Reach Heaven Via Feng Shui Engineering, Drug Trade And Tax Evasion

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The last guy who said to you "I already told you what I think it looked like" got told "never mind, I'm talking to a wall, goodbye."

Is your actual point "what does this look like," or is it "move the goalposts to justify disdainful condemnation of anyone else who's talking about this subject?"
Alright, I'll bite. Find me one single instance of where I moved the goalposts.
 
When you went from Gold's post here to "I'm talking to a wall," then when the QM talked about the processes, you went "no, I'm talking about what it looked like, you're missing the point."

The most consistent element is less focus on talking EITHER about how this looks OR about how this works mechanically than in telling people they're wrong, that they've ignored what you said, or that they're too thick to be worth talking to.

And now you're playing "hide the actual thesis" in favor of going "prove I argued in bad faith, I double dare you," which is another common sign.

I strongly suggest you just take a step back, touch grass, and stop trying to treat this conversation as an opportunity to score rhetorical points by telling other people they are bad or stupid. If you want a detailed visual description of what happened, ask politely. If you want to talk about the mechanics, do. Stop sneering at people who talk about the former for not talking about the latter while sneering at those who talk about the latter for not talking about the former.
 
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When you went from Gold's post here to "I'm talking to a wall," then when the QM talked about the processes, you went "no, I'm talking about what it looked like, you're missing the point."
Except I told Gold the same and he kept going on about his own thing. Next.
The most consistent element is less focus on talking EITHER about how this looks OR about how this works mechanically than in telling people they're wrong, that they've ignored what you said, or that they're too thick to be worth talking to.

And now you're playing "hide the actual thesis" in favor of going "prove I argued in bad faith, I double dare you," which is another common sign.

I strongly suggest you just take a step back, touch grass, and stop trying to treat this conversation as an opportunity to score rhetorical points by telling other people they are bad or stupid. If you want a detailed visual description of what happened, ask politely. If you want to talk about the mechanics, do. Stop sneering at people who talk about the former for not talking about the latter while sneering at those who talk about the latter for not talking about the former.
I'm not going to be nice to people who don't treat my words in good faith. People like Gold and you seem to be. I did ask for the description, at the start of this whole discussion. Yet no one "talked about it" so far, as you put it.

And funny thing of you to accuse me of "scoring rhetorical points" when you joined the conversation solely to moralize at me.
 
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47 characters... Five off English, which isn't unbelievable, but it's only one off the full set of Greek. More if there's numbers in line with the text, as I don't think she could tell much of the difference... If its got any accents or diacritics, she'll probably categorise those as an entirely separate character (which you should) as you would change a character with a radical...

Of course, there are alphabet sets much closer to chinese, and it could yet be an abugida, or an abjad, or a syllabary. The mongolians had an alphabet, as did the Manchu, and India, of course, has an abugida...
 
Even you are ignoring the point... It's not clear what it looked like, not the underlying processes involved or whatever.
Fellow cultivator, why the mystery, why not say so sooner? Nothing can be simpler to demonstrate. I have drawn a diagram to help explain:


I hope this illustrates the point this humble daoist was trying to make 🙏
 
And funny thing of you to accuse me of "scoring rhetorical points" when you joined the conversation solely to moralize at me.
If I go out in the street at night and yell at the clouds long enough, sooner or later someone will stick their head out a window and tell me I need to calm down. It is a well known behavior. And frankly, a society where that doesn't happen isn't necessarily a healthy one, because it makes it a lot easier to behave abusively towards others with no perception of consequence.
 
47 characters... Five off English, which isn't unbelievable, but it's only one off the full set of Greek. More if there's numbers in line with the text, as I don't think she could tell much of the difference...
Also more if she hasn't come across any words containing that language's equivalent of j, q, or x. Or at least not the capital versions of them. Come to think of it, also more if the handwriting is irregular enough that Shanyi assumes S/s or X/x or I/l are the same character.
(But by the same token, less if that language has an equivalent to open-top 4 and pointy-top 4, or loopy-top k and straight-lines k. Or if the writer just has sloppy enough handwriting that Shanyi mistakes their P's for three separate characters.)

Anyways, if there's a real-world alphabet which corresponds to the text Shanyi's reading, we don't have anywhere near enough data to guess which one.
 
I guess the first question is whether there are spaces between words (as is common today), or not (as was annoyingly common in ancient times).
I took this to mean that there are spaces between words:
Perhaps combinations of them were the key - they seemed to be grouped together, separated by gaps, and written in horizontal lines across the page, instead of the vertical ones she was used to.

47 characters... Five off English, which isn't unbelievable, but it's only one off the full set of Greek.
Two off. Remember, two distinct lowercase sigmas (a deeper analysis would find that one only appears at the end of words, and the other only in other positions, but she hasn't yet even mentioned noticing that uppercase letters mostly appear at the start of words).

Note that while she did explicitly mention distinguishing uppercase and lowercase letters that differ only in size such as C/c, It's possible that she's failed to, say, distinguish uppercase I from lowercase l, if the text is in the Latin alphabet.

There's also no acknowledgement of any punctuation or numerals that may be in the text (some punctuation might be obvious enough not to count, but others wouldn't, and it's certainly difficult to determine that digits are not letters without deeper analysis than she's done here - one would think they'd be included in the initial count if they're used at all. Of course, the text could be written using some number system such as roman numerals that does not use distinct symbols.)

Anyway, it's probably not worth discussing much more unless she comes back to trying to analyze this book, at which point we will also have more information.
 
Interlude: Every Thought An Arrogance, Every Breath Rebellion, Every Blink Audacity
Author Note: My editor told me that "I suck at deciding where to break up volumes" and "it's immoral to edge your readers like this". Since they have clearly been influenced by the Heavens, I have elected to ignore them.​

They both heard the alarm at the same time.

Li Zhong put down his cup of tea, comically small in his enormous hands, and rose, appearing next to the window in a single stride. His cloak - in the style common among all body fundamentalists - billowed behind him, only held down by a single clasp around his neck, ready to be tossed aside at a moment's notice. Beneath it, the golden skin of his bare arms and legs, bulging with muscles, threw sun glares all across the room, only eclipsed by his shining, completely bald head. His torso was covered in a thin, tight fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. The only other decoration on his body was an image of a happy bat, holding a golden coin in its mouth, embroidered on the back of his cloak in golden thread.

Jian Wei, Elder Ever-Dancing Sunlight of the Northern Scarlet Stream sect and (some would argue) the second richest man in Glaze Ridge, remained seated, only inclining his head a fraction. This wasn't for them to deal with.

"An alarm?" Li Zhong said, stating the obvious as usual, his voice loud enough to carry across a sect courtyard, let alone his small office, only large enough to fit a table full of paperwork and some futons. Jian Wei could hear the window glass rattle slightly every time he spoke.

They had an argument about this habit of his many times, when they drank together. Jian Wei would say it made the larger man seem unprofessional, like a mercenary, not a banker, and didn't he leave that life behind? Li Zhong would reply that a banker was also a mercenary, just of a different sort, and besides, pitching his voice to speak quieter took effort he didn't care to expend.

He did seem to do so when their juniors were in the room, though.

"Must be in Reflection Ridge," Jian Wei said, not looking up from the financial plan for the telegraph network the two of them were supposed to be discussing, "Stage one. A forest spirit, you think?"

"Forest should be quiet after the rainstorm," Li Zhong rumbled, still gazing out the window. Jian Wei knew for a fact that not even a single roof of Reflection Ridge could be seen from it, and he also knew what Li Zhong would say if he pointed it out.

Finally, Li Zhong shook his head, and turned away from the window. "They should have it handled. That Shui Gui they have is pretty good."

"It is polite to refer to fellow cultivators by their name, Zhong."

Li Zhong scoffed, predictably. "Name? I don't even remember your name most days, Jin Mei. I don't care about the name, I care about the strength of their fists."

"It's a wonder anyone trusts you with their gold." Jian Wei shook his head, smiling at the shared joke.

"They trust me because I am the best at hiding their money, not because I remember every wee child of theirs," Li Zhong grumbled, sitting back down, finally ready to get back to work.

A distant thunderclap made them both turn towards the window, eyes sharp and ready, waiting for confirmation.

The second thunderclap came, and Li Zhong swore. Even from this far out, they could see the sky dimming slightly.

Jian Wei pursed his lips. He agreed, but there was little need to state it out loud. "A tribulation…" he said instead, "Refinement stage, if they only called a stage one alarm. Someone from out of town, you think?"

"Must be," Li Zhong grunted, picked up a small golden bell off the table, and rang it once. "I haven't heard of any formations being set up, at least. Loose cultivator, with nothing…"

He shook his head.

The poor soul.

Exactly three heartbeats after the bell rang, the door opened, and a young disciple of Li Zhong bowed to them from the entrance, her hair tied in a conservative top knot. Unlike the man himself, she was wearing classic cultivator robes, though with sleeves cut above her elbows and the hem above her knees. Embroidering of a bat on the front of her robes mirrored that of her elder.

"Send Zhao to the postal office, Lin Mei," Li Zhong said, "someone is going through a tribulation. He has the best eyes and ears of all of you - perhaps he could help."

"Send word to my sect as well," Jian Wei said, "If they survive, we would be hosting a feast to celebrate, and they would need an invitation."

Li Zhong raised an eyebrow at that. Lin Mei bowed, and left quickly.

"Already looking to recruit?" Li Zhong said.

"Just getting ahead of the others. We are a growing sect, and we need members." He smiled. "A loose cultivator who survives their tribulation must be a good talent, unlikely as that may be."

"I figured your son would already be there, Wei," Li Zhong said.

"I do not have a son." Jian Wei pursed his lips. Even after many years, this had not stopped rankling. "I have a nephew, as you well know. And while he will be there, I doubt he will consider what is best for our sect."

"He might as well be your son, for how much you dote on him," Li Zhong grumbled, "you'll ruin him, you know? That young boy needs discipline."

Jian Wei shot him a warning glare. Friends they may be, but there were limits.

Li Zhong raised his hands defensively. "All I am saying is that people talk. When will you teach him how to run the sect?"

"They can talk until their tongues fall out," Jian Wei said, "it is not their place to tell me how to deal with my disciple and my nephew."

As if he didn't know people talked. He had been having the same argument in his own head for well over several years.

"He is young. He will grow out of it," Jian Wei said quieter, more for his own sake than his friend's, "I have no plans of expiring until then, and the sect will still be here, when he will be ready to learn."

They went back to their papers. There was work to be done - the poor soul would sink or swim on their own power.

Jian Shizhe snarled as he stalked the streets of Reflection Ridge.

He was going to find Wang Yonghao, and he was going to slaughter him.

Three years of preparation and planning, finding the largest shambler in the alley, luring it towards the place he needed without scaring it off, buying and setting up the trap formations, waiting for the perfect night to subdue it…

And then that imbecile, that pig in human form swung his sword, and all of it was obliterated in an instant.

All because he couldn't open his eyes and see the damn formation.

And then he had the gall to not even apologize properly for what he did? To simply walk away?

But even after all that, he would have swallowed the humiliation. After what happened last year, Jian Wei all but ordered him to keep the peace while disciples from the Flowing Scarlet River were in town, and he did his best. He stomped down on his soul and let the bastard go.

Two days later, just this morning, he happened to run into Wang Yonghao again, and - calmly - asked if they could settle the issue like true cultivators, trade some pointers about their sword technique and both walk away with their honor. In return for his grace, he got a single word tossed over the shoulder about being busy.

Jian Wei ordered him to keep the peace. But Jian Wei did not understand, not since his brother - and Jian Shizhe's father - died and he laid down his sword like a coward, collaring them all to the Flowing Scarlet River sect.

So rare, to have two cultivators in the same family, brothers in training. Rarer still, for one of them to have a child who could cultivate as well. So precious.

And yet…

The glass arts of their sect were made for those of a metal constitution, and the Heavens had cursed him with wood. He was never going to be able to inherit these sacred techniques, never going to perfect them further.

His father's legacy? Not fit for his shoulders.

An outcast from birth.

So he threw himself into training with ten times the ferocity. If he could not learn the spiritual energy techniques, then he would perfect everything else. A strong spiritual shield and a lightning-fast sword was all that a proper cultivator should need - reliance on techniques was, in itself, a weakness.

Other disciples laughed at him. A wood-constitution cultivator hoping to revitalize a sect of metal techniques? What a joke. Cultivators from the Flowing Scarlet River laughed at him - at their entire sect, as if being the main branch gave them a right to treat them all like trash.

Those worthless worms understood nothing. They forgot what cultivation was for, debauched themselves from dawn to dusk all the while daring to insult him. And so he wore the clothing from the olden times, when cultivators knew the score. And then he made them understand. At this point, even building foundation cultivators had to admit his skill with the sword, whenever they had time to spar.

Respect came from power. If he had power, he would have respect. The jokes didn't stop, of course, but by now, only a rare few dared to say them to his face.

Rui Bao dared, but there was little he could do about that man. But Wang Yonghao… This trash, he could deal with.

He needed that shambler - their sect had a minor manual on beast rearing, rarely practiced though it may be - and if he could not train in the techniques to control glass, then at least he could do that much, show the might of their sect to the rest of the world. But if he couldn't get the shambler… He'd be satisfied with some revenge.

As he came around a corner, thoughts of rage and vengeance swirling in his mind, he heard the alarm, and saw the lightning strike down from the sky. The sight of it rooted him down to the ground.

For a moment, he considered not going.

He could turn away, claim he saw and heard nothing. Nobody would know. He could find Wang Yonghao, and get his vengeance, before the cowardly wretch fled the town entirely. Nobody would even say anything - coming to watch, let alone help, was not, could not be an expectation, for cultivators transcended the tribulation on their own power.

Shame flooded his soul for even thinking this.

Nobody would understand.

Cultivators rose up and toppled the Heavens. What would he be, if he wasn't willing to help?

He couldn't have his father's legacy. He couldn't make his uncle open his eyes to the humiliation the main sect imposed on them. Some days, he even doubted he could get anyone else to do so.

But he was a cultivator, damn it, not a snarling beast of the forests. He knew what mattered.

He sprinted towards the lightning.

Hui Yin stumbled out of a tavern, polishing up his third spit of meat for the morning. His head still pounded after last night - another traveling immortal musician challenged him to a game of demonic music, and as usual it all devolved into drinking a couple hours in, with them both playing together, and even swapping instruments for a bit - though his memory was still hazy. His hurdy-gurdy, at least, seemed fine, if somewhat out of tune - getting it repaired all the way out here would have been a bitch and a half.

At least the customers must have had plenty of fun, since the innkeeper didn't toss them out on the street until morning, and his gold pouch felt plenty full.

He swallowed his breakfast and tossed the empty spits into the pile of firewood next to one of the houses he passed. He didn't much like returning to towns he had been in before, but he might have to make an exception for Reflection Ridge. All those solar lenses weren't just for show - he hadn't tasted meat this juicy in ages. He wiped his hands on a bit of cloth he carried - always good to have one, to wipe the chairs in the seediest taverns, if nothing else - and started working on his instrument, turning knobs to bring it back into tune.

Sudden blare of an alarm cut into his ears like a knife, and he winced. Couldn't the demon beasts wait until the suns were high in the skies before trying to eat someone?

He glanced up at the closest sun. Alright, so perhaps it already was mid-day, but this changed nothing. He briefly wondered if Curls might have gotten herself in trouble - that beautiful snake knew how to stay out of sight, but on occasion a cultivator would still come across her, and misunderstand things.

A lightning strike from the skies tore through that line of thinking, and he whistled in surprise, blinking to get rid of the afterimage, and having just enough time to pluck his ears before the thunder clap. A tribulation! Now that was always a good show. Perhaps he'd even get some inspiration and write a new song. He headed towards it, though with no real hurry. The post office wasn't far enough to rush.

When he saw a black void open up and heard the chittering of rats, it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. An embarrassingly long one, since he knew no less than five songs about it.

"A zodiac? Holy shit," he whispered, and sprinted off towards the edge of town, where Curls was hiding.

He wasn't about to let an opportunity like this lie by the wayside.

Trigger the alarm. Get the index. Lock the cabinets. Grab the tribulation bag.

Chen Changjie let his body work through the motions, his mind elsewhere. He served as the postmaster of Reflection Ridge for thirty years - this wasn't his first tribulation, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

He hoped that every time, and so far, every time he had been right.

He had seen many tribulations. Most of them, cultivators trying to break into the building foundation stage, but there was their fair share of broken vows, heavenly techniques striking back at their users, and uncovered treasures the Heavens could not suffer to see. Once, he even saw a tribulation descend on a demon beast from the forest, though it died with little fanfare.

He did his best to help every time.

His wife told him he was crazy - he could have made the cultivator at his postal office do the job. He was a mortal, she said, and could die in an instant if things went wrong.

He didn't argue, but how could he stay out of it? He saw the cultivators defend the town dozens of times, save his life and that of others. If he wasn't even brave enough to stay there and coordinate, provide information, then why did he even become a postmaster?

Tribulations differed greatly. Some were fairly easy, nothing more than a challenge of skill and will. Others were… bad.

He hated those that made the cultivator suffer before they died the most. A loose cultivator, with little preparation… For her sake, he hoped this would be an easy one.

It took him less than a minute to lock everything up and make sure the other people within the room would stay safe. By the time he finished, Junming came up from the depths of the post office - no doubt woken up by the alarm - carrying that large lantern of theirs, and together they left through the doors, to face the lightning.

He had seen many tribulations, and many cultivators. In the fables, cultivators always grinned in the face of death - but that was not how he saw it. Most were simply… focused, showing neither bravery or fear, mind working overtime to keep up with the Heavens. Some cried. Some seemed to welcome death, and disappointed when it did not come. Some laughed, consumed by a strike of hysteria.

And some…well.

When he came up on the hill, Junming following after, he saw this Qian Shanyi ranting into the storm, looking for all the world like an actress from one of the plays, though her sharp sword told a different story. In her eyes, madness flowed in rivers.

"Would you help?" he asked Junming quietly, setting the tribulation bag down on the ground - full of basic first aid supplies, pills, some spare weapons, and a dozen other things. He tried not to wonder how many cultivators died before the empire mandated them in every post office, having technically passed through the tribulation yet succumbing to their wounds shortly thereafter, with nobody competent around to help.

"Don't know," Junming warbled, their outer coverings left at the bottom of the hill. They put their lantern down on the ground, and were assembling the tripod for the Tribulation Index with practiced speed. "Don't know this tribulation."

Chen Changjie looked up, and saw a dark void, something moving around and chittering. For all his experience, he didn't know it either, never having memorized the entire book. There was little point - two dozen most common tribulation forms were responsible for well over ninety-eight percent of tribulations.

His heart sank. Unknown meant rare, and those were always the bad ones.

He flipped the Tribulation Index open, and started going through it, checking descriptions, keeping his fingers from trembling with sheer force of will. Panic never helped things, even if his ignorance might kill someone today.

"Page one hundred and fifty six, honorable postmaster," Qian Shanyi interrupted his thinking, pitching her voice to be heard across the hill, "but there is no need to search on my account."

He glanced up at the mad woman. Her eyes didn't leave the void above for even a moment - she must have heard him flipping the pages. For all her ranting, she seemed composed, ready for what was to come.

He flipped to the page she said, and his heart sank further as he realized she was correct.

One of the worst ones, then.

He breathed in, then out, and rose to his feet. If she knew this tribulation, then perhaps the odds were not quite as bad as the index suggested.

He placed the Tribulation Index on the tripod Junming prepared - cultivators like them were the ones who would need the information inside, after all - and sprinted down the hill, where others were already gathering, those willing to assist standing closer. His job was to organize them together - make sure none would interfere if they were not qualified to handle the danger, and select those best suited to help.

All the history books said that to cultivate was to rebel against the Heavens. They said that cultivators saved lives, and brought safety and happiness to millions.

He could not cultivate. But if he could help the cultivators do so, then wasn't that just as good?

Author Note: If you'd like to read four chapters ahead, or read other works I write, you can find me on patreon.
I also have a discord server, where I post memes I make about FSE, and occasionally discuss some plans and worldbuilding details. Want to talk about the Heavenly tribulation? It's the best place to be!
Thanks for reading! :)
 
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Interesting tidbits sprinkled through here. It's nice seeing little glimpses into other characters heads, getting a variety of perspectives.

The tribulation being rat themed: presumably there are tribulations for each animal of the zodiac then? Interesting that they're uncommon enough to not be recognized offhand by most.
 
It's interesting that The Empire wants to maximise the number of cultivators - not just those in specific sects, but total. The nature of cultivators is to Rebel, but those in power have decided that the risk to social structure is worth it.
Even loose cultivators must bring great value then. I suppose with the wilderness this hostile the number of cultivators you have directly controls how much population and land-under-agriculture a society fan have?


If a Demon Beast is undergoing a Tribulation that means it is attempting to transcend its place in the order of things and attain human form. So help it, it could be your martial brother by next month.
 
I love the sense of community here, and I also love how the at first seemingly stereotypical young master also has hidden depths. Makes it seem like if Yong Hao knew cultivator rules and what cultivator community was like better, he might not be offending young masters left and right as often. Shanyi can probably be very helpful as his social educator.
 
It's interesting that The Empire wants to maximise the number of cultivators - not just those in specific sects, but total. The nature of cultivators is to Rebel, but those in power have decided that the risk to social structure is worth it.
Even loose cultivators must bring great value then. I suppose with the wilderness this hostile the number of cultivators you have directly controls how much population and land-under-agriculture a society fan have?


If a Demon Beast is undergoing a Tribulation that means it is attempting to transcend its place in the order of things and attain human form. So help it, it could be your martial brother by next month.
The more cultivators who undergo tribulation, the weaker the strength of any tribulation.
 
The more cultivators who undergo tribulation, the weaker the strength of any tribulation.
The empire has also specifically taken steps to ensure even lone cultivators with no backing will survive overcoming their tribulation.

…I suppose it does also serve a purpose of helping the empire keep track of the loose cultivators and their current realms if they always go to a post-office in order to rank up. You better believe 'who underwent what tribulation where' is getting communicated to central and collated.
 
A zodiac Rat Tribulation also implies that there is a Dragon Tribulation. I'm personally betting on Qian Shanyi facing that one too eventually.
 
The Rat tribulation is only the beginning. Next will be Ox, then Tiger, then Rabbit, and so on until Pig. XD
 
The Rat tribulation is only the beginning. Next will be Ox, then Tiger, then Rabbit, and so on until Pig. XD
That possibility occurred to me, but the way Hui Yin says "a zodiac" makes me think that the zodiac tribulations are twelve separate tribulations.

But if it is all twelve, it's gonna peak early. Right after Dragon is Snake, and let's face it, snakes are just less interesting dragons. Horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog, pig...all of those animals can be dangerous, but none of them are dragons, you know?
 
It's interesting that The Empire wants to maximise the number of cultivators - not just those in specific sects, but total. The nature of cultivators is to Rebel, but those in power have decided that the risk to social structure is worth it.
Even loose cultivators must bring great value then. I suppose with the wilderness this hostile the number of cultivators you have directly controls how much population and land-under-agriculture a society fan have?


If a Demon Beast is undergoing a Tribulation that means it is attempting to transcend its place in the order of things and attain human form. So help it, it could be your martial brother by next month.
Also the nature of cultivators is to rebel against the heavens. Given how tyrannical the heavens appear to be in this world, the empire is probably in favor of anything that diminishes their power. More cultivators means a higher chance another one will manage to kick their faces in.
 
It's also possible that the Empire is struggling with the Heavens for influence over the mortal realm. Absolutely no evidence for this, but it fits the nature of empires.
 
I love the little tripod. They put the book in a place the cultivator undergoing tribulation can see it, as if they'll have the free headspace to read along as heaven does it's best to crush them.

It's very 'I helped!' of them.
 
Ideally, they read what's going on before they join in the Heavens' crushening.
I mean, I get that. It's going to make a difference in maybe two or three tribulations a year, since any cultivator with sense should be reading up on their likely tribulations beforehand.

But if you had sense you'd accept your place beneath heaven.
 
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