It was in this role, with resources provided by the golden devil clan that he was able to rise from a mere expert to an elder of core formation.

However, his newfound strength came at a steep price - a monetary one and so he had to increase his raids, take risks that wouldn't have before in order to maintain his cultivation. This was what proved his undoing. As he was turned from a nuisance to a problem, the Jingshen attention upon him increased manifold.

It all came to a head one day, during a raid that should have been fine. He succeeded in the raid as always, but when he returned to his base, he walked right into an ambush. He was barely able to escape with his life, but had to leave behind his mole-kin who had greatly grown in number and were eagerly put to work by the Jingshen once more.

Retreating to a hiding spot and recovering from his wounds, Dong Yanshu had time to consider what had happened. Had the Jingshen followed him from the raid and he had simply missed it, or had they known where he had lived all along, and he had finally stepped over the line? Yet, he trusted in his intuition and could not believe that.

Upon recovering, he sought out information on what had happened and he found something that chilled him to the bone. In the same time he had been attacked, the Jingshen had also been raided - a convoy of some strategic worth, helpful to none but the golden devils that had its guard weakened because of him. Had the golden devils had given up his location for their own agenda?

Gnawed on by this paranoia, he found himself with nowhere to turn to. Fleeing out of the desert and unable to bear the thoughts running through his mind, he disappeared into the hardy stone of the mountains. Digging deep into the mountain roots, he sought to free his mind of the earthly burdens that troubled him. In time, he settled into a sort of deep meditation - all that remained in his mind was him and the stone, and the now familiar motion that pushed back the earth and pulled him forward.

The focus he had attained grew his cultivation by leaps and bounds,as he fed upon the minute spirit stones too deep for any mountain power to seek out. His Dao was of Steadfastness, of the very idea of dedication and in the moments before his defeat, his dao heart had been shaken both by the loss of his own family and the potential betrayal of an ally. It was in these moments, he earned a new understanding of the ideal of dedication - rising to the Great Circle, until his powerful motions found stone that he could not break.

In the depths of the mountains, there was stone too strong for a Core Formation to break no matter how long he tried. In that moment, his meditation was broken and the heart demon slumbering inside of him came rushing back far stronger than ever. Like a drowning man, he rushed to the surface of the earth to seek the air above and as he resurfaced, his own core began to creak and shatter.

Heavenly lightning surged down to meet him as he rose and Dong Yanshu met his end.

But Old Mole rose stronger than ever.

No longer was he dedicated to merely the idea of dedication. No, he dedicated himself to those moles who had been his staunchest companions. With his new Dao of the Mole, he was able to dig deep into the mines of the Jingshen before they could think to respond, their defenses useless against one who was formerly their own. He rescued all of the mole-men and then once more disappeared into the mountains.

Digging deep and seeking that unbreakable rock in their depths, he dug a home for them there, that stone that was so unbreakable now being molded like clay by the young nascent. Though tracked by all the great desert powers - curious devils, hungry cannibals and furious Jingshen all - but none were able to find the nascent soul, his storied intuition greatly improved by his new dao to make it impossible to track him underneath the earth.

Seeking out the resources untouched by others to maintain his cultivation, the man disappeared completely from society, only rarely resurfacing. He is known today not through his own presence but that of the mole people that he saved, who travel the mountains as free folk and all speak with love for the Old Mole who protects them. Many hear of his underground fortress, but none to this day have been able to find it.

Dao:

Old Mole was ever a man of utter dedication and is said to pursue a peculiar Dao of Moles. In his youth, he was dedicated to his causes - justice for his parents, the protection of his mole family, his crusade against the Jingshen and even as an ally of the golden devils. His loss at the end of his known life as an elder helped disabuse him of that notion and eventually shatter his core to allow him to rise as a nascent soul. His dao as a Core Formation allowed him a minor boost to an action the longer he spent upon it and retains that ability, but now it seems to only apply to the natural advantages of a mols such as the digging the earth or sensing what is underneath it.

Secret:

Old Mole's greatest asset was always his intuition. He had a peculiar sense of where wealth and qi could be found. As a miner, this allowed him to find the places where spirit stones can be found. As a raider, this allowed him to know when he was being attacked and find metaphorical oases in the desert. As a nascent soul, it allowed him to hide from all who sought him and maintain his cultivation with a stream of minor but still useful flow of treasures.

Xi Shi - The Scavenging Shadow



Death comes easily and frequently to those who live in the Hard Shell Mountains whether they be man, beast, vegetable or stranger still. To survive - much more, to advance – having great power is best recommended, power to break your foes before you and rise up on the bloody remains of those who failed the test of the Mountains. Second best is to have the favor of the mighty, to be of service to their ends and receive the benefit of their patronage. Xi Shi is neither mighty nor in the favor of such personages but the aged wretch still makes do. If one cannot simply take as the powerful do or receive from their largesse of their tables, there are always the scraps left fallen by the wayside, and the discarded offal for those without shame or pride.

The Scavenging Shadow of the Mountain is a loose Early Nascent Soul that creeps through Mountains looking for the spoils left behind by his betters. He has been sighted all throughout the range dividing the Plains from the Desert but has most regularly being spotted on the borders of the anger zone that is Turtlebone Mountain. Bald and winged, he resembles a deformed hybrid of Man and Vulture in the brief moments that he has been recorded out of concealment.

History

Little enough is known of the man who would become the Carrion Lord of the Mountains. All that is truly recorded is that he was weak in the Mountains, a burden to feed so was cast out. Through the trials of exile, he survived not by becoming more powerful in the hunt but in developing the skill to become the most concealed prey from other hunters. By theft and scavenging, Xi Shi defied the odds to cultivate to the third great realm and there found his fate.

Secret

Beast Cores are the foundation of human cultivation in the Mountains. Cunning and strong hunters face off against the endless hordes of Spirit Beasts that dwell in the peaks and valleys to wrest from their defeated corpses the precious reagents for personal use or sale to others with the coin to purchase. However, all use of these powerful items for personal advancement suffers from waste and profligate waste at that. Whether it be the Iron Belly Technique, the Fourfold Rumination Meditation or more esoteric arts, the simple fact is that humans are never fully compatible with the strength refined into the bodies of Spirit Beasts.

It is a good thing then that Xi Shi not exactly a man, not any longer. When he was cast out from his tribe and sought to hide in the mountains, his endless search for a suitable refuge and sustenance led him to an old legacy hidden in a graveyard for massive avian beasts whose very skeletons reeked of primordial strength. In there he found the research of an ancient influence that sought to transcend human limitations by incorporating the strength of Spirit Beasts into the human form. This was a familiar enough line of inquiry all over the Nine Seas but this influence sought to breach limits that had been deemed forbidden and abandon the essence of humanity for bestial primacy to escape the strictures placed on Man. Those who know the tale of the Blasphemer Beasts know that Heaven does not brook interference in its boundaries and so was the fate of the legacy's creators and Xi Shi following after them. Xi Shi sought to become a king of the heavens drawing on the profound power latent in the remains nearby but was struck down in his moment of victory. Xi Shi did not transform into the proud lord of the skies he desired to to become but he did succeed in loosening the limits of human origin. He can draw greater strength than any human from the remains of Spirit Beasts, every part of their bodies being rendered down in his caustic gullet to support his body. A body that is at war with itself.

The beast endlessly struggles with the man and XI Shi's mind has been left scarred by the relentless conflict. He has gone feral, surviving by his ability to appear as unappetizing a meal as possible to the Spirit Beasts and his skill in concealment from human cultivators. He gluts himself on those beasts weaker than him, and stalks the kills of peers and greater hoping to steal away morsels. The man Xi Shi was ever adept at concealing his presence and the beast he sought to become suffered no trouble in consuming foes. This is his strength and weakness now, to be the most skilled carrion eater in the entire region.

Dao

The way of the Abominable Chimera is not a path that Xi Shi walks so much as he suffers through. When the Core Formation cultivator that he was broke his core following the direction of the legacy he chanced upon and incorporated the heritage of ancient beasts in his attempt at ascension, what came out the other side of the resulting tribulation was a horrific amalgam lacking the self-reflection of Man and the bloodline surety of Beast. Misbegotten instinct contests with broken intellect in a twisted frame. His is now a path meanders through madness and folly without even the benefit of their strength.

Techniques

From the Man that was, Xi Shi wields by instinct born of long practice the Shadow's Veil. This technique is part enchantment and part illusion. His presence is diminished and made eminently irrelevant to those who would care to look. By this he is able to scout out prey and linger close enough to stronger predators to try his luck with the carrion they leave.

Through the Beast that awoke, Xi Shi is endowed with an ability to digest just about anything given enough time. Flesh is his preferred sustenance but in desperate times, spirit enriched inanimate matter will do in a pinch. When threatened, he can vomit out a caustic deluge that is incredibly potent if not fast working. The bestial heritage that twisted him also provides enough resilience and vitality that his wretched frame is not a death sentence from frailty.

Dongcheng, The Breathing Mountain is an independent Nascent Soul living in the Hard Shell Mountains. He is a neutral party, staying mostly uninvolved with politics and trading with anyone who is nearby and doesn't threaten his territory.

Origins:

Dongcheng's rise to power began with his desire to see his beloved home, Coldstone Mountain, protected from invaders and conquerors forevermore. A large snow-capped mountain covered in forests, waterfalls and other assorted natural beauty, Coldstone is a true paradise, with few dangerous spirit beasts, gentle weather all year round, and bountiful harvests. However, beneath this beauty lies a powerful secret, known only to a few. This led to the mountain being fought over throughout history by mighty armies and empires. Every time it happened, this warring would displace the towns and villages which lived on the mountain, not to mention displacing and destroying the wildlife.

Desiring to protect his home by any means necessary, Dongcheng searched far and wide for greater power, becoming a respected and powerful independent Core Formation Cultivator. Yet this power was not nearly enough to ensure the independence of Coldstone Mountain. To do that, he would need the power of the fourth Great Realm, but Dongcheng lacked the raw talent to manage the task without the support of a powerful nation. To finally gain the strength he required, he made a pact with an ancient treasure known as the Eternal Onyx, which bonded to his flesh and transformed him into a man of stone.

It is said that, when one binds themselves to an uplifting treasure, the exact effect either takes a queue from one's Dao, or forces them onto a particular one. In this case, the Eternal Onyx's transformation mixed with Dongcheng's Dao of The Indomitable Guardian to make him the most immovable thing imaginable: a mountain. In his new form, Dongcheng gained the power to become one with the mountain, dispersing his essence throughout the entire place and suffusing it with his soul. In doing so, he gained awareness of the whole of Coldstone Mountain, including the terrible secret housed within.

Coldstone Mountain:

One cannot speak of Dongcheng without speaking of his mountain, for the two are one and the same. The varied elevations of the mountain mean that building a large city would be infeasible, and thus Coldstone is instead dotted with all manner of towns, villages and tribes, each with their own traditions and cultural idiosyncrasies. Nestled in the northwest of Yuan Clan territory, Coldstone Mountain finds istelf in close proximity to the Gao, Yuan and Qiguai Clans, as well as the Heavenly Time Shatter Sect.

While the close proximity of Coldstone to multiple borders would normally make them prime real estate for vassalization by the Yuan, there is just one problem. The mountain produces far fewer cultivators than normal, and those it does produce are weak. This is because Coldstone is one big qi transfer mechanism, designed to drain the energy of every living thing on the mountain and transfer it to a single recipient, enabling an Early Nascent to sustain themselves off this singular mountain and no other resources. To those who know this secret, it is a highly desirable piece of territory. It remains independent only through the actions of Dongcheng.

Having merged with the mountain itself, Dongcheng has created a no-win scenario for invaders. They cannot take the mountain for themselves, because he will ruthlessly attack any would-be conquerors so as to defend his subjects. They could take the mountain if they managed to kill him, but the only way to kill him is to destroy the mountain. And, of course, the only reason a person would be fighting Dongcheng is if they wished to take the mountain for themself. Through this Catch-22, Coldstone has known one thousand years of peace.

It is, however, the peace of a gilded cage. A person born on Coldstone will never make anything of themself. If they are a mortal, their life will be more comfortable than perhaps anywhere else in the Third Sea, but anyone with the potential to cultivate will find themself severely hindered by the qi drain. The priests who worship the Onyx Lord are the political and spiritual leaders of this society, and are entirely made up of Qi Condensation Cultivators strong enough to cultivate under the draining system. They use their limited abilities to maintain order in the mountain's towns and villages, and report directly to Dongcheng on matters of importance.

Abilities:

Dongcheng, as a man of living, qi-infused stone, possesses toughness beyond the norm for an Early Nascent, and treats damage or even the destruction of his body as an inconvenience. As the incarnation of Coldstone Mountain, his true body is the mountain itself, and only destroying the whole thing will kill him. This, however, is a very hard thing to swallow for potential invaders, as the mountain's power is the reason it is coveted in the first place. If his humanoid form is destroyed, he can simply create a new one once his qi has replenished.

While he is only an Early Nascent, Dongcheng's ability to replace his destroyed body over and over renders fighting him a difficult prospect. Not only can he fight without fear of death, but being able to kill him in one fight simply means the true battle becomes drawn out. In one case, Coldstone Mountain was occupied for seven years by a very tenacious Mid-Nascent, who stayed personally to put down Dongcheng. But Dongcheng, being the mountain itself, spied on his enemy at all hours, sending a body to attack her whenever she was at her most vulnerable and wounding her many times. She destroyed many of Dongcheng's bodies, but the effort was fruitless - eventually the constant attacks made her leave. This is the true brilliance behind Coldstone Mountain's continued independence, being such an irritation that it's not worth the hassle of conquering.

As thanks for the thousand years of protection Dongcheng has granted them, the people of Coldstone worship him as a god, the Onyx Lord. They regularly hold celebrations and perform rituals in Dongcheng's honor, and this worship has increased his strength further. Not only does his raw power grow from their prayers, but he has been observed recovering from exhaustion more quickly when in the presence of worshippers. Some believe that, due to the bizarre class of being he has become, the constant stream of qi which is sent to him and the worship of his followers, Dongcheng is close to becoming an elemental spirit. If this were to happen, it is unknown how his personality would be affected, but he would no doubt grow even stronger.

In battle, Dongcheng employs a combination of body arts, weapon arts, and a wide variety of powerful Earth-aligned techniques, including esoteric ones which can manipulate gravity. He favors oversized sabers, proportionally scaled to his huge battle avatars, but is proficient in many weapons depending on the situation. Rumor also has it that he can weaponize the qi-draining power of Coldstone, but this is unconfirmed hearesay.

Personality:

Dongcheng is a deeply stubborn man, obssessed with the independence of his little chunk of the world. This mentality stems from childhood trauma, having born witness to a war which wiped out his small tribe, who were unlucky enough to be in the blast zone of multiple clashing Elders. This defensive outlook on life extends to every aspect of how he acts - he is cold, aloof and distant to all who interact with him, putting up a front of an utterly immovable object. When sending out a humanoid body, he adorns it in fearsome iconography, having his subjects paint elaborate and colorful tapestries all over his onyx skin, serving both to depict his past victories and make him look even more fearsome.

All of this is for the purpose of scaring off any possible challengers, as even a victory can generate a lot of collateral damage which would harm his subjects. In truth, he is not as emotionless as he wants others to believe. He has his moments of doubt, despair and fondness, but shares these only with his closest and most trusted friends. To all others, he wishes to be seen as a true mountain - an insurmountable defensive wall.

As a ruler, Dongcheng is harsh but fair, treating his subjects in a just and unbiased manner but asserting absolute authority on matters he deems important. He is not a cruel man, and tries to not put more burdens upon his subjects than they can handle, but when his mind is made up, the Breathing Mountain will accept no compromise. When he gives a command, it is to be followed no matter what. Some would call this tyrranical, but he would tell you that tyrrany is needless oppression. As far as Dongcheng is concerned, this much oppression is required to keep his home safe and prosperous.

Dongcheng is well aware that by existing for as long as he has, he has shined a spotlight on Coldstone Mountain. The rumors of its secret power have spread far and wide, and many are licking their chops at the prospect of elevating themselves or their most trusted Junior. So long as Dongcheng lives, this is no problem, but when he is dead, the people of Coldstone will be beset by greater hardships than ever. Being too weak to stand up for themselves, he refuses to entertain the possibility of a mass exodus, reasoning that most of them would die on the journey.

Appearance:



Dongcheng's transformation has resulted in a rather inhuman appearance, even when taking on a humanoid form. His most common form, aside from Coldstone Mountain itself, is that of a ten foot tall warrior of shiny black stone, with either a bald head or wispy white hair, a long face and sharp features. The exact look of Dongcheng's face varies a bit from one body to another, as he no longer recalls exactly what his face once looked like. In battle he wears nothing at all, but will dress in ceremonial garb when speaking before his subjects.

That said, this is only his default appearance, and it is quite malleable indeed. His size and build can be whatever he wants, and when at war he will tailor a body to fight a specific opponent. Oftentimes, when wishing to scare off invaders, he will embellish himself with more demonic traits, such as tusks, horns, claws and additional eyes. He has also been known to take on a larger, more bestial form against certain enemies, sacrificing agility for greater physical strength. However, regardless of the shape he takes, Dongcheng is easily identified, as he is always made of glossy black stone.

Relationships:

The Breathing Mountain is a very private being, maintaining few friendships. He keeps a few confidants amongst his most senior worshippers in Coldstone, and of those confidants, a fraction could be considered his friends. Though Dongcheng mostly lacks human desires, being close to a force of nature at this point, he does enjoy a stiff, extremely strong drink. He likes to drink to remind himself of the faint slivers of humanity he still retains, and tends to become fond of anyone who can keep up with him on a night of heavy drinking.

In addition, Dongcheng maintains professional relationships with a few important figures outside the mountain. Most prominently are the Time Shatter Sect's Nascent Souls. He has met with both of them on multiple occasions, but what they have discussed is unknown. Dongcheng is in fact sworn to secrecy on the topic, through magically binding means. However, given the recent rise in Time Shatter cultivators utilizing gravity techniques, it is believed that some sort of exchange of information may be taking place.

Dongcheng thinks very little of the Region's other powers, but he does fear Altar Lord. As the Late Nascent who lives the closest to Coldstone Mountain, Altar Lord's tremendous advantage in power over even a strong Early Nascent is great enough to nullify any tactics the Breathing Mountain could bring to bear. And given the many dark arts which are known to the Altar Lord, Dongcheng also fears he could somehow kill him without destroying Coldstone.

Plains Early Nascents



Name: Gu Suyin/Emerald Painter

Location: Plains

History:

Legends spoke of an ancient clan. Back when the Sea was still alive, those mythical individuals shaped the landscapes, the people, the existence under heaven. Not through martial might. Not through great administration skills.

Nay, they changed and shifted the world to their liking because the world was a canvas. And they, the Gu, were the painters. Art, not martial arts, but art itself. To draw, to write, to paint from their imagination and apply it to the world, to make it more beautiful, more exciting.

Alas. Just like who could be their soulmates from another sea, of those that sing instead of pain…Reality only cared for conflict. Humanity didn't saw the beauty in their drawings. They only saw profit. Tools of war. Thus, a skill meant to represent the high of culture, of peace and creativity, was reduced to a bounty, reduced to a resource to be exploited. Painters were enslaved, hunted down, assassinated to deny others their skills. Their versatility made for great reagents, for great servants to prepare battlefields, to wipe out armies.

Soon enough, the legendary painters of the world were reduced to near extinction. Gu Suyin, in her life as a refugee, as an escapee of the prison that was the world, only knew agony in form of hiding her passion. After all, the first thing she did when she discovered this gift, this rare bloodline, was to pick up the brush she had…and ram it through a man's skull, the skull of the orphanage owner, whose apathetic eyes grew greedy and filled with lust. A lasting scar, a lasting impression that would be carried within her heart and reinforced as she fled and ran and killed over and over instead of simply painting.

Her desire to paint, to see her fantasies with her own eyes and not those of her mind's, chained down and tarnished by the desire to live. To only use her skills when necessary, to use her skills to kill those who knew of her heritage. Again and again, she had to flee and clash with the humans of the world as she shamed the wonders she was given by blood as the very tools of war that drove her kind to extinction. The more she learned of her blood, her ancestors, naturally, she grew to despise everything around her. Grew to distrust any and all living life forms that were capable of speech. Intelligence created greed, greed created destruction. That very greed that wiped out her innocent people, that only wanted to make the world more beautiful.

What misguided effort. One couldn't make the world more beautiful for it was a failure of existence. Those vermin that infested and worsened the world, which already abandoned her and her kin. So it only made sense that her Dao was a rejection of reality. To refuse to improve the world. No, she would not make the same mistakes as her ancestors.

She would paint only for herself.

It was a wonder she ever reached this level, the level of Nascent Soul. Fortune amidst misfortune, as those that hunted her down had treasures with them, resources she could use to better her own chances. And yet…here she was. Hiding out in the underground of the plains, currently in Strength Purity Sect territory. Rejecting any that tried to enter her small home, her paradise she created in this disappointment that was the world.

And if she had anything to say about it, she would never leave it or allow anyone inside of it. There was no loneliness if she knew that everything was a disappointment. All she needed were her paintings and nothing else.

Dao:

Fantasy. The desire to escape reality. To find the world as it is wanting…and wish for a better world to be created. Not for others, not because of some sense of justice…but because of the exhaustion of living in the hell that the Heavens created and the humans within worsened. A Dao made out of hopes and dreams, birthed from despair and reality.

Not the Dao of a King that wanted to burn down Heaven itself or defy heaven. But the Dao of someone that wanted to hide, that wanted to run away. That was too tired to make changes and just focused on themselves, defying heaven…by ignoring it.

Secret:

The lands of this dead region hid many secrets. Exotic beasts, treasures, even Secret Realms.

Gu Suyin wouldn't find any of those. Instead, she would simply find a cave, after wandering for years, avoiding human contact, to discover a good spot to hide out. With her heart shaken and her soul battered, she finally found refuge in a cave, after years of navigating through a deep maze within the earth. That cave itself was nothing special. A wide space that was illuminated by the moon and the stars through the hole that seemed to be miles and miles away from the ground she stood on. But, that light, those stars, shone on one miracle that would become the foundation of her arts to this very day.

The Tree of Myriad Stars.

Fruits growing from it had no special effects on their own. However, for once, fortune smiled upon the Emerald Painter. Perhaps there were other usage for them, she thought. But for her, it was as if tailormade.

Unbeknownst to her, it was literally tailormade. Back when the Sea was still alive, there used to be many such trees. To let paint flow out, by mixing and changing the very life that flowed through it, the Gu in ancient times planted many such trees, meant to be used only by those who had the blood of painters within them. Shriveled up and old by the standards of those times, it was still one final, wondrous gift for someone of her situation and status. Not that she would ever know of her ancestor's blessings.

Many different paints could be created from the fluids that dripped out of it, the variage in colors more vast than the stars themselves in the sky, infused with a ludicrous amount of energy. Thus, no longer having to use her very own Qi or other resources to get her paint, she could focus all her energy in perfecting her own techniques and paintings, supported by the very colors she now had. With what seemed to be an infinite resource of paint, this cave within the subterranean world of the plains, with only the Heavens themselves looking down on her, Gu Suyin found her own personal paradise which she would expand and improve over decades and centuries.

Arts:

Spirit Resonance War Paint Technique: A concept of applying traditions to one's very body to create various effects. Mainly meant to be used as a form of 'temporary Body Cultivation', the tatoos and patterns she would create for someone, including herself, had so many variations and combinations, the curses and blessings she could bring forth were only limited by her own limitation. As Gu Suyin didn't have any interest in the outside world, especially helping or harming humans, this skill does not see much use these days. But in the past, may it poisoning individuals with green patterns of scorpions or empowering her flesh and blood with crimson red markings, her experience was vast within this skill.

Bone Method Proclamation Technique: Not many would consider it as one, but calligraphy was an art by itself. By writing words into the air, one could cause many instantaneous effects. In theory, one could stop even time itself by just writing it. However, as Gu Suyin lacks the proper communication skills to make use of this to its full potential, at best, she could only create 'simple' things like infernos or furious lightning. If she were ever to expand her horizon in terms of social skills, she might be able to do more esoteric things with these techniques. Alas, her painting would suffice to make for any weaknesses of this technique.

Fake Servant Animation Technique: If the Spirit Resonance War Paint Technique was to improve things, this technique was meant to create things. More specifically, the creation of fake life, of minions that would suit her various needs. Packmules, shields, even soldiers. The more accurate and vivid the imagination behind the painting, the more powerful it grows. Reality and emotion intermingled to create the best result. For the Emerald Painter, animals and beasts were her forte. If she were ever to concentrate her trauma, her frustration of humans, she could create monstrous fake cultivators that could cause the real deal trouble. How unfortunate that she painted for joy, not combat.

World Egg Canvas Technique: The apex of Gu Suyin, the Emerald Painter. The manifestation of her very Dao. Using all her experience, her wishes and skills, she could create a world that was of pure fantasy, isolated and separated from reality itself. A subspace where the Laws of the world didn't apply. One could step into her realm, and be under her mercy. Naturally, such a technique was exhausting to say the least. It would take decades and centuries of energy to expand this world of fantasy even a little bit before having to return to mediation. By all means, it was a waste of time and resources, to create a world so miniscule it was pathetic. However, the Emerald Painter didn't care. In order to escape reality, to create paradise, she would continuously apply her resources and efforts to expand her dream, her Dao.

The Depthless Aquamarine Mirror, Starry Jade in the foreground
Old Starry Jade is an unaffiliated Early Nascent Soul nearing the end of her life at close to eighteen hundred years old. She currently lives in the far west of the Green Scale Plains, hiding out on the western coast of Great Drunkard Sect's territory.
Most days her body is transformed into a statue of soft colored green and blue jade by her Arts, its surface rough with opals and prismatic quartzes. These gems grow wildly and freely into a thicket that anchors her feet to the earth and reaches up to the sky like a tree. Together the jade and gems create something that looks like a chunk of the starry sky at twilight.
When she takes on her human shape, she appears as a woman of soft and rounded features with opalescent antlers growing from her eye sockets and white hair dull with age. Her limbs are thin and her build slim from dancing with the spear she uses as a weapon. She has not taken this form since Manuel Konstantinos ascended as Archegetes.
History
A very long time ago she used to go by the name Jinjing, when she was known to the Great Drunkard Sect as a wandering mercenary ally of theirs. As a Foundation Building Expert she helped guide the auspicious growth of minor mulberry tree orchards near the coast, consulting the stars with her skills as an astrologer and helping the Sect devise beneficial Feng Shui for their groves. Paid in small rewards for her work, she never planned to go very far beyond a life of comfort and scholastic pursuit.
During her time with the Sect she frequently got into rivalries with the Sect members over her spear work and dancing skills, but the thing she could not stand the most was ignorant fools attempting to contradict her expansive knowledge on the nature of the stars and cosmos. Sixteen hundred years ago this friction with the scholars of the Great Drunkard Sect, who she viewed as indolent and wasteful of their knowledge, created several terrible arguments. These debates and grudges eventually rose to such a vitriolic height that she killed three of the Sect's low ranking astrologers in one night, under inauspicious stars that would curse their reincarnations. When she was done she defaced their works, and hung their bodies from spears atop their own homes. She then fled from the Sect and went into hiding.
She stayed ahead of pursuit by using the stars to pick her path. For a hundred years they chased her fruitlessly, but her path was blessed and the path of her hunters was cursed. She ran west as far as she could go, deep into coastal mountains in the far west of the Great Drunkard Sect. After she crossed over this band of mountains she found a hidden valley.
Secret
This valley stretches directly to the sea and its sea side drops away into a sheer cliff dotted with caves where seabirds nest, and the mountains embrace it from every other side. Glowing green and blue grass grow around a great pool that is a perfect circle eight li in diameter. This pool is perfectly reflective and rising from its middle is a chunk of iron from a meteor.
This is the Depthless Aquamarine Mirror and the Meteoric Fist which created it when it impacted in this tiny valley thousands and thousands of years ago after a battle between Spirit Severing old monsters.
The water's surface is solid and impossible to pierce or disturb in any way, though nothing lives in the valley that could disturb it. The entire valley is filled with a dense pool of Sky Qi, a kind of Qi usually only found incredibly high in the atmosphere, brought down to earth by the Meteoric Fist. The Mirror in turn acts as a perfect reflector and observatory of the night sky. At night it seems like a pocket of the sky has come down and swallowed the earth. The combination also twists space and causality to make the valley impossible to reach unless one has a superlative knowledge of the stars and an intense devotion to those same stars.
Jinjing's astrological knowledge and sky based cultivation technique were perfectly suited to take in and use this incredibly dense Qi, something that would be useless to or kill anyone else who found it. She fused with the Meteoric Fist, transforming it into a throne of raw stariron ore, and discarded her old name. She renamed herself Starry Jade and began to meditate upon the nature of the Stars. The auspicious location and sheer power contained within the valley sustained her bodily needs and eventually pushed her to Nascent Soul. As her power has grown she has used it to improve the concealment of the valley and to repel any visitors; all have been cast into the sky like meteors flying in reverse, burning away into nothing after they intrude. She has also used her power to change herself, transforming her eyes into crystalline antlers better attuned to the night sky, so that she may more closely follow her Dao.
Dao
Old Starry Jade's sacred path is the Dao of the Cosmos and she is obsessed with comprehending the full scope of the stars and the universe. It has significantly altered her mind and perspective into a nearly inhuman form, and she is essentially impossible to negotiate with or compel. Force is met with expulsion and disdain, though she is not particularly threatening in combat.
Techniques
Old Starry Jade possesses three Great Arts, listed below.
The Sky Upon The Earth Form is the first of her Great Arts and the first secret she gained from the Meteoric Fist. It transforms her into an inactive jade statue as described above, which is incredibly hard to damage and also acts as a cultivation aid by controlling the circulation of Sky Qi in the valley of the mirror. This circulation pulls more Sky Qi down from the upper atmosphere and can itself be a weapon, by concentrating huge masses of Sky Qi around intruders to choke them and infest their Qi systems.
The Witness to All Skies Method is her second Great Art and it was taught to her by the Mirror. A method of clairvoyance which expands her gaze and all other senses, allowing her to touch and taste and hear the stars as well as see them. Using this art she is able to simultaneously view every part of the sky in the Green Scale Plains, and perfectly memorize every shift and change which occurs. It also gives her perfect understanding and awareness of her valley.
The Vacuous Contemplation of Starlight is her third and final Great Art, adapted from her original cultivation method using knowledge Starry Jade gained from both the Mirror and the Fist. As her primary cultivation art its use is obvious, but it has another effect; using the Mirror and the Fist she can direct the state of mind it creates outward and rob any who enter the valley of their thoughts. This traps them in a daze and forces them to stare witlessly up at the sky along with Starry Jade until they die of starvation or their cultivation collapses from lack of maintenance.

Once, there was a maiden,
Who yearned to go to sea.
She sought the breadth of the ocean,
Wanting to be free as can be.
As she wandered and wandered,
The coast grew further each day.
When she looked back, there was no land.
But she smiled, for she found her way.
She was free, why stay?

-The Saga of the Sea Singer

The Story
In some parts of the Verdant South, along the coastline where the land meets the sea, there are stories of a woman who walks on water.
The stories go that the woman resides upon the waves, never stepping on land but never sinking beneath the waves either. She resides upon them forever, walking slowly with small steps, never seen but always heard. The roar of the tides and the pitter-patter of the sea-spray, they say, are created by the woman's voice, and from before until forever she will sing the song of the sea.
The origins of the woman are little known, her name and appearance likewise enigmatic. Some say that she first appeared in the aftermath of the Fall of the Wei Empire, others claim she has existed since before the Sea-Conquering Army descended upon the world. Some others still, victims of her wrathful song no doubt, say that she is another of the legacies of the Demonic Soup Chef, the rage of the ocean yet another of that fell lord's legacies to blight this dying world. All that is known of the woman who walks of water, then, is the title that others call her.
To all who know her, she is the Sea Singer. The voice of the Sea.
And stories, they say, often contain a grain of the truth.
The Truth
The Sea Singer is a title passed on from Grand Elder to Grand Elder of a Maiden Sect that once resided on the very edge of the Verdant South, upon the southwestern-most point where the sea was closest. The name of the Sect is now forgotten, its arts lost, its disciples scattered, slaughtered or eaten by the Abyssal Devil Bees only three thousand years ago. Customarily, the one who takes the title of Grand Elder forsakes their name to become the Sea Singer, and the current owner of the title has followed these strictures.
The Sea Singer follows an art that allows her to draw Qi from the ocean itself, but it demands a steep price; any connection to the land will disrupt one's ability to synchronise with the art, and purifying oneself of the malign influence of the land and all its fruits and beasts is a process that would take a lifetime even for a mortal. To become the Sea Singer is to forsake the land in its entirety, never even stepping foot upon it. In exchange, however, the art is both powerful and remarkably efficient, allowing one to make use of resources that few others can even find.
Upon the waves, the Sea Singer is immensely powerful, yet her greatest power is to avoid fighting. With her arts, she can throw up mystifying illusions with the spray of the sea, summon thick clouds of fog that bar all sight and sense, and raise vast walls of water to block unwelcome visitors. Though like any Nascent Soul she has the power of flight, it is with feet on the water that she truly becomes speed, surpassing even a Late Nascent Soul in this regard. If need be they can dive beneath the waves as well to hide as a final resort, breathing the water like they can breathe air, though their speed returns to that of a mere Early Nascent Soul if they do this.
Ultimately, the Sea Singer cares little for the lives and affairs of the land-dwellers, spending her days in song and sojourn. She has little need for the resources of the land, for she has vast monopoly over the resources of the ocean, if little ability to harvest them. All she cares for enough to break her solitude are Songs and Stories, and they are all she cares to exchange for, the resources of the land having no value to her. But to those whose stories and songs interest her, what she has to offer may be of no small value.
The only other thing that might rouse her to action is the promise of vengeance against the Abyssal Devil Bee Sect, and she has long since quenched the fires of retribution that once burned from her grief. Indeed, even today the Devil Bees often keep an eye out to the sea, hopeful for a meal of flesh that would catapult them to greater heights of immortality. The Sea Singer might be called a coward by some, but she is no warrior, and is normally content to wander the waves in eternal solitude.
The Dao
The Sea Singer follows the Dao of the Ocean Song, one that seeks freedom and comprehension of vastness. By walking it to its conclusion, she has become an avatar of the depths, mercurial and spiteful, yet soothing and transient. Vast, yet Formless. Just as the waves wax and wane, so does her interest in mortal affairs.
The Singer's Orchestra
The powers of the Sea Singer are not insubstantial, but limit her to bodies of water and render her uninterested in the affairs of the landfolk; engagement with their kind has resulted in the death of her own, and the bounty of the ocean is fast and depthless indeed. To wit, she has the following known techniques:
The Water Nymph Form is the first of her Great Arts, its simple name not to be mistaken for a simple technique. It is the foundation of all her power, for it is what gives her harmony with the ocean. By embodying the signature art of her dead Sect, the Sea Singer can walk upon, reside comfortably within, sense through and draw power from bodies of water, the greater the better. As long as she remains within ten li of a body of water, she may draw power from it, shaping it to her liking in the forms of waves, mist and fog, and her ability to do so increases the closer she is, reaching its zenith as she makes physical contact.
The Seven Siren Song is the next and last known of her Great Arts, and what people believe to be the voice of the ocean. A powerful Demonic Tunes Soul Art, the Seven Siren Song allows her to shape and empower waves with even greater acuity than the Water Nymph Form allows her to as a matter of course, and the song itself can strengthen or shake the wills of those who hear it, some claiming that it can even resonate with one's Dao. Those who claim to have encountered the Sea Singer claim that even the strongest Dao-Hearts will quaver and quake in the presence of the Seven Siren Song, reduced to tears in a single stanza.
All of the Sea Singer's other arts remain unknown, for she disdains conflict or even contact with land-dwellers, and has become exceedingly good at escaping. For most, she remains a story, and even for the few, all that is known is a glimpse in the distance.

Name: Obsidian Eyes, The Awakened.

Description: Wild and untamed black hair, dark, tanned skin, and large dilated pupils, clad in crude straw robes and hat, stained with pungent dark fluid from a gourd, marks this man as more of a deranged barbarian than the elder cultivator he truly is, at least to those without the refined senses to realize the truth.

Dao: Waking. All of existence is a dream, clad in illusion, preconceptions and the tangled delusions of countless dreamers. Only in Waking can one reach Truth. Open your eyes, never must they shut for the gaps of the dream to be mended beyond sight. Open your ears and listen to those who dream more deeply. Open your mind and think, for what your senses feed you are but another layer of the dream. Awaken, and reach for the infinite.

History: Obsidian Eyes comes from no proper tradition of cultivation. As a mortal child, he had chanced across a rare grove of Prismatic Seven Purification Berries, and consumed some of the potent drug raw and unfiltered. Rather than dying as one would expect, he had for a moment, had all illusion cast from him, gazing at an immensity beyond comprehension and seeing what lies beyond the titanic beast the world exists upon.

This did not last, for when the drug finally wore off and he fell asleep, Truth slipped from his grasp as more than an impression, and a second dose had failed to achieve upon a cultivator what it had on a mortal. From that day, he had sworn never to sleep again, refining the berry bushes in his quest to once more, grasp the Infinite.

He had brewed wine, made powders, steeped teas, and cooked the beans in every form conceivable, arriving at a vast knowledge of alchemy with regards to a singular reagent and no other aspect of it. He had bred the beans for greater potency, feeding them his own cultivation, and raising the bushes as closer than blood kin. Each time he grows closer, but falls short nonetheless, for each time his cultvation grew, and so did his fortification against the drug.

In the present day, his concoctions would be a dire poison against any other being, so resistant to the sole material his cultivation depends upon he had become over the centuries. His domicile resides within dense thickets of awakened and cultivating bushes.

Arts: -Dream's End - Obsidian Eye's primary combat technique, Dream's End briefly and forcibly Awakens that which it perceives. Forces and materials without any awareness are rendered nonexistent, while inflicting spiritual damage upon those not ready to gaze upon his conception of Infinity. Dream's End is more intimidating than it is truly potent, much as spontaneous existence failure might seem of great might.

-Lidless Eye - So termed by those who encountered him, as Obsidian Eye's strange Dao considers this to be a natural state of his being, the Lidless Eye refers to his unsleeping awareness of his surroundings, penetrating every obstacle to perceive pure intent out to a tremendous range. Coupled with his paranoia, he is truly challenging to surprise or ambush,even by his peers.

-Infinity's Truth - He had once gazed upon the infinite expanse of the Void, and in this truth comes freedom from the confines of motion. Obsidian Eye can move himself, and greater effort, his grove without passing through the intervening space. He moves in flickers, seemingly ceasing to exist at one location to immediately take action at another.

Name: Hū Beifeng/The Shadowed Star

Derogatory Titles: The Burnt-out Ember, Old Coward.

Description: Long grey hair, folded in on itself in three parts, fraying at the edges, a short grey beard, well trimmed, covered with a dark cloak the shade of night itself that leaves him hard to focus on. The only things that belie the impression of an otherwise stealth focused Nascent are the unmistakable shine of something at his side glittering like stars past the surface.

Location: Plains

History: Ah, the Xin Kingdom. A land of fools, most would say, idiots who focus on their paltry magics in the face of the true might of cultivators, the body. The equivalent of beautiful paper that's easily torn to shreds by a passing tug. A curiosity at best, an annoyance at worst.

But if you get past all the ridicule from the visitors and the barely suppressed anger whenever you ask one of theirs, you find a particular legend, always persistently holding on in one form or another.

The story of a legend that would have brought back the past, if not for a shout held in.

Now, the details are all mostly incorrect. The passage of time is a cruel mistress indeed, though, it's not like Hū Beifeng would prefer it to be any other way.

Though, from one perspective, the most important detail got through.

See, the Xin Kingdom wasn't always part of the Desert, or perhaps more accurately, the progenitor of this particular clan lived in the Plains. Before he left to make his mark with his great Fountain in an attempt to recreate something that once existed when the Sea was alive, one of his disciples, honorary at most, was left behind.

This particular disciple had been just an ordinary servant to start out with, but out of the kindness of his heart, this master of the elements had decided to let them listen in on his lectures on the side as he taught his real students. This person may have been a hard worker, but ultimately it bore scarce fruit as of late, bottlenecking at the Third Heavenstage for decades now due to a congenital defect of the acupoints.

And so, Hū Beifeng was left behind with a pouch of spirit stones at a minor sect of sword-artists with a Foundation Establishment leader that owed a favor to his former master (as it couldn't be said that his teacher was an unkind man). Here, he'd live an un-extraordinary but safe life, being better off than many but destined to die unknown.

Something rubbed Beifeng the wrong way about that.

Three thousand years ago, as the last spirit stone in his satchel ran out, with a beautiful dream in his heart, a star fell to the earth.

Fusing to his meridians and carving fresh acupoints into his body in one fell swoop, the shining fragment gushed out a steady stream of Qi into his untouched spirit, scouring away the muck of earth with the divine purity of Heaven itself. There was more than enough numinous light to fuel his cultivation base forward into glory, propelling the man to the Ninth Heavenstage in a mere eight years.

If that wasn't enough, he found that his affinity for the Wuxing had skyrocketed, spells of flame scorching houses when bales of hay had been his limit before, cutting wind slicing through hard rock and even the lightnings of the sky itself bending to his will. It seemed implausible, absurd, but was it not said that Heaven stands above the Five Elements? Foes who once would be unconscionable to face became casual demonstrations of his might, and the former heir of the sect quickly had his position ousted.

A talent beyond talents had arisen.

There was just one little problem with all of this.

That star shouldn't have fallen.

There were systems for things like this, systems that had spun unimpeded for thousands of generations above the highest clouds of the sky and below the deepest caverns of the earth. Usually, an error of this sort wouldn't occur, but the gears had grown rusty and cracked over this patch of the world, after a certain chef made his gambit seven thousand years prior.

That grand celestial machine worked on a scale far larger and more important than the small ants that crawled on this shell, so in the larger scheme of things this was within acceptable margins of error. A section that hadn't received much oil as of late enacted a protocol three ticks of the clock needle too early.

Even so, this could very potentially rise into an annoyance.

And maybe it may have, in another time, but contingencies had been put in place ages ago.

As Hu Beifeng called tribulation, foolishly determined to go forward even if he died if he'd be able to show his former comrades how much he had grown, holding his Minor Dao of Excellence firmly in his mind, nothing happened.

This may have seemed a blessing at first, but without tribulation, his Dao could not be tested for imperfection and his Qi Sea couldn't be primed to easily form into a Pillar.

Even so, given the stories that he had heard of people dying from tribulation, perhaps this was for the best. A small piece of doubt wormed itself into the core of his resolve.

Over the course of the next few years, he slowly crystallized the contents of his Dantian into his first, shaky Pillar.

It was a toothpick for a Foundation at best, hardly worth the name, but with the star, Beifeng reasoned, this didn't matter.

With his power that stretched past his small realm, he impressed many minor sects in the area, defeating their famous warriors of the sword and fist and joining them under his banner, the banner of the Six Elements Harmony Sect, for their leader was not limited to the Five of mortals.

He returned home the conquering hero, with his sect laid out in procession heralding his arrival. After much festivities, Beifeng greeted his old master. After all of these years, he had come back.

As the decades passed, Beifeng formed his Pillars of Fire, Water, Earth, Metal and Wood, each more stubby than the next. After significant preparation, fashioning a Lightning-Attracting Fan from the tail-feathers of a Thunder-Touched Phoenix, he was prepared to form his final Pillar of Lightning and finally truly face the lightning that he had deferred for all of these years.

But as time had gone by, that niggling core of doubt in his heart had grown into something more sinister. Beifeng no longer had the will to do so, thinking that his hubris would strike him down.

Even with the tempering from a prior tribulation, he saw powerful Experts, bold in their ability to dream, being blasted into fine soot. What would happen if he tried the same?

So, instead, he formed and aligned a Seventh Pillar of Heaven's Favor, in a pathetic attempt to grovel in front of the Heavens to not send lightning at him once more.

And of course, the Heavens didn't. Painstakingly, Beifeng brought his Pillars together into a misshapen Core, centered around the Dao of the Awarded Elementalist. As to hide his fear, he proclaimed throughout the land that he was the Chosen Son of Heaven, the future emperor of the Region, and all sorts of grand words that should by any reasonable standard have ended in his death by someone either being offended or looking to make their name.

However, the power of the star held true. Luck flowed endlessly, preventing gossip from spreading to the wrong ears, or making it less likely for them to be angry if they did. Those who ended up fighting despite that ended up executed by the power of the Star.

By this time, his master had left to wander somewhere else, and Beifeng was left to lead what was left behind. The Xin flourished under a leader of his level, and even as vassals of the Golden Devil Clan, were among the foremost.

As Beifeng's Core solidified with time, his mind aligned closer and closer to the wishes of Heaven, until at the very peak where he could advance no more.

As expected.

At the critical moment, the Star, so content for so long to lay dormant, acted. Beifeng was compelled to attack the Golden Devils directly, alongside the rest of the Xin. Heaven exhorted him to bring back the past by exterminating the overlords that ruled over the Xin, or so it said. It would grant him ancient lore from a time where Qi-Sorcery reigned above all paths. It promised all of that and more, even as his body moved mechanically forward, for the Awarded Elementalist could not refuse a bribe from the Heavens.

There should have been no scrap of dissent remaining in him. Even if the action would have led to the death of most of his entire adopted Clan, it should have still been done.

However, somehow, there was one spark left, in the cultivation base crafted specifically to chain him, for it had not always intended to be so. Seen through a warped mirror as it might have been, there was a memory of a dream that once existed in the mind of a much younger man, a man that had believed in something. That man never expected his dream to be fulfilled, but he promised to himself that he'd remember it one day if he could.

And as the passage of time tends to do, dreams are eroded by reality, and one tries to forget them so they don't cause one heartache. No, it could not be that. He'd have never forgotten. Something was wrong. He remembered that burning feeling in his heart. It filled him from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. This wasn't something that could be lost to something as fragile as reality. Surely—

Wait, what was he thinking about again? There was certainly something, but he didn't know quite what…

With a flare of annoyance, he looked within.

For a brief moment, when he made his first Pillar, he carried some of it in his heart, whatever it was, and that was something that would be immutable, no matter what. Until now, he supposed, but if it got him out of his current predicament, this'd had to suffice. A shaky smile slipped on his face for a moment.

He grasped the chink on the surface of the sphere, and pulled.

The Core cracked, and lightning, finally, blessed, cursed lightning, after all of the past centuries, finally rushed downward towards him, while the strongest among the Xin readied in camps.

It was like all of his luck paid itself back at once.

They all died. Scrolls of lore, body-strengthening arts that harmonized the five elements penned, bought, found or stolen by his hand to supplement Qi-sorcery were ruthlessly exterminated by curved arcs of red, green, yellow, blue and gray, branching from the main column above.

Treasures a trader from the Gemstone Palace had sworn could withstand the temporary attention of a Nascent Soul, bought at grievous price, shattered in instants. His left leg, reinforced with the blood essence from the bones of an ancient Nascent Black Tortoise, seared to charcoal, and soon joined itself with his right arm, as well as significant swathes of his belly.

Once the other bolts were done with their book-burning, they came from him from the sides as well, cutting off all possibilities of escape.

Water nourishes wood, wood feeds fire, fire burns to make earth and from earth comes metal. But lightning? It stands above all. Beifeng keenly knew this, but it was the first time that he had to face it himself.

As the harmonization grew together, eyes blurred, looking into the sky, something happened.

A light that had come from the sky so long ago flickered, grew dim, and cracked into a thousand shining sparks, blown away by the wind. One spark flittered on the wind for a bit, before stubbornly clinging to his right thumb.

The clouds finally dispersed.

In the aftermath, Beifeng looked at what he had done in horror, and fled, never to be seen into the Plains.

The Xin were consigned to irrelevance, building up from scraps. The Fountain survived, but diminished, only able to raise their leader to Mid Core before halting.

Sometimes, people say they can hear his sobs in the sound of thunder after a tribulation if you're in just the right place.

But of course, that's just a story.

Dao: The Pathetic Star

This is the path of the one who thinks they are the embodiment of failed potential.

After climbing heights of glory, only to realize it was all a sham at the end, Beifeng has a powerful belief in the worthlessness of his self. The fact that he acts so hard to stay alive besides this is only more proof of that very worthlessness.

The fact that he hasn't come back to his Clan to help the Xin is even more so.

If he truly believed in this Dao, he'd have rid the world of such a trouble by now, so something is off. Is this because of his inability to adhere to his path, or is there something more to it?

Secret: A shattered fragment of a Star that once shone in the skies. In its current state, it pulls only enough Qi to be unnoticed by greater attention, just enough to sustain Beifeng's cultivation base and no more.

Needless to say, this has left him weak.

So, he cloaks it in layers of tenebrous shadow, relying on time-worn myths of his old power to scare off those who are particularly persistent, pretending that he is merely holding back and can unleash terrifying might at will.

Instead of the Shattered Star, he's known as the Shadowed Star. He weaves in tales of his seemingly impenetrable stealth into his mythos, trying to present a picture of puissance rather than cowardice.

There are very few that know otherwise, but those who do are unlikely to act.

If there's anything left in him to burn brilliantly, one last time, only Beifeng knows.

Arts: Hū Beifeng is fundamentally a coward at heart.

If another Nascent is chasing him, he will run away and hide as much as he can before he's forced to fight, so getting him to do so needs him to be absolutely out of options.

If he ultimately has to, he fights to create openings to escape with. His techniques are all ultimately merely Core-level, but powered up with Nascent power to levels of relevance. Against a Core they might be all but invincible, but in Nascent Soul this is an unacceptable disadvantage.

What is odd is that throughout the millennia, he apparently hasn't fixed this issue.

Perhaps he's hiding something? Or perhaps Beifeng does indeed have no other options at all. No one can tell.

Lightning of Absolution

A cascade of lightning bolts in a fulminating storm that rapidly expands to the width of an entire city, pulverizing it to nothing.

It's not nearly as relatively potent as it once was back when Beifeng tossed it around as a Core, bringing terror to foes in the Late Stage of Core Formation while he was in Mid Core Formation, as he can no longer borrow the power of Heavenly Will as directly as he once could.

Even so, a Demonic Nascent or those otherwise disfavored by Heaven may want to dodge rather than contemptuously take the hit, for these lightnings significantly intensify in power against Heaven's enemies.

After all, the only absolution for sins against Heaven is death.

Even if Beifeng is a failure of an enforcer, this property remains true.

Sorrow of Heaven

A veritable deluge of apocalyptic proportion falls from the skies, washing away all of the "Sin" from the world.

As all cultivation defies the will of Heaven, this is an attack that proportionally increases in strength with the cultivation bases of those affected.

Against a mortal, this might be nothing more than a light shower, but against someone in the Qi Condensation stage, every single raindrop is a fierce javelin that penetrates past all defenses.

Curiously enough, this only increases in potency with the foe's cultivation level. It ignores all other offenses, such as the Blood Path or possessing the Blood of Bronze.

This is not concurrent with recent information that the primary directive was to [DATA EXPUNGED], and as such, this is suspected to be modified from its original form as a blessing.

Flames of Worthlessness - ????? Type

The sole technique held by Beifeng and Beifeng alone.

Back when he was in Core, the only reason he developed this was the particular feeling it gave him. A resonance with a forgotten memory that composed the first portion of his Core gave rise to a minor Dao effect.

There was something missing, something lost, and he longed to fill that hole with something when he was younger. Beifeng had chosen the path of Heavenly reward, but from time to time he had doubt.

It could be said that it was only because of this technique that a sliver enough of him remained at the end to break his Core, though that would not be the full truth.

When he uses these Flames, a flame of pure white, the same color as canvas, shoots out, degrading all physical matter. Things like souls are unaffected, so to someone who can survive without a body, this is largely pointless.

In terms of relative potency, this is only as swift as it was in Core, and doesn't increase in volume past a certain amount of Qi. At his current level, it's a novelty at best.

It appears another factor is required to improve them.

To a Nascent, this is casual enough to dodge, so he mostly uses it to make holes to hide in, as it's bizarrely efficient to use.

Desert Early Nascents

If you see a wound; patch it. If witness a wrong; right it. The greater the hurt, the more costly the cure. But there is no such thing as a beggared healer. For they are ever rich in virtue.

-Old Maxim, Source Forgotten

There once was a great beast, upon whose back was carried the lives of countless millions. A virtuous cycle that served as a world unrestricted and protected from above, while holding up infinite lives from below. The calm green plains. The unyielding carapace of mountains. The teeming and infinitely varied lives of the Not-Forests that served as its soft underbelly.

Evil was punished by Righteousness.

One day, an unvirtuous man saw this world and petulantly declared himself unsatisfied with it. And so, as was the wont of the wicked he took that which he could not build himself. Ever taking in a greater and greater chunk of the infinity that was that hard working Child, and doing the impossible.

That which was immeasurable was consumed.

Great wounds were dealt to the World, and from its soft innards was cooked a Demonic Soup. Leaving behind in its wake a still corpse, the green jungles giving way to arid dunes in the passage and departure of their murderer.

That is the story of the Third Sea, told again and again and again for tens of thousands of years. Inspiring thousands of would-be healers to find a way to do the impossible - revive the Turtle Child, and relive halcyon days that existed before Blood Path, far beyond living memory.

Hundreds traveled to the Organ Meat desert, putting their lives on the line to see if their arts could potentially make the difference. Find some sign that it was possible to bring back the World-Beast. Throughout that history, dozens of nameless heroes and madmen plied their craft, coming up with a treatment and desperately attempting to complete it to implementation.

Not even a score succeeded in making their attempt.

History

Three Thousand years ago, one girl - born fair - looked down from her chamber that was the highest room of the tallest Tower in her Sect, and beheld the suffering of her people. Dissatisfied, she sought ways to aid them. Yet here this young girl was different: Even as a mortal, as a child, this girl was possessed of an unshakeable conviction and boundless compassion. For every restriction plied upon her, she advanced her understanding of the healing arts.

For every would-be suitor she faced, she came closer and closer to leaving behind the privilege to which she had been born.

But in giving those things up, and growing closer to the suffering which she so abhorred - the girl became a young woman. And she, too, suffered.

Healer Eversong she named herself, a new identity to face the grim reality of her task. To dispel the darkness that clouded the hearts of the suffering, she would sing every morning with her beatific voice. To ease the aching hearts of her charges, she would ever bear a smile of compassion and empathy. But even as a Cultivator on the plains, as she breathed in the rich Qi, she knew that it was tainted with the briny tang of death. Settling on her tongue, invading her nostrils. Every moment and every second that she cared for the people before her, she ignored the greatest victim upon whom all stood.

With that contradiction filling her heart, Eversong crossed into the ranks of Foundation Establishment on the back of a Pillar of Perspective. To identify the ailment is the first step of any treatment. As a Foundation Establishment Healer, Eversong's services became ever more prized. Ever more sought. Her compassion at healing all she could ran into the inevitability of the divide between herself and those who were her "lesser". A fact that as she became more capable, her Perspective gave sight to those who she could not save.

Where once she had been bewildered by the Avarice of the Great Murderer, the young woman would begin to see the nature of the greed and lust for power that pervaded society. For the first time, Eversong began to appreciate what she had given up for the sake of her convictions.

One Pillar became two, then three, then four and more as Eversong wandered the lands, eventually deciding that the smell of brine was intolerable. Five Pillars became Six, then Seven, and with a complete set the young woman stood before the Hard Shell mountains, her back to the Verdant Plains. With the limited time she had, Eversong would be able to make more of a difference to the East; where living amongst the Beasts was to brush with callous death every waking moment. With the fusing of Seven Pillars, Eversong faced down the fulmination that challenged her resolve. And in so doing, merely solidified her belief in the Way of Recovery. It is impossible for one person to heal an entire population alone, and thus the most efficient way to save many was to stand strong and give them the space to recover on their own feet.

Given room to rest and heal, what tinctures and medicines Eversong devised became that much more effective; her many and myriad patients were able to move again in days as compared to the arduous weeks that they would have suffered before the consolidation of her Dao Pillar. Traveling through the mountains, seeing the way in which people struggled and survived even against the endless tides of Beasts which filled the Hard Shell, Eversong's conviction grew ever-deeper, ever more certain.

And so she crossed into the Desert, her life's destination. Having come further than most in the life's ambition she held dear, Healer Eversong descended amongst the Sands, heading ever-south through the lands of the Golden Devil Clan. The desert was harsh. Merciless. Where once cultivation was an easy thing indeed, the dead nature of the Organ Meat Desert perpetually sucked at her Qi in a parody of the ease with which she had cultivated in the Verdant Plains of her youth.

Even so, people endured, they recovered through the efforts of themselves and their communities. The Golden Devils - alien as they were in every sense - most of all. Hardy beyond needing Eversongs own skills, the wary bronze-skinned still directed Eversong to those who would benefit the most from the attentions of a Core Formation Healer as rare as they were. Another piece of advice she learned during those years of travel:

Head no further East.

The Battle Blood Cannibals are more ravenous than any beast, and a wandering Healer like herself would make a fine meal - rendering her mission moot, her life's ambitions unfulfilled. With a nod of that sent her dusky red locks tumbling, the Healer's course was decided:

South, towards the Sea.

It was in those furthest reaches were Eversong's Dao, initially so demonstrably true - So firm and flawless. The self-sufficiency! A simple investment of effort of care, and anyone could recover under their own power, no need for constant care! - would be shaken for the first time. Cut off and separate from all others was a region of sands populated by mutanated hybrids of man and goat. Forever damned to a terrible non-existence. Cursed by the means of their birth to have infinite complexity and uniqueness in physiology. Inequality. Incapability. Baked into the fundamental building blocks of the Goatmen Nation. There was no community that could care for its sick. The inherent viciousness born of desperate poverty meant that the weak and vulnerable were culled slowly through death by want.

Many times did a desperate, mad Qi Condensation mutant attempt to browbeat her into servitude - mistaking the Healing Arts for a sign of weakness. The lessons did not stick. The Goatmen were so fractuous, so incapable of uniting, that even rumors were not spread between one and their neighbors. Each wound ate up Eversong's attention. In which time two more goatmen were felled for one petty reason or another.

For five years, Eversong stubbornly refused to accept the inevitable. As an outsider, as one who believed that a patient is a person, and as a healer…She could not change the Goatmen and set them on the path to recovery. That would require a hero from within. A paragon that the Goatmen could see as one of their own.

With this rationalization in hand, the Healer barely managed to resolve the strike to her Dao-Heart, avoiding Deviation. And with that realization fresh in her heart she left those Goatmen behind, lest she be caught up in their insults once again.

Her Dao affirmed, Healer Eversong entered the Great Circle of Core Formation as she descended Southward once more. At which point, she would finally have the encounter that would shape her destiny forever more.

Ascension

At the very most southern point of the Meat Organ Desert, where the border between life and death is at it's very thinnest before the Qi Draining Expanse, lies a vast, tunneling pit in the sand. Far deeper than any mountain, it descends for several li, and though the air is much drained, it still retains the echoes of a powerful conflux of Wind and Human Qi. The eddies shift and tug at the sands, shaping the interior of that pit ever-slowly into strange shapes and smooth structures. Half-pipes and sharp-angled boxes, seemingly without rhyme or purpose. Always hardened at the singular moment of completion before the environment begins its grim work once again.

The scent of iron lingers, and it is that which eventually draws Healer Eversong to it. The tang of blood, too weak to possibly be Blood Path, and the only sign of life to be found south of the Goatmen Tribes. So the Elder approached, now at the final stages of her Path, and desperate for a prize to take from this long journey, did recklessly climb down amidst the shifting dunes where wind and eddies of fractured space tore incessantly at her. The winds screamed - you are not fast enough!

So she hurried, but the speed of the Core Formation was insufficient, and she was flensed.

The hungry space was then drawn to the spilt blood. Emanations and whispers of power, knowledge. The deep places in the desert, and the method by which the child was slain. For was the first step of healing not diagnosis? To treat you must identify. To identify you must know. Tempting. Enticing. Caressing. You lack knowledge of the hunger, the whispers seduced her, does the body not need to Consume in order to heal itself?

But she turned her ears away, and the flensing became a scraping. Each whispering eddie became a rebuke which bit deep into her flesh, meaninglessly siphoning into a long-dead aperture.

Exhausted, Healer Eversong descended, barely surviving the ancient battlefield not because she was worthy, but because she could Recover from the losses. The effort had cost her. Where once had been a smiling woman, wholesome and hale and young was now a wizened crown. Cheeks which still bore the signs of baby fat drawn lean, all stores of sustenance cannibalized by the self and the Arts to retain life. A half-dead corpse fell to its knees in the bottom of the pit, where the winds and the space did not reach - bleeding out from a thousand cuts.

As she fell, one can only ask - In the end, was the Healer Eversong's luck good, or ill?

For lying hidden at the bottom of that ancient battlefield was a piece of amber, sap from a plant tens of thousands of years dead. The lifesblood of a long-past blade of Fleshstripping Fen Grass. Buried beneath the sands, it had remained unearthed until the more recent battle between Nascent Souls had nearly exposed it to the air, the impacts of the strike cracking it just enough to reveal its own hidden treasure.

The preserved corpse of a Three Visions Bog Mosquito. A rare creature which struck its victims with a powerful hallucination of the mosquitos making that let it glut upon its victims undetected. A Nascent-Level insect which existed before the Blood Path and preyed upon beings of its level in the times when Nascent Souls were more common in this Third Sea. But what could a Mosquito use to fool a Nascent Soul? You may ask. Even as a Nascent Soul, a Mosquito is only a Mosquito, after all.

And you would be right.

When the exposed stinger - fragile and desiccated beneath the sands - met the body of Healer Eversong, it did not strike and snap against her fortified Core Formation flesh. By seeming providence, the ancient creatures remains struck into a weeping wound wrought by the storm above, Eversong too weakened by this point to heal her more superficial wounds. The point struck, and though it could not restore itself to life from such a meager offering, it was still enough to trigger the illusionary venom which still lay in traces about it, preserved by amber and the sands both.

So it was, that at the very end of her journey as a Healer, as a Cultivator, at the edge of the map, did the woman known as Eversong make her second fortuitous encounter. Near dead, she was assailed by a vision she could not resist, a hallucination of potency far beyond her ability to comprehend and challenge. What she saw was a great ecosystem, teeming with life. But utterly unlike the rich, teeming jungles that records had shown of the land before it had become the Organ Meat Desert. The Wild Jungle Underbelly of myth.

A damp, fetid land. Where the trees that grew were stunted and gnarled, vicious and wizened as they bared their fangs against the sea. Fields of grass sharper than any blade of metal, stabbing into the earth below to draw their bounty. Clouds that obscured the vision and blocked out the sun, not of moisture or storm, but of chittering and buzzing insects uncountable. With the howling of the wind carrying the scents of decay and salt, the mere Core Formation Elder saw that the land which she had sought to heal had not been some tame, gentle thing. Nor had it been some unknowable and legendary territory beyond imagination.

It was an entire system. A great, beating body which had different lands, just like this one, that had fought against the rapacious seas and other things of the world in order to let the Jungle behind it sup from the sweet bounty of their waters. A vicious, cruel guardian and caretaker. Gouged out and missing.

In a fit of Enlightenment, the Healer understood why the desert could not heal. In slaying the Turtle child and exposing its innards, he had wiped out a necessary organ to the body's ability to heal. Much like the human body required the liver and the kidneys in order to process out toxins so that the flesh may flourish…These…Bogs, Marshes, and Fens too served a necessary role.

Even should someone else succeed in restarting the heart of the long dead Turtle Child, they would still die of shock, for their body would not be whole.

The patient could not recover on their own. It was impossible.

Her Dao cracked at the bottom of that pit, and the Heavens recognized her trespass onto forbidden knowledge. Though the Turtle Child is dead, there will be no further desecration of its corpse by the maggots feasting upon it. The clouds roiled, and the wind and whispers receded in terror. Though the Qi Draining Desert still drank deeply, ever so deeply to fill it's lack, the Healer knew that the energies were insufficient. You could not brute force healing.

Tribulation came, lightning pouring into the pit, and striking the woman deeper into the sands, blasting away cherry red stone, and drowning her in glass. But even as the ground drank of the lifesblood and killing intent, the physician drew in the vital energies and fed them into the earth around her. Spreading the strength not into meaningless dirt and clod, but the starved and sleeping plants and eggs that had become buried and dormant beneath eons of death and particulate.

The heavens churned and poured down their energies, and in a fit of mad inspiration Tribulation Lightning was channeled deeper and deeper into the bedrock. Where raw force and qi were not enough, the flesh scrabbled and drew the fragile life into its own wounds, still weeping brackish blood. Where those who would ascend rose towards the Heavens in defiance, the Physician dug deeper into the earth, Heaven's peerless scalpel opening the way.

Cherry red glass gave way to molten stone, and as the sediment turned into bedrock flesh became insufficient. Tribulation poured, and a caring soul reached out into the depths, carrying those nourishing energies into long past warriors who needed to only be awakened to once again serve their purpose. But rock was a poor place to grow even for ones such as they.

Thus they took root in more pliant soil; a Nascent Soul.

As the first clutch of nearly invisible eggs were drawn into a slowly greening bosom, the healers body healed as well. Life infused as it had been shared in turn, even as she descended - the mass of living matter now serving as a bulwark and ward against the Fulmination, expending itself in ever greater intensity. Driving the Physician ever deeper into the depths of the earth. Ever spreading out, finally piercing the bedrock to discover long lost peat in which to secure themselves.

With a final, multi-colored burst and sonorous roar, the Physician was driven through a soft ceiling into a grotto, hidden deep underground but steeped in the scent of salt and brine all the same.

Landing into the hidden tendril of the sea - which even now burrowed its way into the rotting flesh of the Turtle Child - the Physician That Was discarded her previous role and resolved her newfound Dao with unflinching purpose. What had been lost, she will dedicate her life to replacing. Finally setting the Turtle Childs body on the way to recovery. The Heart and Mind would just have to be the job of someone else.

Her place was here, taking on a new name. From her surroundings. From her purpose. And from her Heresy against the will of a child's grieving parent.

Secret

Deep beneath the sands lay a hidden network of channels of pure water, threading their way below the Organ Meat Desert. Endlessly cycling and feeding into cisterns and grottos and groundwater wells the region over, they were formed over the course of millennia originally through the forces of ravaging Sea Qi, the elements inherent to them poisonous and stripping the solid earth of the nutrients needed to support life from below. But that network has a single entry point, from the Third Sea itself.

In ages past, that underground channel was open, enabling the free encroachment of the ocean and its denizens.

But no longer.

The bottomless chasm, hidden away from light has been dammed. Loamy peat fills the depths that will never see the light of the sun, born of new plant matter and buttressed with the cracked bone and offal of many sea creatures which had sought to test the strength of the Bog Witch.

Rootlets fill the water, blades of long-extinct grass extending between them to create a filter of surpassing potency - only further enhanced by the strength of a Nascent Soul backing it. Above the surface extend ropes of bioluminescent lichen and shrubbery, within which sightless birds nest besides never-sleeping swarms of insects. Predators which feed on and aid the core of this ecosystem.

With the majority of the invaders dealt with, the accumulated sediment channels the oceans current into a singular point - the form of a bloated, material figure ever-meditating. Half her figure above water, and the latter just below it. All Sea Qi is drawn into the Bog Witch, and particulates and coarse Spirit Salt are drawn deep within her hungering dantian. The runoff continues past her into the tunnels, filtrated into purest Water Qi.

The only sounds that fill the darkness are the lapping of waves, the sounds of life.

And when a thrashing Leviathan arrives to try and force its way through?

"What. Are ya doin'. IN MAH SWAMP?!"

Dao

The Sandstone Bog Witch's Dao is one that escapes easy definition. It is about the ecosystem, it is about life, about the way that it miraculously sustains and repairs itself even if it sometimes needs help to replace what can not be repaired. To give of oneself so utterly to save something not only infinitely larger than oneself, but in turn saving uncountable smaller things as well. An ultimate and terrible sacrifice, to save more lives than can be imagined.

One life for Many Lives. To the point of destroying the self, in order to create salvation that outlasts you. Or perhaps attaining an enlightenment in doing so that ascends oneself to the point of being able to heal even as grievous wounds as these.

Like a filial child, saving the family through becoming a daruma for all time.

Arts

Estuary Filtering Method:
The role of the land between the great briny blue, and the potable brown is to take in the pollutants that come from without. Sediment. Invasive species. Sea life. All encounter not a great wall, but a battery of defenses that stand sentinel against invaders. Only possible by using ones body and soul to take in and process Sea Qi, and then separating from it all elements other than the pure water that lies at its heart before letting it pass. An incredibly involved process that requires the coordination of entire ecosystems worth of organisms moving in carefully choreographed concert, especially when faced with the vast and maddening volume of the Sea itself at every turn. At its core, this is a technique that is supremely defensive in nature, evolved from a core basis of drawing out toxins and infecting qi from a harmed body.

Intertangled Bog Body: When Eversong broke through to the Nascent Realm, driven into the firmament by Heavenly Tribulation, her body was forced through uncountable tons of dessicated and fossilized plant matter even as it was reforged into a vessel fit for a Nascent Soul. As her spirit freed itself from its mortal confines, rather than stretching into the sky it instinctively channeled the tribulation along itself into the forces which needed the resuscitation most, the Nascent Soul serving as a channeling force. As a result, Eversong ceased to be in the most real sense, and the Bog Witch was born from her. The Intertangled Bog Body consists of the raw materials of the former Eversong, along with the resurrected flora and fauna that were caught in the range of her tribulation. As a result, rather than a Soul Aperture, it can be said that the Intertangled Bog Body is host to a Nascent Seedbed from which new life endlessly springs forth and is nourished by the energies and power of a Nascent Soul.

As a result, the consciousness of Eversong has been reduced to a base, near-feral thing, spread across the uncountable organisms that draw from her Bog Body. But this connection is hardly loose - at all times plants and animals move in eerie concert, uniting their strength with the rest of those touched by the Bog Body to perform its ingrained task. An offensive art, Nascent level insects, beasts, and even plants strike with the power of a dedicated ecosystem in an unending storm of nature's fury against those who resist the processes of the Estuary Filtering Method. Bringing their attackers low, they gleefully repurpose the remains into further independent nourishment. Until the day comes where fauna or flora are Nascent Soul in strength themselves, and are free to split off from their greater self in order to carry out its great purpose within the slowly recovering guts of the deceased Turtle Child.

Because of this focus, when moving in concert it is possible for the Body's constituent parts to act similarly to a Formation, and in doing so strike above the Early Nascent Soul cultivation of their host body.

Self-Transplanting Sutra: The transplant of foreign organs into a body is one that the body naturally abhors, always seeing the new part as a hostile invader and turning the entirety of its defenses towards repelling it. Only through the usage of specialized healing drugs and Arts can the organ or limb be safely integrated into their new host. Born of the knowledge of such techniques, what thoughts that the Bog Witch possesses are devoted towards the endless chanting of this sutra. Though the heart of the Turtle Child no longer beats, the remnants of its body still twitch and squirm. And even if those incalculable scale immune responses be unresponsive, the day will come when the Turtle Child lives again, and the Bog Witch shall still be performing its appointed role as a replacement for the organs which the Demonic Soup Chef had stripped away.

There may be one day, when the Turtle Child's body accepts this new part in its entirety. Only then, shall the Bog Witch cease her muttering, and her final fragment of self shall be sublimated into a greater whole.

Art of Great Desalination: The cultivation method of the Bog Witch, born of a lifetime of experience in cultivating from myriad sources. The greatest difference between the water of the Sea and the water of the Land is the Salt that dwells within all Seawater. Though the Bog Witch can filter it out from the water, the remaining salt still clings to her body in its entirety. Thankfully, like Spirit Stones, the Sea Salt is possessed of Qi trapped within its sediment. Truthfully, Great Desalination refers to cleansing the salt from the Bog Witches body directly, rather than the form of cultivation it takes the form of. This is reflected by the absolutely abysmal conversion rate that comes from taking in the Sea Qi embedded within it.

However, the Bog Witch filters a staggering amount of Sea Qi every second of every day, and even with the laughable fraction of Qi absorbed by the technique, what the Bog Witch obtains is still enough to maintain her Early Nascent soul cultivation, as well as fuel her arts towards her noble purpose.


The Bodhisattva Sitting Under the World Tree

Listen closely and listen well, for I tell you this as a kindness.

Deep in the heart of the desert, there is a storm. This, in and of itself, is not unusual; while the interior of the Dead Child has been stripped barren and left bare of life or vital essence, the rain and clouds walk paths that were ancient when the Arch-Heretic killed a god and took his prize. They remember the bloom of life that once existed, even if nothing else can.

But this storm is no ordinary storm. The tempest is hundreds of li across, an unceasing torrent of rain and thunder and lightning (so much lightning, electricity coming down in sheets and waves and in the shapes of men and gods, all with the intention to kill and kill and render the world barren and bare) that howls and rages and seethes.

A single drop of water, a single instant of lightning, is enough to break foundations and shatter pillars, killing instantly all who have not wrenched their eternities from heaven's grasp. Only those with a Dao are permitted to exist under these thunderclouds, and even then their minds and bodies and souls must wage an eternal war against the wrath of Heaven.

For all who exist within the storm impede the electricity and the rain and the thunder from reaching their hated enemies, and they will brook no obstructions against their holy mission.

After all, from the moment an Emperor created the mandate and built the Laws of the world, Lightning has ever and always been a foe to the Revenant Ghosts.

Death seeps out of the desert. A groaning swamp of blackened waters that run thick with the Qi of the underworld. Here, life exists in a pale imitation of its true self; gnarled trees claw out towards desiccated birds and rotting fish, black pools of ichor condense and twist as they darken the sands, raising those buried under the desert as shambling skeletons that drain the life from the living and the death from the dead, creating twisted liminal existences out of those unfortunate enough to cross their path.

But all of this is a backdrop to the true rulers and slaves of the swamp, the ghosts. The sheer essence of death choking the area thins the barrier between the material and the spiritual, allowing those wills with enough attachment and strength to manifest in the land of the living. Here they create wretched courts, the largest and strongest of these revenant wills ruling their lessers and prosecuting war against their fellows, battling beyond death and guarding their territories with the utmost ferocity, Revenant Lords of a fetid swamp, kings on a throne of shit and bone.

And their reward for struggling to the top? Their prize for becoming rulers of their kin, for achieving the highest heights they can reach? An eternity of warring against the lightning that rains down from on high.

It hates them, hates them with the fury of a thousand suns, with the force of a dead world and a shattered existence. It has no power anywhere else, no ability to project its force or slow the constant decline of its world. All the lightning can do is rain down and destroy this one swamp, these few ghosts. Maybe, if it tries hard enough, that will be enough.

Maybe not. Maybe the lightning has no hope. Maybe there will always be more ghosts, thinning the veil and breaking the Laws. Maybe this is all futile, and will never amount to anything anyways, so what's the point? Maybe this entire line of thought is meaningless, because lightning doesn't have emotions or thoughts.

It certainly doesn't matter to the ghosts. All they can see is an end to their existence. They managed to hold themselves together for this long, to struggle and fight to reach the living world again. Even if the swamp is a pale facsimile, it's still air that they breathe, mud and water that they fight in, fish and birds all around them. The wonders of life are only appreciable by those who have already died, and these Revenant Ghosts, while dead, are more alive than they've ever felt.

But the lightning rains down and it's trying to deny them what they've fought so hard and so desperately to achieve even a bare imitation of. Lightning doesn't just kill, it destroys, rending spirits apart and banishing ghosts to the void of oblivion. And it succeeds too. Ghosts die a second death, permanently removed from the cycle by the hateful touch of the heavens. But does it matter? If Revenant Ghosts are nothing but ancient wills that cannot learn and grow, is there anything left to kill?

Or are these just two damaged machines of broken systems, mindlessly destroying each other for no reason other than that it's in their nature? If neither of them are anything but automatons acting on age-old programming, is there any point to this conflict at all? Is there any reason for the lightning to rain down or for the ghosts to keep coming? Must the scorpion sting the frog in the river just because it is in his nature? And must the frog offer a ride to the scorpion, just because it is in theirs?

Is there any meaningful difference between the two systems? Do they hate each other because they're so alike, or because of what minor differences they have? Are they even capable of true hate, or are they only able to present a poor facade of emotion over unfeeling Qi?

Do any of these questions even matter?

Either way, they kill.

Either way, they die.

No amount of philosophy can prevent that, and no amount of questioning will save anyone below the realm of Nascent Soul from the force of this meaningless war. Regardless of the point of this battle, the results are the same. Great explosions of reactive Qi that atomize any being below Nascent Soul, adding their bodies to the lightning and their souls to the ghosts.

If a being was arrogant or suicidal enough to continue into such a death zone, even as a Nascent Soul, this is what they would see.

Deeper into the death zone, the lightning and ghosts become more and more potent. There is no rain after a certain point into the Calamity, lightning vaporizing it before it has a chance to fall, even as that same electricity begins to form into shapes. Great wild beasts and ruthless soldiers coalesce out of thunder and fall to the earth, lingering beyond their immediate impact to strike at the Revenant Lords within the vicinity before they dissipate.

Meanwhile, the Revenant Ghosts here are barely even wretched. The least among them would still be Lords in the outskirts, while the strongest among them are true Kings of the dead, regal and powerful, wielding weapons smelted from souls and wearing armor made of pure Will. Their masterful techniques and potent spells have not been diminished by their death, and the Yin Energy they release is the bane of lightning, smothering soldiers and beasts and bolts in darkened shadow and soothing death.

The cataclysms here are large and destructive enough to wound those who have stepped beyond the need for mortality, unbounded by human limitations and the laws of physics. Even those who have shattered their cores and risen from the ashes stronger than before have little defense against the shockwaves that flay body from mind from soul.

There are no records past this point. All who have pressed on beyond this point have vanished from the pages of this grand book of reality, never to step back onto the world stage.

But if one were to go further, a fool and hero beyond measure with determination only exceeded by their arrogance, this is what they would find.

Past the lakes of lightning and the towers of bone, past the Revenant Emperors on their bleak thrones and the barbaric spirits of Lightning that war and raid and kill Hungry Ghosts wearing the forms of dragons, past great altars of power and doom that pronounce utter calamity on their users' enemies, past fallen titans and dead gods, there is something different.

The first thing one would see, once they'd passed through the curtains of living thunder and the four gate guardians of Iron-Wrought Death, would be a hundred-handed god. The second thing one would see was peace.

The Eye of the Storm is a tranquil place, the only noise being the rushing of pure clear water into a great hole in the center. Initially, the first question on our hypothetical voyager's mind might be 'but what about the lightning?'. Indeed, there is no lightning anywhere in the Eye, the constant torrential downpour completely halted. This is where the hundred-handed god comes in.

If one was to look up while inside the Eye of the Storm, they would see an enormous muscular man with a hundred hands holding up the storm, preventing the lightning from destroying this paradise by catching almost every bolt and tossing it back to where it came.

This man is merely a projection, the Will of a corpse sitting at the bottom of an enormous hole, intertwined with mangrove roots.

This is the Bodhisattva Sitting Under the World Tree.

There are no legends that tell of his ascension or the creation of the storm or the swamp that surround him, or even how the World Tree grew. But if one listens to the howling of the wind and the crack of thunder, of the burbling of a brook and the sonorous music of the trees, they might glean a small portion of the truth.

A man walked through the desert one day, owning nothing but the clothes on his back and unarmed but for the plain steel saber at his hip. This we know for certain - the oldest of cacti still sing of his sharp blade and sharper soul. His walk was a slow one, stopping to take in the sights, to marvel over every dune, and to greet every stranger he met along the way.

Eventually however, the man found what he was looking for. A small oasis, in the center of which was a smaller island with a single mortal mangrove tree growing on it. All completely mundane, with not a hint of anything beyond ambient Qi on them.

The man looked upon the oasis and found it good, and he sat down under the roots of the Mangrove tree, cross legged and with his saber on his lap.

Then he began to sever his Karma from heaven and earth. This particular man had lived a difficult life, weighed down by the bonds and attachments he'd accrued through a lifetime of good deeds, and he had grown weary of his burdens.

He'd trained his entire life to be able to cut, first with a saber and then with a soul, and here and now, under the bodhi tree at the edge of the desert, the man began to sever his Karma threads, one by one by one.

The process was long and excruciating, each cut an attachment severed, a person losing all meaning to the man. Sometimes they begged and pleaded and groveled to be spared that severing, to continue to live undiminished and unharmed. Sometimes they nodded and simply let it happen. Sometimes they thanked him.

The man wasn't entirely sure which was worse.

Eventually however, all of his Karma had been cut off, and the man had removed all of his attachments. He could live the rest of his life out in peace and solitude, wanting for nothing and nobody wanting anything from him.

Naturally, that was when disaster struck.

Karma was a natural and necessary part of every being's existence, the bonds and attachment it brought being a requirement for life. Without that karma connection, the man's soul wasn't able to support him, and he began dying, inch by excruciating inch.

So, grasping out for any lifeline, any being from which he could derive a Karma Thread, the man forcefully bound himself to the Mangrove tree he was sheltering under.

It worked, and the man was safe for a time. But the man's Dao was one of Decisiveness and action, and going back on his previous deeds, no matter how necessary it was for his survival, spelled the end of his path, as his Core began to fracture under the weight of his transgressions.

But those who have formed their Cores and impaled themselves on divinity's razor edge have ever and always been the greatest minds of their eras. Even under these circumstances, weakened and half dead from karma severing and reconnection, the man was still able to act, one final chance to save himself.

So he did the only thing he could yet do, and called down the lightning.

I will not detail his tribulation here, for even the least and most uninteresting of tribulations would still have enough excitement, drama, and horror to fill an entire library. And this was the desperate challenge of one attempting to step into the second supremity, taking the shard of divinity embedded within his core and destroying it utterly to embody the power that he was discarding.

This is the type of tale that would not merely fill a library, but a people, a grand epic saga that defined an entire populace.

And even then, I am not able, in good faith, to begin the story of an event that has not concluded.

The Bodhisattva died aeons ago, not from the lightning or from fatigue, but simple old age, his earthly form becoming naught but a shell in which nothing resided.

But the tree, the mangrove that the man intertwined his fate with, still stands. And more importantly, the World Tree has become bound to the man's soul, beyond life and death, beyond the circle of Samsara. And through it, the man's will, already potent beyond belief through his studies as a Soul Artist, has persisted for millennia, an outstretched buddha facing the lightning above.

And the Bodhisattva Sitting Under The World Tree is neither fully alive nor fully dead, a liminal existence outside the wheel of Samsara.

And so the thunder booms and the lightning comes down, an enormous storm that has yet to cease, because the target of its ire has yet to fully die. And so the swamp bubbles and the ghosts crawl out, a gaping wound in the fabric of life and death that seeks to drag its quarry down into the Yellow Springs and put an end to this abomination. And over the long aeons, these broken machines have begun to target each other, each viewing the other as a hated enemy that aids their joint target in existing for another day.

It is sad in a way. The lightning and the ghosts have the same objective, the death of the Bodhisattva. And if they were intelligent enough to realize this, they might have already won, already succeeded in obliterating the Bodhisattva's existence and sending his soul to Samsara.

But the Turtle World deals in blind idiot gods, and their mindless loathing and perpetual programming has led to an outcome in which their target is perfectly suspended between two opposing forces, Yang of Destruction and Yin of Death, with enduring Life exactly in the middle.

So it has gone for millenia, as great powers rise and fall, as Nascent Souls war and die and challenge heaven. And so it will go for eternity, until the Turtle World dies and Heaven dies with it.

It seems that, at the end of all things, not even gods can escape their nature.

But, with cunning, patience, and audacity, we canny mortals just might be able to exploit it.

Origins

Does it really matter?

Whatever he was before he attempted his tribulation, it is dust in the wind. His great deeds are gone, his enemies and allies lost to the pages of history, his followers and descendants wiped out not by enemy action but simply by the inexorable march of time. A man's history is his connections to others and his impact on the world, and the Bodhisattva has neither bonds nor impact, not anymore. Indeed, he made sure of it, severing his Karma from the cycle of Samsara to create an existence without attachments, unlinkable to any outside force or entity, no matter how worthless.

But that being said, there are hints, for those who care to look. A cavern of shaped stones deep within the Verdant Plains whispers a haunting melody, of a boy who took up the saber. Not to kill or to injure or even to cut, but rather to protect his home from bandits. After being left for dead by a group of Blood Path Swordsmen, he left the burning ruins of his small village, and made a pilgrimage to a Great Saber to join a sect there. There the song ended, seamlessly transitioning into an account of a girl with a dragon-shaped scar and a variety of other local heroes.

A single sword buried in a mountain of long-dessicated corpses has its hilt inscribed with the tale of a brutal enemy, a young man who rose rapidly through the ranks of the 'Heart of the Divine Saber' and hunted down blood path rebels with no regard for his own life, paying particular attention to the Swordsmen among the Blood Path. He hunted them down one by one and broke their blades and then their bodies, piling a mountain of corpses in his wake. The story ends there, the hilt running out of room to carve anything else on.

What remains of the broken annals of the Seven Divine Saber Palace, concealed in fragments and scraps by the remnants of the sect, detail a Core Formation Elder over three millennia ago, who requested to go on a journey of meditation and enlightenment to suppress the blood-fueled heart devil within him. The leave of absence was granted after a duel to first blood with another Core Formation Elder, in which the first Elder handily won.

A primitive cave painting on the side of a cliff, protected from the elements by potent arts and a small but fanatical order of shrine keepers, details the account of a man who'd gone on a wandering voyage through the Plains, defeating evil and saving mortals without once ever drawing the saber concealed at his hip. The painting goes on to detail how the man's very gaze seemed as sharp as a sword, and his enemies were cut in both body and soul.

An ancient Cultivation Technique, a saga passed down through a lineage of wandering bards, sings the story of a great sword-eyed hero of the Seven Divine Saber Palace, an elder who repeatedly defied orders from his superiors in order to save mortals and weak cultivators from danger. The remnants of both the song and the lineage were cut clean through by a saber, but the story was intact enough to put back together, even if the last member of the lineage wasn't.

The migration patterns of a specific type of Spirit Antelope trace out a sigil, that, when committed to three sheets of paper and layered on top of itself, reveals the story of a defection from the Seven Divine Saber Palace, as one of the Palace's most powerful Core Formation Elders at the time simply walked off into the desert, in search of 'true enlightenment and freedom'. Only the threat of loss of face stayed the hands of their Nascent Souls from personally intervening.

And so, through rumor and hearsay and circumstantial evidence, we have one possible explanation for the Bodhisattva's origins. Or perhaps we have a jumbled attempt at putting various stories into a single canon and pretending that they refer to the same person. Ultimately, we can never know for certain.

Once more, however, I ask. Does it matter?

What benefit do we get from knowing for certain the history of a being who so desperately wants to be left alone that they attempted to sever their karma with all of heaven and earth? What right have we to pry into affairs that are none of our business, to write about things that do not concern us and are only created for and by our amusement?

The answer is none. And yet we do it anyways.

Dao

The Bodhisattva's Dao was and is a Dao of Decisiveness, granting him great power when fully committed to a course of action, but forbidding him from ever going back on that action. His mind could not be changed, his course could not be altered. All he could do was continue forward, ever and always, till ruin and the world's ending.

Techniques

Karma-Severing Soul Strike - The Bodhisattva, dead and alive and suspended between both as he may be, still holds the secret of severing Karma Threads. With a single twitch of his will, he is able to destroy the Karma between two beings utterly, turning them into strangers who feel absolutely nothing for each other. He has, at times, used this to scatter entire armies, routing them by severing their hatred for their opponents and their obedience to their superiors, a group of perfect strangers with nothing tying them to their conflict.

But. If all of an individual's Karma threads are fully severed, then they become akin to a blank void, a gaping wound of nonexistence that must be destroyed. The universe is defined by bonds of all stripes, and a being without those bonds is a threat to the fabric of reality itself.

Heaven takes care of that easily enough.

World Tree Holding Up The Heavens Method - The Bodhisattva is dead. But he is not. But he is partially dead. But regardless of the actual state of his existence, the Bodhisattva is unable to cultivate. Alone at least. This is where the World Tree comes in. As it sheltered the Bodhisattva beneath its roots, the World Tree, once only a simple Mangrove, began to grow and flow into the Bodhisattva's dead meridians, Qi-Conducive wood mixed with the cultivation channels of a human being to create a unique art.

The roots and branches of the World Tree are now the Bodhisattva's meridian channels, taking in Qi from the environment and using it to sustain the Will. This is, naturally, horrendously inefficient, but the sheer size of the world tree and the abundant energy in its pocket paradise allow it to sustain the Bodhisattva's cultivation of an Early Nascent-Adjacent Being and fuel their twin struggle against Tribulation.

Great Tathagata Projection - The Bodhisattva's soul, housed within his corpse and the World Tree, is not a static being. It may move, it may fight, it may learn and grow, albeit extremely slowly. All of this is thanks to the Great Tathagata Projection, an art that allows the Bodhisattva's soul to act freely, unafraid of the lightning that would normally be its bane. The art uses the natural energy of Heaven and Earth as well as the spirits in the area to create a thunder-resistant shell, capable of shielding a soul from its natural enemy.

The Bodhisattva's Projection is a Hundred-Handed War Buddha, a serene existence of unparalleled martial might and physical strength, able to disperse and collect tribulation lightning with its bare hands.

There were more of them, once. Then Green-Zen Mu, City of Moksha, sunk beneath the mountains. Now, this is all that remains.
 
Xiao Yingzi Extra 10 [Turn 6] [An Early Job]
Just a random thing I imagine early Yingzi might have encountered back when she was in her forties and was a wee legionary.

Xiao Yingzi Extra 10
[Turn 6]
[An Early Job]​

"Greetings, Captain Gurges."

"Xiao Yingzi, please. Just call me Vinicius." The old innkeeper replied, as he looked over the counter at the woman addressing him. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the manner of address. "I've already told you that I've retired."

"Once a part of the legion, you're always a part of the legion, Captain." Legionary Yingzi replied, giving him a slight bow. A salute would be improper for a retiree, but a show of deference was still appropriate towards a senior. "The least I can do is give you the respect you deserve."

"If you say so, kid." He said, shaking his head but no longer protesting. "So what are you doing down here anyway?"

"I'm here for the rats, sir." She told him, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

"They are finally sending you down to handle that, huh?" He asked curiously. "Guess you pulled the short straw."

"I was told that it is tradition for new aspirant to run this mission." She replied, before looking at him with curiosity. "And that I would get a bonus if I beat the current record. Could you tell me more about that?"

Vinicius Gurges considered that before giving her a conspiratorial smile. "Do you know what the current record is, Yingzi?"

She nodded in reply. "I believe it was half an hour." She answered. "Vinicius… sir, do you think I should attempt it?"

He grinned at her. "Normally, no." He answered, looking incredibly amused. "The Scribe Rats are terrible for someone of your level to deal with. However, there is a trick to it."

Xiao Yingzi's eyes sharpened. "I assume you would be willing to tell me this trick, Captain Gurges?"

He nodded at her. "Well, I like you. So yes." His smile undimmed, Vinicius grabbed a barrel of wine that he had set aside earlier and lifted it bodily, placed it over the counter and in front of her. "They really like this particular brand of wine. Toss it in first and you could waltz in fright after with nothing baring your way."

Xiao Yingzi looked between the retired captain and the barrel of wine. "And I can just… take it?" She asked, uncertain of the procedure.

The man's smile grew wider. "Well, I can't just give it to you. I have a business to run after all." The inn-keeper suddenly said, and then began to muse aloud. "And there is a sudden demand for this particular brand, so the price is higher than normal. But it should come around to about half of your bonus?"

Xiao Yingzi's eyes widened in understanding. "Of course, sir." She said, nodding at him. "As you can imagine however, I don't have that much on me for a moment. I will repay you as soon as I get paid."

Eyes shining, the retired captain nodded. "You'll go far, kid. You'll go far." Then, he placed a set of keys on the table. "These will unlock the basement - now here is what you need to do."

With instructions clear in her mind and the barrel under her hand, Xiao Yingzi walked down to the basement five minutes later. She walked quickly towards the basement and unlocked it with the keys, careful not to open the door fully. From the thing opening, she could hear the skittering inside as the creatures raised there began to move about in anticipation.

After a moment of waiting, during which the sounds of their movements began to die down, Xiao Yingzi suddenly began to act. She kicked open the door, causing the creatures inside to jump back with thumps and then she rolled the barrel of wine inside. If anything were to be caught in its path, they would be seriously injured and knowing this, the creatures backed off intuitively.

At that moment, she closed the door immediately and heard the barrel hit the far wall, shattering and spilling the wine on the floor. Again the skittering could be heard, the creatures inside raced after the spilling drink, attempting to lick up the wine before it was wasted.There was a hiss and a scuffle as two of them fought for access but it stopped before it escalated as the others took advantage of their distraction to take the place they had been fighting over.

Looking through the keyhole, Xiao Yingzi saw the area in front of the barrel completely filled with rats the size of men crowding around in the hopes of gaining the wine. Two of them - the ones who had begun to fight - stood to the side, their moment of distraction causing them to lose the chance to secure even a drop. Instead they seemed to have given up, moving off to the side with aggrieved looks on their faces as they glanced longingly at the barrel of wine.

She looked around the room, which was empty save for a table in the back and several shelves of books lining the walls. Frowning as the two rats stood upon their hind-legs, she saw them move towards the table, upper body drooping as if defeated. This wouldn't do - she remembered the innkeeper's words - all of them had to be subdued or they would attack her or worse, attempt to escape.

Glancing to the side, she saw that the rest at least had relaxed and lay unmoving on the ground. After a moment, Xiao Yingzi realized that further hesitation would only lead to being unable to finish in time and land her in a debt that would take time to pay off. Taking a breath, she moved into the basement and used the moment of surprise from the gate opening to create an opening. The two rats blinked as the light from the outside suddenly hit their eyes and ignoring her completely, they made towards the door.

Picking up a plate that had been licked clean on the ground, Xiao Yingzi tossed it at the creature, hitting it in the face. The creature's eyes went wide in shock as it tried to bat the plate away, suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Picking up another plate, she threw it at the other rat, missing it by inches but as it went to flee Xiao Yingzi tripped it, causing it to fall over and begin to slink away.

As the two began to back away and gather courage before engaging again, she took the opportunity to go over the table. Looking at the papers in it, she picked up both the original papers granted to the rats and the copies they had been coerced to make in return for food. She closed the drawer abruptly and ran out of the room. Before the rats could react to her sudden dash, the door of the basement closed behind her.

Quickly, she locked it tight and then, ignoring the frenzied scratching at the door, she went back to the inn-keeper who looked at her with interest. "Five minutes." He replied, shaking his head. "Not bad for a newbie."

Xiao Yingzi smiled as she slung the documents underneath her hand. "Thank you for the help, Captain. I will have your side of the bonus sent to you by the evening."

"Don't worry about it." The man replied, shaking his head with a smile. "I'll have my payment delivered to me as usual."

Xiao Yingzi paused at that and turned back to him with a frown. "Was this a test…?" She asked, looking at him with suspicion. She had considered the possibility, but…

"Would I tell you if it were?" Captain Gurges asked, looking at her curiously.

"I don't know." Xiao Yingzi admitted. "If it were a test, then did I pass?"

"If it were a test, and I'm not saying it is but if it were…" He told her, causing her to nod along with his explanation. "What makes you think that it's the kind of test you pass or fail?"

She frowned at him in confusion, before her eyes widened in understanding. "I see." She said, clasping her hands and bowing, careful not to drop the documents she was holding. "Thank you for the wisdom you have given me."

The man just smiled and waved her off.
 
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Zhong 1 - Murderous Menagerie #001: Despair

Murderous Menagerie #001: Despair


Welcome, students. As any person in the Organ Meat Desert is well aware, the entire region is less than strictly habitable, at least from any conventionally sane point of view. Above and beyond the unrivalled dearth of ambient Qi, residents have to contend with a myriad of hyper-lethal Spirit Beasts, natural environments whose hostility ranges from 'mild hell' to 'haha, Nascent Souls go bzzt', and historic infestations and raids of superpowered cannibals.

Even still, whether by choice or circumstance, countless millions of people claim the wastes as home. Most of them do so defensively, gathering together in cities and other large settlements, huddling 'safely' away from the murderous menageries roaming outside of the walls. For trips into the dangers of the wilderness, inhabitants often rely on comprehensive knowledge of local dangers, inherited and built over countless generations and paid for, as always, in rivers of blood.

It may thus be considered both surprising and not that one of the most common, widespread, and dangerous threats of the desert is almost entirely unknown to much of the populace. Our first topic of this class, Desert Despair Devils are particularly insidious for quite a number of interconnected reasons, with each factor compounding upon the others to inadvertently maintain their relative anonymity.

First and foremost, Desert Despair Devils are entirely spiritual entities, being both entirely intangible and almost entirely invisible. As such they can only reliably be harmed by cultivators, though even the weakest Qi-laden attack is sufficient to drive them off. Sadly, this ostensible frailty often ends up being utterly irrelevant in the vast majority of cases, as will be explained shortly.

The second entangled problem entails who they hunt, or rather what they hunt for. Perhaps somewhat predictably, Desert Despair Devils hunt for persons traveling the desert while in weakness and despair; the greater the despair, the greater their attraction. Some sources even claim that they are originally born from the souls of despairing travellers who themselves collapsed and succumbed to exposure, but this is at best unverified.

Regardless, it is here then that we observe the first inadvertent interaction between physiology and behavior which makes them so dangerous: while Despair Devils are creatures of base instinct and do not possess anywhere near the level of intelligence to consciously avoid cultivators who would be able to slay them, they nonetheless manage to do so by consequence of simple demographics. For you see, even the weakest cultivator is many times less likely to attract a Despair Devil in the first place compared to a mortal, owing to their superior physical constitution and mental fortitude. The rarer, more powerful cultivators, meanwhile, often overwhelm and deter the entities through their simple presence. Furthermore, even in the not uncommon event that a cultivator is in such dire straits to attract one, they usually tend to have much more immediate and physical concerns at that point, which are far more likely to spell their doom than a mere Despair Devil. Indeed, many cultivators who survive such encounters often mistakenly attribute them to simply some part of other enemies' attacks.

One might then assume that at least mortal travelers in caravans guarded by cultivators should be reasonably safe and secure against Desert Despair Devils, and yet this is not always certain either. This has to do with the third major factor in their lethality: the precise manner in which they attack and feed upon their prey. Despair Devils hunt exclusively at night, invading the dreams of their victim, trapping them in never-ending nightmares of endless sand, using the resulting despair as a method and a pathway to drain away the victim's very soul. This takes only about an hour in real time, and there has only been a single recorded case of a mortal surviving without intervention.

This entire process is, unfortunately, not at all conspicuous to the average outside observer. Only particularly perceptive cultivators might have the ability to notice, and those few who might usually don't know they should be looking in the first place. And thus, a group of dozens or even hundreds might simply wake up one morning to discover that one or two of their number have passed on during the night, with none suspecting of them anything amiss. Especially since the most likely targets tend to be the ill and infirm, who are already the weakest and most susceptible to succumbing to the environment anyway.

Due to all of these interlocking factors, as well as widespread public ignorance and the general lethality of the rest of the desert, it is very difficult to accurately estimate just how many deaths and disappearances in the desert are caused by Desert Despair Devils each year. We thus rely mostly on population density surveys conducted on them every decade, using specially designed despair-emitting spiritual lures to attract all of the Devils in a certain region so that we may count them... and then exterminate them, of course. Worryingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, the Despair Devil population density has more than doubled in recent decades, ever since the advent of the Blood Mist.
 
Zhong & Antonius: Fishing in the Lethe

Zhong & Antonious: Fishing in the Lethe


Another day, another morning. Even after two years here, Zhong still wasn't used to the Golden Devil Clan. Like, they had all the normal shit his old city had, but then every so often he would just run into something - or more often someone - really wacky, just walking down the street. He was getting better about not literally running into people, though; running into those tanned people really hurt.

Today, instead, it seemed like the newest oddity to jog him out of the mindless trance of his daily run would be a surprising lack of people to run into. This training ground usually had at least some people around practicing their attacks and the like, which made for decent dodge training, but right now there was no-one in sight. In fact, the only thing around at all was a weird bronze statue just sat out in the middle of the field.

…Why was there a statue out in the middle of the field? Why was it clothed?

Was… was this one of those weird hidden tests the other trainees kept swearing were real?

Pfft, yeah right. Zhong knew tall tales and bluster when he heard them. 'Oh, I totally saved this gorgeous woman from a runaway cart, but it turned out to be an old man in disguise!' Sure man, sure. At least he could simply admit he had no class.

As he stepped towards the statue, however, Zhong started to feel… something. It was familiar, or at least part of it was. A bottomless river, or the desert at night - a cold, inexorable certainty.

The important part, though, was that it was cold, and he was hot. So he did the expedient and logical thing, and draped himself across it.

"Junior, may I ask why you have accosted me during my meditation?" A voice came suddenly, and Zhong looked to see the eyes of the statue were open, looking down on him in curious amusement.

"Oh." Zhong froze in place in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature, his normally unflappable demeanor utterly failing him for once. Hell, when in doubt, double down. "Um, hey there Boss. Sorry 'bout that. Was just running, and it's pretty hot and all, but then you were all cold and shit. Hope you don't mind."

"I see." The statue replied, looking down at him seemingly unimpressed. However, a quirk of his lips showed that he still found the situation more amusing than annoying. "Well, I don't mind so long as you keep a respectable distance."

"R-right, right." Zhong bounded backwards a few steps, plopping down onto his butt with all the grace and care of a drunk scorpion. "So… why do you feel like a river, anyhow?"

"That is because I am a river." The river explained patiently, eyes closing as he returned to his meditations. Once more his lips seemed to quirk in amusement, but after a moment it was replaced with a look of absolute seriousness. "Why wouldn't I feel like one?"

Zhong pondered this profundity for a minute, before nodding. "...So, like, do you have any fish?"

"Here you go." With a flick of his wrist, a fish materialized in front of the legionary, complete with a metal dish and utensils, sizzling hot as if ready to eat. "Anything else, junior?" The tone of his voice seemed to have an edge of challenge, as if daring him to name a request he couldn't fulfill.

"Huh. Yeah, you definitely feel like a river, and you have fish." Zhong accepted the dish and promptly started eating. He paused for a few seconds, carefully percolating his next question. "Does that mean that you can't move backwards?"

"I'm a magic river." The bronze river replied, as if that explained everything. "I can do anything."

"I see." Zhong replied. And he did see. "In that case, where will you go?"

The bronze river actually opened his eyes at that, looking at him as if wondering why he needed to even ask that question. "Wherever I want." He said, as if that was the only possible answer in the world. Shaking his head, the bronze river returned to his meditation, once more feeling like a river and the eventual death of all things.

Zhong hummed in response, nodding, his smile growing a bit wider and easier. "I see. Thank you for the fish, Boss River." He paused, fishing through his pockets for a second before pulling out a pair of stark white dice, which he laid down upon the now-empty plate. "Don't dry up too soon now, yeah?" With that said, Zhong promptly laid down and quickly fell asleep.

When he awoke, the river was gone, save for a pile of giant fish bones.
 
Katha Theodoros X4 - A Report on House Theodoros, circa. 280 E.K.
Katha Theodoros X4 - A Report on House Theodoros, circa. 280 E.K.

Stratopedarches,

I hope this report finds you in confidence. The full census for the many Houses of the Clan, young and old alike, will require additional work owing to some lackadaisical foolishness amongst some of those tasked, so instead I am presenting this excerpt ahead of time for your perusal, following my own studies into the fate of my relatives after the death of Protostrator Nagaeon Theodoros. I hope you will forgive the temerity of this junior, for I do believe that insight into the politics happening between the former Branches of the Vanguard will prove enlightening.

Rest assured that the politicking happening between my relatives will have no impact on the Clan's efforts during the next twenty years. There has been an unofficial 'freeze' on efforts to reestablish the old Vanguard as all available resources are put towards the next incursion by the Fifth Sea. The process itself, however, has been slow going, though I would emphasise that it will do little to affect the resources of the Clan, albeit for different reasons; there simply aren't very many Vanguard left.

The rest of the census will be on your desk within the week. I will make sure Xiaolin finishes her part of the Blighted Lands survey in time, by hook or by crook, or I will have her mohawk. Unless you would prefer to do the honours?

Regards,

Hestia Lycurgeos


----

Foreword:
Once, House Theodoros was one of the Great Houses of the Clan. An old family, with ancient legacies dating back to the days of the Sea-Conquering Army, they were famed and feared for their prowess in battle and their ironclad discipline. This, anyone who has delved our histories would know. Just as they would know of their fall from grace and imminent decline.

In recent times, the decline appears to have reversed for the Main House, and it appears that the former Branches are following suit as well. But make no mistake: House Theodoros is hardly in any position to take advantage of the prosperity of the Great Era. Its scions are too few, its Cultivators too weak. It is sad but certain that a family that once could staff the billets of an entire Legion would barely fill up a Century right now, but it does mean that it is highly unlikely for House Theodoros, even were it to reform, to have any particularly great impact on the power of the Clan. Though, the power of the Blood of Iron and its resurgence cannot be dismissed, either.


House Theodoros - Vanguard of the Legion

Their Overview:
All know of the fearsome reputation of the Theodoroi of old. The Iron Legions of old, dating back to when the Clan ruled from the mountains, were the principle striking arm of the Clan, and the loss of that institutional knowledge with their decline contributes to Protostrator Sheng Yu's current headaches by no small amount. All also know of their recent resurgence - or at least of young Katha Theodoros' many escapades, as well as the current grievous state of her injuries. These details obfuscate the truly dire nature of their position.

Their Situation:
While House Theodoros is nominally still the head branch of the former Great House, they are by far the most numerically and inferior branch of the family, only relevant due to their stewardship of the family's old estates and records as well as the continued martial excellence of its scions.

House Theodoros, at the moment, is merely eight members six of them scions of the Iron-Blooded, three of those but children. Of the remaining three, two are Experts - one in the Great Circle and the other still newly ascended - and the third is a Disciple, powerful but ultimately still irrelevant until her own Ascension - something that can no longer be considered a sure thing.

While the strength of a House remains in their strongest grade of Cultivator - and through that lens they are not doing poorly at all - the problems that House Theodoros do not end there. All already know of the grave injuries suffered by their most famous scion. Though her bravery is not at all in question, her continuing utility very much is. And with the permanent loss of an eye, even were she to recover again it is uncertain whether she would ever excel like she did before. Katha Theodoros had been crippled once before already, and her recovery was nothing short of miraculous. Expecting her to repeat that feat is unreasonable in the extreme. Not for a family so unfortunate.

The problems continue. Rathos Theodoros, another similarly brilliant scion and the expected Heir, is currently missing. His children are all missing, for one reason or another, ensuring no continuity of lineage through him, and his wife - Marlissa Quintia, a scion of a branch of the Great House Quintia, herself no small talent - is missing as well. Functionally, House Theodoros numbers only three; Tormenos Theodoros, Katha Theodoros, and Shu Enya, a Disciple of no great talent who will soon die of natural causes.

The name Theodoros is old and influential, and the deeds of both Tormenos and Katha, to say nothing of all their predecessors who have since died, are great and multitudinous indeed. But a single Foundation Establishment Expert and a crippled Qi Condensation Junior do not a House make.

There are other political factors in play as well. All know of Saria Duca, one of the newly risen Silverlords of the Clan. What is less known, though by no means secret, is that Saria is the second daughter of Tormenos, the less talented sister to the late Riala Theodoros. Tormenos' decision to marry Saria off to the Duca was considered controversial even then, though the other families kept their peace, but now that she has become the first of the Theodoroi to reach Core Formation in a thousand years, yet has entirely rejected that side of her legacy, it has become another knife in Tormenos' efforts to unify the House under him and the main branch. What had once been a quiet shame has now become total outrage, and it is hardly certain if anyone else who claims ancestry from the Iron-Blooded will ever reach Core Formation, even in this exceptional time.

Nevertheless, there remain some factors in Tormenos' favour. His service in the Legions, though many decades past at this point, is the most distinguished of all the Vanguard Houses, and while he is not the only Expert in the Great Circle he is certainly the most powerful of them. No small thing, especially for a family that values martial accomplishments as strongly as the Vanguard do. He is also an Array Engineer of no small talent, enough to have been a capable Centurion of the 3rd Legion Farflung Death, and help in maintaining the Glass Spear Array that polices our borders and territories.

In addition, it is still clear to everyone that House Theodoros, while the most numerically inferior of the Vanguard Houses, remains the most qualitatively superior of them all. Not only is Tormenos the strongest of the Vanguard at present, Rathos Theodoros is not far behind, and they are the first of the Houses to reawaken the Blood of Iron. And were Katha Theodoros to successfully ascend to Foundation Establishment, there is little doubt that she would be a terrifyingly potent Single Pillar King.

Their Status:
As stated above, at the moment House Theodoros numbers only Eight members, of which only Six bear the blood of the Vanguard; Shu Enya, the father of Katha and Rathos, and Marlissa Quintia, the mother of Mia, Evander and Alistair, do not have any Vanguard ancestry, Shu inducting into the Clan from common stock and Marlissa hailing from a branch of the Great House Quintia. Of the six descendants, Three are still mortal by the reckoning of the census, all children; One is a Qi Condensation Junior; and Two are Foundation Establishment Experts. House Theodoros has No Core Formation Elders; though Saria Duca has ancestry, she has rejected all ties to her old family and as such does not qualify under this census. Considering the family's noted circumstances, the rise of another is considered possible, but unlikely.

House Theodoros is the first to have awoken the Blood of Iron, though its first emergence went unnoticed. Given the signs in some of their new generation, it seems clear that the Blood still flows strongly in them, despite everything. Though, there may be signs that the Blood of Iron was never truly bred out of them; the Damascus Crucible Constitution, as they called a fusion of the Bronze and Iron, has reappeared time and time again, last in the late Riala Theodoros.

Financially House Theodoros is still in dire straits, though better than they were a century ago. Their primary holding is a Small Spirit Stone Mine on the outskirts of Emporikopolis. They have no Legions to their name, no Waycastles, and administer no towns or villages. A far cry from the Theodoroi of old, the disparity frustrates them - and us - to no end. However, with the added incomes of another Expert and a powerful Disciple, up until recent events the Main House was doing the best they have been since Nagaeon died.

Their Notables:
Katha Theodoros needs no introduction. She is one of the star talents of this generation of the Clan, even rising into the Thirteenth Heavenstage despite her injuries at the hands of the Yuan Bandit, Hou Ju. Badly crippled, missing an eye, her meridians burst and her dantian boiled, it would take a miracle for her to survive the coming Trials.

Rathos Theodoros is the elder twin brother of Katha, another talent of the Clan if not as dramatically as his sister. He currently stands in the 1-Pillar (Early) Stage of Foundation Establishment after ascending from the Tenth Heavenstage. Currently cultivating with the Whirlpool Yin Art, granting him a female body. The appointed heir to Tormenos, he is currently missing in the Qiguai Secret Realm, his survival unknown.

Tormenos Theodoros is the great-grandson of Nimian Theodoros, the heir of the Last Elder, Nagaeon. Standing in the 7-Pillar (Great Circle) Stage of Foundation Establishment, he is currently the strongest Cultivator amongst the Vanguard Houses. With the disappearance of one heir and the crippling of the other, he is also currently the only Cultivator from House Theodoros to have Vanguard ancestry capable of fighting.


House Agamennos - Children of Greatness

Their Overview:
House Agamennos is the oldest of the Theodoroi's branches, in many regards a fully independent House that simply claims the same heritage as House Theodoros. Even before the Theodoroi fragmented, the Agamennoi often competed against the Main House in all manner of deeds, martial and cultural, but in those days the competition was friendly and their loyalties ironclad. There would be no disagreement between the Vanguard, and all would march to the same cadence.

Today, however, the Agamennoi are perhaps the most successful of the Vanguard Houses by far, with wealthy holdings and numerous scions to their name, dwarfing the modern Main House by an order of magnitude. Of late, House Agamennos has been agitating the hardest of all the Vanguard Houses to reestablish the Great House, with themselves at the head.

Their Situation:
House Agamennos is a wealthy and well-equipped House in its own right, administering many lands and contributing many resources to the welfare of the Clan. As the most numerically superior of the Vanguard Houses and the second most senior and affluent, they also consider themselves more than capable of leading the Theodoroi into a new age under better leadership.

In Cultivators alone, it is clear that House Agamennos is highly capable, with thirty three Qi Condensation to their name and six Foundation Establishment, two thirds of that number bearing Vanguard ancestry. These are all tasked to renowned Legions, well equipped with Gravebronze Panoply and many Treasures to maximise their strength. Every member of House Agamennos is also a crafter of some skill, and are encouraged to maximise their abilities where possible.

The secret to Agamennoi wealth, however, lies in their close relationship with the Hong Xuan Clan. They are but one of the many contacts the Hong Xuan have with the Clan, but they enjoy good relations with the Vassals, a number of them even joining the ill-fated Hong Xuan Expedition and surviving to return home. House Agamennos has even acquired lands in the Burnished Crags to develop in order to better trade with the Hong Xuan, exporting their goods further into Clan territories and to other vassals.

Yet, Agamennos is not without critics. Their broader focus has often lead to accusations of cowardice and greed, and it must be said that though they have far more Cultivators than any of the other Vanguard Houses, they also have some of the fewest military accomplishments to their name. This has lead to claims that Agamennos would happily let their kin die to line their own pockets, a direct insult to the heritage they claim justifies their right to lead.

In addition, there are rumours that the Agamennoi are jockeying for position in the midst of the unofficial 'freeze' in the politics of reunification, not quite pushing their agenda but also committing resources to supporting their agenda rather than prepare for the next Centennial Trial.

Nevertheless, it is hard to disagree that House Theodoros does need a capable leader, and Agamennos is, if nothing else, capable of leading them away from destitution and certain extinction. They are the only one of the Vanguard Houses to have largely staved off attrition into nothingness, with their numbers still declining but much more slowly than their fellows. It remains to be seen whether the rumours surrounding Agamennos are true or not.

Unusually, House Agamennos has not had any Scions who have awoken the Blood of Iron, though it is likely only a matter of time.

Their Status:
House Agamennos numbers One Hundred members, of which Eighty bear the blood of the Vanguard. It counts under its banner Thirty Three Qi Condensation, Twenty Three of whom are Scions of the Vanguard, and Six Foundation Establishment, including Four of the Vanguard. In every category, House Agamennos is the most numerous of the Vanguard, and in addition they also have the only other Great Circle Foundation Establishment Expert in the Vanguard Houses; Jastion Agamennos, the Patriarch of House Agamennos. Statistically, it is highly likely that the next Core Elder with Theodoroi ancestry to rise will come from House Agamennos, but only time will tell, given that they, too, have failed to raise one ever since Nagaeon died - and even since before him, given Nagaeon belonged to the Main House alone.

Financially, it is no contest. House Agamennos are famed for being capable merchants and fine craftsmen in addition to the discipline and bravery of their warriors, and have managed many holdings well over the centuries. They own numerous small Spirit Stone Mines, oversee Territories within the Burnished Crags, and own exclusive contracts with some families of the Hong Xuan Clan.

Their Notables:
Jastion Agamennos is the Patriarch of House Agamennos, and has reached Foundation Establishment 7-Pillar (Great Circle). A capable crafter and a shrewd businessman, in recent years House Agamennos has grown wealthy and influential under him, and has been able to use those Contribution Points to further expand their sphere of influence. He has been the primary agitator for Theodoroi reunification under House Agamennos.


House Dianeid - Seekers of Truth

Their Overview:
House Dianeid are the only Branch of the Vanguard to still have the name and deeds of their progenitor, Diana Theodoros, who had the epithet of The Just. In the days of the Theodoroi, Diana and her heirs would be the Adjudicators of the crimes of the Iron Legions; it is under them that the harsh methods of punishment described in the surviving manuals and writings of Vanguard Protostrators were written down, and it was by their hand that these punishments were meted out. Yet, they did not do so out of cruelty, but in the name of fairness.

Given what we know now, the brutality of Theodoroi punishments might just be because their bodies are simply that tough.

In the days since the Theodoroi fractured, however, they have done their best to live up to Diana's example as The Just, and have proven to be incorruptible and fair-minded Cultivators, protecting mortals and punishing criminals and Cannibals in all corners of the Organ Meat Desert. The martial talent of the Dianei are well known, and their current Matriarch, Valeria Dianeid, is currently serving as one of Protostrator Sheng Yu's aides, assisting in the training of the Clan's Offensive Legions.

They are the second most numerous of the Vanguard Houses, but are largely uninterested in the reestablishment of the Great House. As such, they are a major wildcard in the proceedings, possibly even being a kingmaker's position.

Their Situation:
House Dianeid has never had the strength to challenge the Main House militarily, nor have they ever tried to do so; their role as Adjudicators and Law Keepers of the Vanguard have always lent them a strong position, and a heavy responsibility to go with it. Their martial prowess is not to be underestimated, however; the Dianeid have the second most impressive roll of honours amongst all the Vanguard Houses, after the Theodoroi themselves, and their Scions take their study of War very seriously.

This, naturally, has put the Dianeid naturally at odds with not only Blood Path Cannibals, not merely the criminals that are regularly culled within Clan territories but especially any Clansmen who have fallen to the use of such methods. Those who succumbed to the Blood Mist are held in contempt, with only a modicum of respect reserved for those who promptly paid for their lapse in judgement with their own deaths, and the Dianei make it a point to hunt down former Clansmen who have gone rogue to sate their hunger for Blood Qi. Even those who use Blood Path methods without falling prey of the Curse - and only on the deserving - find themselves the subject of their scorn. For this reason, they often find Single Pillar Kings disagreeable, for reasons they cannot quite place.

The Dianei also disagree with many of the more distasteful practices of the Clan, in particular the use of Poison in battle. The Iron-Blooded in general disdained the use of Poison, and Poison Cultivators have a special place of disdain in the Vanguard, but the Dianei take this dislike to a whole new level. They find such methods distasteful in the extreme, and even if they do not deny their effectiveness are ill-inclined towards their use unless absolutely necessary.

Their Status:
House Dianeid has Forty Eight members, Thirty of whom have Vanguard ancestry. Of these, nineteen are Qi Condensation, Thirteen scions, as well as three Foundation Establishment Experts, Two of whom bear traces of the Blood of Iron. As the second most numerous of the Vanguard Houses, House Dianeid tragically does not have anyone in the Great Circle of Foundation Establishment; their last such died in the 200 E.K. Trials, a hundred years ago, one of the unfortunate few to have done so.

Notably, House Dianeid has awoken the Blood of Iron in its scions, the most recent to do so.

Financially, House Dianeid hunts Bandits and administers a number of villages in the Uncast Molds. They are not as wealthy as House Agamennos, but are wealthy enough that they can sustain their number of Cultivators as well as equip them sufficiently. Their study of War makes them valuable for the Department of War as well, especially given Protostrator Sheng Yu's more aggressive posture.

Their Notables:
Valeria Dianeid is the Matriarch of house Dianeid, a Foundation Establishment 3-Pillar Cultivator. She is aide to the Protostrator and the most militarily talented member of the Vanguard thus far, going so far as to raise a Dao Pillar of War. Paradoxically, she relishes peace, and fights for the sake of putting an end to War, though she does not believe it is possible in her lifetime.

Maximilian Dianeid is the first of the Dianeid to be born with the Blood of Iron, demonstrating great strength, speed and toughness alongside the tirelessness written of the Iron-Blooded. Still young and in the 6th Heavenstage, he is expected to Ascend after the end of the Trials.


House Charos - Midnight Sentinels

Their Overview:
House Charos were always different from the rest of the Vanguard. Their bodies, though forged from Iron from the stars just like the rest of their kind, were not as indomitable or enduring as those of their kin. They could not fight on the frontlines, fight ten men at a time, throw aside killing blows and dare to ask for more. But what they were was tireless, to an extent that astounded even the tireless Vanguard. It was said that those of Charos had little need for food or shelter, that they could pursue targets for months at a time without pause, that they could hold their breath for eons. Of statues that would come to life to strike down their target, decades after they had been passed from one purveyor to another, apparently nothing but a curio.

They were House Charos. The Midnight Sentinels. They who did not tire, who struggled for nothing but purpose and who hungered not for food but for the death of their enemies. And it was they who would complement the Eyes and bring the fury of the Legion upon those marked for death by the Imperator.

That was then. Now, House Charos is like any other. Bronze, enduring, knowing little fatigue but less of strength as well. But while they have gotten the deeds of their progenitor and the duties they once performed, never has Charos forgotten the purpose they were made for. Even today, Charos works closely with the Department of Intrigue, and are some of Xie Xinya's most favoured spies for long term infiltrations, where it was possible. With the advent of the Blood of Iron within their ranks, their newfound lighter complexion may make them even more viable for such sensitive missions.

Their Situation:
House Charos is doing well. Not great, but not terrible either. That has ever been the case for their family, which had never been particularly numerous even in the days of the Vanguard's zenith, but even today after untold hardship, they are neither the most blessed nor the most cursed of the Vanguard Houses. They have suffered, they have toiled, and they have known small occasions of fortune. That is and remains the state of House Charos' affairs.

Not especially numerous, House Charos has an unusually large number of scions who have ancestry to the Iron Legionnaires of old, but surprisingly few Cultivators. This is simply the state of affairs; House Charos, like other Houses focused on providing intelligence services to the Clan like House Theophylaktos, maintains strong networks of informants bound by blood and familial ties. House Charos, however, suffers from the same struggle with Tribulation that all Vanguard Houses do, and without the same strength and endurance of its scions it has to be selective with the ones it does focus upon.

As a result, despite having an astounding seventy scions to its name, the Charoi have only ten Qi Condensation Legionnaires to their name, and only one Foundation Establishment Expert. Part of this is due to the Blood Mists; though House Charos' scions largely withstood the blood hunger, it suffered somewhat to those who did succumb, losing some Juniors. However, it customarily only has one Expert at a time, for various reasons. With the return of the Blood of Iron into House Charos, however, it may soon be time for the resurgence of the House to begin.

Politically, House Charos is close allies with the Main House, both due to a disdain for and rivalry with House Agamennos as well as having a closer relationship with the Patriarch of the Theodoroi, but ultimately the reason is due to loyalty. House Charos believes that if the Theodoroi are to return in full, then they should do so as they were, not in some unknowable shape that would shame their ancestors.

Their Status:
House Charos has Eighty members, among them Seventy Scions; of its Thirteen Qi Condensation, Ten have Iron-Blooded ancestry, and its Sole Expert is of the Vanguard. It is unlikely that the next Core Elder will come from House Charos, but they are currently firmly in the middle as far as numbers and power are concerned; they have not the honours of the Theodoroi or Dianei, but they have not the wealth of the Agamennoi either.

More importantly, House Charos is the first family to have reawoken the Blood of Iron after House Theodoros itself, and their Iron-Blooded Scion, Skander, is a great talent indeed, having risen into the Tenth Heavenstage in eighty years, not far behind the famed Katha herself.

Their Notables:
Tarsun Charos, Patriarch of House Charos, stands at Foundation Establishment 2-Pillar. Recently ascended, he seeks to better understand the Blood of Iron, and collaborates frequently with the Theodoroi, assisting him in his research and exchanging notes regularly. But where the past nature of the Vanguard often horrifies Tormenos, it fascinates Tarsun.

Skander Charos, first of the Iron-Blooded after Katha Theodoros, stands in the Tenth Heavenstage and is expected to Ascend right after the Trials. Bearing an unusual variant, Skander lacks some of the incredible strength and endurance of the customary Blood of Iron, but has sharply reduced need for sleep or even basic sustenance, in excess of a Cultivator of his Great Realm.


House Lycurgeos - Iron Oathkeepers

Their Overview:
House Lycurgeos once administered to the laws and rites of the Vanguard. They managed the oaths the Vanguard took, recorded the traditions they lived by, and collected the tithes that the Clan needed. In the old days, they took this duty seriously, never taking too little or too much. All would give their fair share, and the Lycurgeoi made sure of it, even of themselves. To them, graft was heresy, punishable by death.

In the modern day, death is much of what they know. Not doing well even prior to the Blood Mists, they of all the Vanguard Houses suffered in the aftermath. Many of their Cultivators and even some of their scions fell to the Bloodhunger, consuming those around them. In the aftermath, Lycurgeos was left with nothing - and if nothing is done for them soon, they will become nothing.

Their Situation:
When the Blood Mist descended, many of their Cultivators were still patrolling the desert, and enough proved susceptible to the hunger that they began to consume one another. When the haze finally lifted and they returned to their senses, the shame that filled them drove them to claim their own lives, to ensure that their blighted existences would stain their family no longer. Unfortunately for them, they were only partially successful.

Unique amongst the Vanguard Houses, Lycurgeos suffered greatly from the Blood Mist, not from the attacks they suffered but from their own lack of will. This proved unforgivable, particularly in the eyes of House Dianeid, who disdain those that would fall to the Blood Path even under coercion. While amongst the other Branches there were sympathetic ears, the disdain of the Dianei made associating with them in the aftermath of the Mist all but impossible, lest one face Dianei judgement, and so the Lycurgeos were simply never able to recover.

Suffering greatly, the Lycurgeoi no longer have Experts to their name. They hardly even have Disciples; without resources, it is difficult for them to raise new Scions, and the fact that they like the Agamennoi have failed to produce even a single Scion aligned with the Iron has only continued to make them pariahs in the eyes of the rest of their family, without the resources of the Agamennoi to make up for it. As a result, they are falling in line with House Agamennos in their desperation for resources and allies alike, and they are the Agamennoi's primary allies in their efforts to become the new Main House of the Theodoroi.

Their Status:
Suffering greatly, there are only Thirty Lycurgeoi, all of them Iron-Blooded; those who were not have either abandoned the family or perished in the Mist. Of these, only Eight are Qi Condensation, all scions as well for the same reason. Of these, there is only one who has reached the Ninth Heavenstage; the current Patriarch, Galan Lycurgeos, himself a nephew of the previous Patriarch, who struggles to face Tribulation.

Financially, the Lycurgeoi are in more dire straits than all but the Theodoroi themselves; they still have their holdings, a village in the Uncast Molds that grows spirit herbs, and still have ample reserves to rely upon, but these reserves will soon run dry and will mean nothing in the face of the Trials. In light of these struggles, there is little wonder that they are turning to the Agamennoi. The children of House Lycurgeos also typically serve the Department of Administration, for such matters come easily to them, and they were renowned as the least bellicose of the Vanguard in times past - a reputation that does them little good now.

House Lycurgeos has produced none who bear the Blood of Iron, a matter of no small distress to them.

Their Notables:
Galan Lycurgeos is the current Patriarch of the House by dint of survival and seniority, despite his young age compared to the other House Heads. In the Ninth Heavenstage, he is ready for Tribulation, but worries about his ability to succeed, especially with the Trials on their way. He knows that the reunification of the Great House is the only way that House Lycurgeos will survive at all, and has thrown his full support behind reunification, no matter the cost.


The Conclusion:
Separated as they are, the surviving Vanguard are largely ineffectual on a large scale, their only ability to influence the affairs of the Clan done through the efforts of individual talents, which the Main House has a monopoly over - and who are all either missing or crippled, possibly beyond the hope of recovery. Even reunified, the numbers paint a concerning picture. Simply put, there are not many Theodoroi left alive; only slightly more than two hundred survive to still claim ancestry to the House Theodoros of old, of them only fifty five Legionnaires and a paltry nine Experts.

However, it is clear that the Ratios are favourable to the Theodoroi, proving substantially better than from more common stock and even some of the younger Houses. The long ancestry of this Old Family has done them good, and given time it is clear that House Theodoros will be able to make a resurgence. However, one must consider that historically, Theodoroi numbers have only ever gone down over time, disproportionately compared to the rest of the Clan; after the bloodletting of a Trial, it is rare for their strength to recover to even their old level before the next set of Trials happens, without anything of note happening in the century that passes between Trials.

Ultimately, it is difficult to conclude anything but that House Theodoros is in dire straits and that reunification might not be able to resolve their greatest problem; attrition. But in this Era, anything might be possible. Given the evidence, however, I would advise preparing for the extinction of the embers of another Great House within the next two centuries. Without a miracle - hell, a dozen miracles - they are certain to suffer greatly in the coming set of Centennial Trials.

----

A/N: Wanted to set up some info on House Theodoros and its branches as well as their general relationship, which I've alluded to glibly a few times but never really gone into. However, given Katha's recent wounds, it's time for Noble Politics to take centre stage, while she takes a nice long vacation at the Oasis Neutral Lands and their very nice hot springs, blissfully ignorant of the absolute nonsense going down at home. Hopefully you enjoy what is honestly a pretty depressing document.

[Final Wordcount: 5405 Words]
 
Ajax Tripedes 10/Cerina Polya Side Story 7
Turn 15 - Ajax Tripedes 10/Cerina Polya Side Story 7

Year 262

The streets and alleys and halls of the Seven Heavens Trade City had a different air today than they did two years ago when Cerina returned from her first mission. Then, there had still been noticeable groups of Righteous Cultivators here and there as they squirreled themselves away from prying eyes. And sixteen years ago during one of her first visits, it'd been nearly bustling with them.

Now the speech of her Clan filled her ears and the patter of Plains accents were few and far between, and their colors were worn only by the occasional expert or lone young master and bodyguard. She'd heard it was making trade somewhat trickier nowadays with the cooling of relations between her people and theirs. Fewer western incenses, fewer ores, fewer foods which was the saddest part for her. At least she wasn't looking for a Plains-smith for this current project.

She shifted the Two Ton Burrowing Dugong corpse on her shoulders, its thick and metal infused plates resting heavily on her skin. The entire thing was nearly three meters long and unwieldy because of it. Cerina peered around for the renowned workshop she'd been directed towards. It was supposed to be on this street from what the mortals had told her, but it was all forges and workspaces and a whole host of other arcane things…

Ajax wasn't happy with the work he was doing in his shop today. Truthfully despite how well it paid he wasn't happy with the entire project. Having to make a Personal Array for Compression and Kludgery should have been simple. Old Gold's Saggy Bollocks he had made one out of spare serpent hide and aspirant level spirit stones when he was in the Mercury Falls mine! The issue was not the work itself, it was the client. Some young master from a Great family… Xie he thinks, who kept changing the parameters of what he wanted every other day. And of course he was too important to actually get told to go shove it. This of course led to a simple maybe three day long project to have been started, aborted, then restarted half a dozen times for no payoff despite how mindboggingly easy it should have been.

Stepping back from the etching work he was doing to inscribe the array into the smithed medal Ajax considered his work. Ah, too shadow with it he was going to push forward rush this thing today and try to get it done before any more 'last minute additions' or 'stylistic choices' could be done. If the foppish oaf wanted to complain he could, to either his superior or Ajax's fist. A month of doing this on repeat was just not worth the cost to his patience or his time, not when he could be working on things that actually mattered beyond someone's vanity. He turned and examined the ingots of Alloyed minerals he had wrought for his Spite Rebuking Lantern and shook his head. Soon he'd be able to pick up on it again.

Turning back to his work Ajax stoked the forges to get the soldering agent, fulminating mercury, back up to temperature for the last bits of work. He was lucky that apparently someone opened up the mine again so a steady source of the toxic metal was now readily traded out into Clan lands. It was so extremely useful for this sort of work. It made the qi receptors for spirit stones so much more sensitive and efficient. Breaking into his cache of the stuff would hopefully allow him to rush this out.

There was a sharp double rap on the door frame as a metal fist struck it. "Is this the shop of the Array Artisan Ajax?" A quiet but energy filled feminine voice asked, ringing out through the forge as something extremely heavy and metal sound was set down with a deep bass thud on the stone floor. Cerina was leaned down checking over her cargo when Ajax turned to look at her, her pale hair obscuring her features.

Ajax heard the young woman and her burden well before he actually saw her. His prowess with Bat's Unerring Ear gave him almost too much information in the city, but he had long learned to filter things. However, someone nearly as tall as he was carrying a large metal beast corpse was something he'd definitely take note of, if only to seek out later for possible chance of getting the ingredients from the source cheaper than having to purchase it through a merchant middleman. The fact that she had come to him directly though was curious. He stopped working on the nearly completed etching, making sure to keep the mildly poisonous etching agent from being so close to the forge fires before he stood up from his work, nearly hitting his head on the still too small roof to look at a presumable customer. "That it is, though I'd say ai'm a better smith than a array expert miss. What can I do you for?"

Cerina smiled and cheered internally at his friendliness as she stood up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Hi! My name is Cerina Polya and I'm looking for one of your PACKs…," she began, single eye closed but still dominating her features, and sharp teeth flashing in her mouth as she waved at Ajax.

The tall friendly young woman moved her pale hair out from beneath her face and suddenly the blood started pounding in Ajax's ears. One singular blood red eye, sharp meat cutting teeth. ENEMY, the thought roared in his head even as blood roared through his body. Acting quickly Ajax knocked the etching agent into the fire, creating a poisonous smoke that would obscure his movement and hopefully prevent her from seeing him with her fell gaze. If she looked at him directly he'd be a dead man, and focusing Qi into his legs he activated Colossus's Sure Stride, the air making a dreadful tearing sound and various object being displaced from his rapid movement, all in an attempt to close against an old foe he had thought he had killed twenty plus years ago.

The huge mass of the metal Dugong spirit flew through the air to impact Ajax clean across the face and body with a loud clang as Cerina screamed at the top of her lungs. "WHAT THE FUCK!?!" She yelled as she bounced out into the street and started scurrying away from the clearly very upset smith. The hell did she do? She hadn't gotten a reaction that bad since she was out in the Plains! She fell into the stance for Wind Number 8: Storm's Disregard as she heard the big guy thunder after her.

Ajax was hit by a flying metal dugong head on. Meaning he got in the face, specifically. STUPID! Predictable attacks only help her. Even as he was knocked head over heels he grabbed the dirt beneath him to leverage his legs back into touching the earth even as he grabbed the deceased spirit beast in his other hand, catching it mid air. Getting into his stance he formed both Sure Stride and two instances of Earth Shattering Blow, one for each arm, then using the cover the smoke had granted him and the fact he knew exactly where Daiyu was, he threw the Corpse at her directly. Before Striding twice at an oblique angle to catch her unawares.

The wall of metal meat in her face forced Cerina to trigger her technique as she leapt up, curled in the air and released the Rebuke. Her feet impacted the body as wind burst forth, stealing some of the momentum to fling her across the street, bounce off the edge of a roof and then land on her hands and knees. The dugong slammed into a store front across the way, sending up a huge cloud of dust as she saw Ajax basically right on top of her. She dropped and spun, sweeping for his lead leg with both of hers.

Aborting his would be killing blow but not the technique that powered it, he batted her legs away with Earth Shattering Blow. Even as an unpowered kick caught her in the middle, sending the cyclops flying again, but not of her own volition. That was when Ajax realized he was suddenly flying, when had that happened?

Forgemaster Zhang turned to the little girl he had caught… Well the girl he had caught. "I'm sorry about that miss. One of mine should never assault a would-be customer. I'll be along to fetch him for a proper apology in a moment, but are you alright?"

Cerina's initial stumbling response was strangled before it could form. She stood and brushed herself off gently. "I'm fine, Forgemaster, thank you for your swiftness. I am confused as to what set off my Clanmate," she said formally, a haughty undertone of annoyance bubbling forth into the air.

The expert with a magnificent Bronzed beard only shook his head. "Ajax is a good lad, a lot smarter than most would take him for, but the Blood Mist did a right number on his head. I don't think it's anything you did, if you catch my meaning. But it's not my story to tell." Picking up the battered but still mostly intact dugong cadaver from a collapsed shop stall, the short and stocky Forgemaster pushed it into Cerina's hands before sucking in the slowly spreading poisonous fumes from Ajax's workshop into his mouth, prompting them to stop existing. Shortly after this a loud thud was finally heard and the airborne form of Ajax was no longer readily discernible. "And it seems he finally stopped bouncing. I'll be back in a moment." The stocky man disappeared from view as suddenly as he came.

—---

Ajax groaned in pain. Truthfully Forgemaster Zhang hadn't hit him hard, it barely hurt, the multiple landings pancaking across the city however were an entirely different matter. Those did hurt. "Lad you REALLY screwed the pooch here." And of course the Forgemaster was already here, he couldn't catch a break could he? Slowly as he struggled to his feet, he was berated by his boss, who was standing just on the lip of the crater, hammerhead set to the ground with both hands clasped on the handle.

"Attacking a customer, destroying a neighboring stall, causing six separate instances of the streets needing to be repaired, nearly spreading toxic to mortals miasma, and lastly but most importantly, giving the local merchants a reason to bother me after I had just gotten the negotiations with them done!" His master berated him in forge cant as he stood at attention in the crater his own body had made, having to not only endure the shame of getting cratered, but having to endure what was clearly a dressing down where all could see. Wonderful.

Zhang chuffed disapprovingly, "So here's what is going to happen, I'm going to take the costs for repairs and paying off the merchants from your stipend, you're going to apologize for whatever episode of utter dogshit idiocy came over you, and you're going to make her an item free of charge." Ajax winced, the stipend loss irritated him, if only because it was HIS body who was pancaked all over the Trade city causing the damage. The apology was as much as he'd screwed up warranted. The last part however was actually horrible.

"Forgemaster Zhang, I'm still working on the commission for Xie Dugu. Will her order be allowed to come after?" Ajax asked inwardly expecting more dressing down for failing to finish his task in a timely fashion.

Zhang looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "That commission was nearly a month old, what is taking you so long?

"He keeps changing his commission parameters sir, I've had at least seven nearly finished works that had to be set aside or scrapped because of it." Ajax admitted.

Forgemaster just shook his head, "Give me what you have for the latest version lad, I'll handle that pompous ass, you work on mending bridges. After you apologize, of course." Suddenly Ajax was next to his workshop, sans poisonous gas, with a very tall cyclops girl waiting, presumably for the Forgemaster to return him.

Ajax, despite every instinct in his body screaming for him to do otherwise, assumed a kowtow before the young lady. "I sincerely apologize for my outburst and assault on your person Ma'am." He said trying his best to keep his accent from mangling his words too much.

Cerina looked at the large man prostrated before her and she clapped her hands once. "Apologies accepted, Blacksmith Ajax," she said as her features softened. "Your strikes are pretty impressive. I hope this doesn't hamper your progress in your dao," she said, a thread of genuine concern and sympathy under her haughty tone.

There was a sharp clang as she rapped the metal armored skull of the dugong she was sitting on. "Moving on from all that," the haughtiness vanished in the wake of interest. "Think you could make me one of your PACKs out of this guy?" She asked.

The dugong in question was an adult male, about a hundred years old going by his size, with an iridescent luster on his hide that indicated a peak Qi Condensation stage and an abnormal density of quality metal in his plates. Ajax wanted to make something out of such a splendid specimen badly, however he still felt the specter of the Forgemaster on his back. "While such a splendid specimen would no doubt lend itself to a wonderful Personal Array for Compression and Kludgery, after my unacceptable outburst, I was instructed to make a commission for you free of charge."

"Hmmmm," Cerina said as she held her chin in one hand. "Well I can't eat this guy, I already did his mate and all that. Get up, let's go inside to talk this out," she directed as she heaved the dugong onto her shoulder and shuffled into Ajax's shop.

Getting up from his kowtow, Ajax turned to the curtain of his shop and lifted it for Cerina. "Gladly," he said, motioning for her to come inside. He was still making a deliberate effort to not look at her directly however. "I apologize for the disarray this place is in." Ajax noted that the near finished piece for Xie Dugu was gone, seems like Zhang had taken it to finish without him noticing, again.

Cerina walked in behind him carrying the critter, navigating around a barrel of swords that had gotten tipped over, righting it with one foot. She set the dugong down. "I don't mind," she said. In the clatter of the sword barrel, thud of the beast on the floor, and the outside world getting shut away by the curtain her hands flicked through Legion hand signs.

[All I want is a thing to store LOTS of food perfectly on long marches, and you can have this guy's spare bits]

"I'm looking for something to transport my wealth in for long distances, security preferred," she explained, politely staying out of Ajax's sightline.

Despite having his back turned to the woman for the hands signs Ajax perceived them well enough. He turned slightly, ostensibly to regard her, but primarily to make his own hands signs.

[Sure, so stasis function, large obviously, do you want something for volatile storage for the more rarified meals?]

"I can do that easily enough, how large of a storage space, and how much weight do you find acceptable. The less weight mitigated the more it can store, but also the heavier the array will be."

[Correct. Volatiles would be nice, in a separate compartment accessible from a different opening] Cerina signed back.

"My upper limit is…," she started twitching her fingers, clearly running calculations in her head. "Well, my easy weight limit is somewhere around two and a half tons and I regularly have to handle materials two to three times that weight. A half weight reduction at most is about all I need." She explained. "Storage volume is about four by four by four meters."

[What sort of volatiles are preferred? A burning pyre mouse has different needs than a thunder skiing serpent or ten glaciers lizard. I can manage two to three before it get too complicated]

"I see you are quite strong then ma'am. Those dimensions shouldn't present a problem at all. What sort of style would you prefer? Brazen Bronze script, Matte black with no shine, or perhaps a cloud motif?"

[I'm interested in lightning aligned volatiles for my research, particularly those closely associated with tribulation] Cerina signed as she hummed in thought. "Something subtle in the mountain terrain, dull colored, with a locator charm just in case. Can you do that for me?" She asked.

Ajax was about to start signing when their talk and conversation were both interrupted by Zhang. "Y'all can stop with the hand canting legionnaires, no one is listening who can't already figure out what is going on." With that Ajax just sagged.

"I can make preparations for the containment of a lot of things, but tribulation lightning ain't one of them. At least not in a P.A.C.K., that needs purpose built arrays for those, and a Pack ain't exactly something good for a tribulation treasure." Ajax said, shaking his head. "I'm currently making one for myself, and I could make more given the proper materials, but they're expensive, Real expensive. Only reason I can make one right now is because I got to keep some of the bits from a Core serpent."

"Awww, that's a shame," she shook her head, waving one hand as she cleared up the misconception. "Though its not for a treasure-treasure. Part of my research would be helped along by zapping myself with small amounts of tribulation lightning so I can collect data on what it feels like."

Ajax turned to the cyclops and looked at her directly, because he could not believe what he was hearing. "You want to get hit by tribulation lightning for research? Why'd you want to do a damn fool thing like that? That stuff is lethal even in small amounts, why I'm trying to harvest and weaponize it."

Cerina raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "Really? Interesting! So!" She clapped. "The reason why is because I'm a curse expert and I have a certain goal to mitigate tribulations. For that I need data on how it affects me. If I can find tribulation lightning from a non-Devil source, a more 'typical' source, I can rule out some possibilities. If it gets worse inside of me then I have solid leads on two paths, if it doesn't I can rule out those possible paths for why its so bad for us, leaving my pool of possibilities much clearer."

She shrugged. "I'm… rather aware that this is absurdly dangerous, but I need to strengthen my Dao-Heart to prepare to rise to the Thirteenth Stage regardless."

Ajax blinked, then blinked again. "The only way to call down a tribulation is to endure a tribulation. That's not going to strengthen you dao heart, unless you actually win." Ajax shook his head, "You'd be better off finding one of our vassals and asking to watch them tribulate than try to force the issue yourself. Otherwise even the basest tribulation lightning could cause severe damage. That's why I'm not going to pull the trigger on advancing to Foundation until my Tribulation treasure, and supporting arrays are finished. Because even if you survive a heaven sent event it can cause a lot of damage, and changes."

She sighed and shrugged, palms to the sky. "Ahhh well, worth a try. I like the vassal idea, thanks for that! And it's not like I'm going to find a dragon I can reasonably fight anytime soon."

Cerina tilted her head curiously. "That said… you mentioned weaponizing it. Storing it. Are you going to try and collect it from sources beyond your own tribulation?"

Ajax rubbed the back of his head, "Kinda. If I can get my tribulation treasure to work and get the underlying qi calculations, and energy conversions replicated, I was going to attempt making more. Rina Callista's paper of energy transference and how originally it was all the same gave me the idea. Tribulation lighting is energy of heaven, so making a treasure out of aligned will fragment around a holding matrix that can draw off the energy would allow the use of the lightning as ammunition or energy for arrays and weapons.

"Predicated off a tribulation coming down, the treasure would wick off the worst of the killing intent and allow it to be stored and drawn later. If I can minimize the error margins on the treasure, and make sure it's more easily replicable, I could make it so we have a stock of Foundation and possibly core level breakthrough lightning on hand. It's still conjecture though, the lantern is still being forged." Ajax realizied he's run on a bit. "Been a bit of a pet project of mine."

Cerina catches herself in the middle of nodding along intently. That river of information clicked into place neatly in her head and gave her an idea. "I've seen the same paper, as well as others on the Deadly Tribulation Curse. I can see the potential in the idea, and how it lines up with mine…," She glanced over his workspace consideringly, then looked back at Ajax. "Say. If you end up figuring it out before I give it my best go, I'd like to buy one 'lantern' off you. And outside of that, I move around a lot and hunt a lot. Want to make a deal for monster parts up to the False First Pillar in strength?"

"If it works out, sure, I can always make things in exchange for materials. Though I tend to move around a lot too. Probably more once they get the fallout from the mountain bell mission, pacification of the jingshen and poison maze mission. Apparently I impressed the higher ups." Ajax raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders, hitting the roof. "For some reason." He puts his hand out for a shake.

Cerina grasped his hand firmly, her sharp smile as wide as a tigers. "I'll keep an eye on your rise. Hopefully we can both succeed!" She said brightly.

Being very sure to not shudder on touching her or looking at her cyclopean self, Ajax nodded his head. "Agreed."



@Swordomatic

Thanks a bunch @CuriousRaptor!

[Word Count: 3864] Split between us.
 
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