Flight is incredible, you realize. The sheer liberty you feel, cutting through the clouds like a spearhead and cruising through the air with unparalleled ease… you understand now, why birds are the most prideful of creatures. Of course, you are not the one to actually be doing the flying. You are strapped with three belts — for your own safety, flights can get very turbulent, very quickly — to the back of a fenghuang. Sitting ahead of you is Uncle Tao, holding the beast by its comb to manage its direction. His long white hair fluttering in the wind, he's still as tranquil as water in a pond. Neither the wind blowing of the sky nor a lethal-to-fall-from height bothers him in the slightest. His calmness helps you regain yours: although the novelty of flight remains, you are no longer as amazed and wonder-struck. You realize soon that the journey is long and the fenghuang is steady — you might as well find something to occupy your time. *temp read_something false *temp read_sect false *temp asked_connections false *temp asked_trials false *temp asked_aboutarts false *label spending_time *choice *selectable_if (read_something) #Chat with Uncle Tao. *label chat_start What do you want to talk about? *choice *selectable_if (not (asked_connections)) #Ask him whether he knows someone in the Heavenly Ascension Sect. *set asked_connections true Unable to bear the established silence and with your chaperone not being too keen on breaking it, you decide to start the conversation. "Uncle Tao." — you ask, fidgeting with the belts on your waists — "You're quite old, right?" You hear him sigh in annoyance. "Yes." — he replies, not bothering to either turn around or support the flow of the dialogue. Now it's your turn to clack your teeth. Can't he speak normally? Must you use pincers to pull the words out of his mouth? "Do you know anybody in the sect? Some Elders, maybe?" Wouldn't your life at the sect be glamorous and wonderful if he used his connections to gain you special privileges? "I do." "Can you put in a few words for me?" — you question him, eagerly anticipating his response. "I can't." In an instant, your hopes deflate. You harrumph, and if he was facing you, you would've turned around. You spend a few minutes in quietness before Uncle Tao continues. "A real expert does not rely on others. What he wants, he takes. And what he cannot take, is not his for the taking." Well then, you at least managed to get him to talk. To say more than two words in a sentence, should already qualify as success, shouldn't it? *selectable_if (not (asked_trials)) #Ask him about the upcoming Trials. *set asked_trials true "Uncle Tao." — you address your escort — "Can you explain the Trials awaiting me in the sect? Father spoke to me about them, but our conversations are rarely long." "Your father is a…" — he pauses, his head tilted back, searching for a fitting description. It's obvious that Uncle Tao is not particularly well-versed in the arts of conversation — "Complicated man." "There would be two trials. One of affinity, the other of ability." — he continues. "That, I know." — you respond. Uncle Tao nods. He frees one of his hands and scratches his growing stubble. "The Affinity trial will test your Comprehension, your Body Adaptivity, and, most importantly, the Purity of your blood." Comprehension determines how easy it is for you to understand and learn Martial Arts, while Body Adaptivity is your ability to absorb alchemical products. The potency of your blood decides how powerful everything you do would be. "The second test will be a tourney. You will fight against other would-be-disciples and your shown prowess will determine your starting position in the sect." Uncle Tao does not elaborate further, settling back into the silence. *selectable_if (not (asked_aboutarts)) #Ask him what kind of Martial Arts you should practice. *set asked_aboutarts true For the first time since the ride began, Uncle Tao turns around. He looks you over, as if contemplating. *if (mc_trait_5) "Your left's as good as your right." — he attested and returned his gaze back at the empty sky — "You like finger techniques?" *choice #I do. *label repeated_text1 "Then seek out Elder Shouzi, if you manage to get into the sect. He practices Double Death Fingers and back then I couldn't withstand a touch from it." You gulp as your mouth salivates. That strong?! Although you don't know Uncle Tao's exact strength, he often spars with your father — meaning they should at least be considered of close levels. An elephant will not train with a bug, will it? "Thank you for your advice, Uncle Tao." He nods and doesn't speak further. You continue your quiet journey. #I don't. "A shame then. You are quite suited to practice Elder Shouzi's Double Death Fingers." — he hesitates as if considering whether speaking more words is worth the trouble — " You should find him in the sect. Maybe a demonstration will change your mind." You nod, as both of you continue your quiet journey. #I'm not against them. *goto repeated_text1 *else "A shame, your sides aren't balanced." — he attests. "What do you mean?" — you ask, tilting your head in confusion. "The greatest practitioner of finger techniques both alive and in history is an elder of the Heavenly Ascension Sect. However, the Art he practices is not suitable for those not truly ambidextrous." You gulp. Becoming a personal disciple of that man — how fortunate would that be?! Such bad luck… "With your physique, you can practice whatever you want. You should ask Tutors at the sect for the exact details." "Thank you, Uncle Tao." He nods and doesn't speak further. You continue your quiet journey. *if (((asked_connections) and (asked_trials)) and (asked_aboutarts)) *page_break Continue Chat *goto end_of_conversation *else *page_break Continue Chat *goto chat_start #Rummage your spatial ring for a book to read. Your senses abstract themselves from the outside world, your mind submerges into a layer of space separated from the real world… *set read_something true *set inventory_page 2 *gosub_scene inv_scene books *page_break End Book *goto spending_time *selectable_if (not (read_sect)) #Organize knowledge about the sect. *set read_sect true *set read_something true Law, Ascension, and Havoc — these three words can already sufficiently describe the Heavenly Sects. Heavenly Law Sect places laws and rules above personal desires and freedom. A society, especially full of warlike Martial Artists, can only function under strict regulation. This sect considers itself to be an enforcer of justice, its disciples traveling the world being both judges and executioners. Common folk often consider the Heavenly Law Sect to be the righteous one, but that's only true when the law doesn't contradict morality. More a group of independent, but cooperating Elders, the Heavenly Havoc Sect tends to gather violent and vile characters. For them the only rule is power and the only law is of the jungle: to those, who are stronger — submit; those, who are weaker — eat. Sometimes, even in a literal sense. The disciples of the sect have a reputation for being bloodthirsty demons wreaking chaos wherever they go. They are powerful, cruel, and untrustworthy, their promises as robust as a castle built from sand. Heavenly Ascension Sect is the 'neutral' sect. Neither fond of order nor chaos, its main goal is to maintain the status quo. They do have rules but also believe in freedom — especially for the powerful. The sect is led by an Elder Council, presided by the Sect Master. A vote decides every important matter, though the number of votes the Elders have isn't constant and depends on their current contributions. Heavenly Ascension Sect also has a Hidden Elder — the most powerful expert alive, who, by tradition, never meddles in inner politics, unless the sect faces destruction. Disciples are divided into Outer, Inner, Core, and Prime. Outer Disciples make up the general workforce of the sect, carrying out the most tedious tasks with their large numbers. Outer Disciples do not get any kind of training or education. Instead, they can pay with their Contribution Points to acquire resources and teachings to keep up with the sect's harsh standards. Inner Disciples have an inherent difference from the Outer ones: the latter pay to remain in the sect, while the former are the ones being paid. The sect grants them an allowance, amongst other privileges, in hopes of cultivating them into Enforcers and Envoys. Core Disciples are the future Elders of the sect, the most talented youth of the generation. They usually enjoy the personal guidance of an Elder and form their own factions, competing against other Core Disciples. Prime Disciple can only be one amongst a generation and even then, the position usually is left unfilled. Fostered to be either the future Sect Master or the Hidden Elder, the sect spends the entirety of its power and funds to accelerate and deepen the Prime Disciple's development. *page_break Return *goto spending_time *label end_of_conversation You can't help but grow curious about the man who controls the notoriously proud fenghuang without visible effort. Who is he? Why does he serve your clan? You've known Uncle Tao your whole life. Or, at least, he's present in your earliest memories: always following your father, clinging to him like a persistent shadow. Despite the often meetings, you have never spoken to him at length — your youthful self too afraid of his rough, wrinkled face. He's not your father's childhood friend nor a brother bonded during your father's path in Jianghu, that you know for sure: the age difference between them is massive. Uncle Tao may just be the oldest person you have ever met, with his true age surpassing three centuries. An impressive amount, even for a Xiantian. Still though, you want to know more. "Uncle Tao, can I ask you a personal question?" — you inquire, tapping your feet against the bird's sides. "If I say no, will you heed my words?" — he grumbles, tired of your constant queries. "Probably not." — you reply, honest and unashamed — "So, what sect did you go to? It must be Heavenly Law, right?" It is an obvious guess, for someone as proper and rule-abiding as him. "Heavenly Havoc." You are stunned stupid. What? Although demons — that's how the society calls those without honor and restraint — are known for many things, longevity is not one of them. They make too many enemies, live too dangerous of lives to last above two hundred. In addition, they are merciless, indecent, and impulsive: none of these things apply to Uncle Tao. He spots your confusion. Letting out a long sigh, he, surprisingly, decides to elaborate. "Despite our rigidness and stubborn nature, Xiantian are too capable of change." — Uncle Tao informs — "The Jianghu is also not as black and white as you believe, child." "What made you abandon the wicked path, Uncle Tao?" — you ask, genially curious. You've never met a demon before, much less a reformed one. "My wife." — he answers. The mood transforms in an instant as soon as he does: gloomy and tense, it makes your skin crawl in discomfort. The unhidden rage boiling in Uncle Tao's hunchback frame doesn't help. It's clear that his wife is a sore topic filled with feelings yet to be resolved. *choice #"You have a wife?" A wife is not a concubine — the latter can be discarded at will, while the former is an equal partner to be loved and cared for. Your imagination fails to envisage this frigid brooder cherishing someone to that extent: not to mention, where does he find the time, always running errands for your father? "I [i]had [/i]a wife." You feel his previous rage intensify. It threatens to erupt and burst, his burning fury dousing you in an ice-cold bath. You swallow, hard. "Did she die?" "Murdered." *label repeated_text2 Murdered?! Who in their right mind would murder the wife of a Xiantian, one who's closely connected to the head of a Greater Clan? "By whom?" "He Clan." You furrow your brows. Although the relationship between Wu and He has been strained and on edge, it's never been hostile. Well, except for that brief period of time when you got into a brawl with their Young Master and ended up in their capture… Wait. Was his wife killed because of you? Suddenly, you feel constricted. The huge beast you're riding on becomes tiny and small. In front of this man, you are as defenseless as a chicken — disposed of by his slightest whim. Your father must have surely known about his right-hand grudge and he wouldn't send you to certain death. Would he, though? You look down, trying to judge the distance from you to the land below. Should you jump? But it's too high… You look up and see Uncle Tao staring at you. He doesn't speak and you don't ask, but the answer is clear in his burdened, torn between vengeance and loyalty gaze. He doesn't move his eyes and you do not possess the right to do so. After a minute of intolerable stillness, you speak. "Do you hate me, Uncle Tao?" "My feelings are irrelevant to my duty." — he states — "But remember: your actions do have consequences." With that, he turns back around. With his gaze now directed way ahead, the pressure is also lifted. You breathe out in relief and decide it is a good idea to keep your mouth shut for the rest of your travels. #"I've always assumed you had a crush on my father." *gosub_scene subroutines change_opinion 2 1 "-" You quip, using laughter as a tool to lighten up the heavy atmosphere. Uncle Tao, however, doesn't appreciate your joke. At the time of his birth — in a prehistoric era, probably — the human species had not yet evolved enough to have a sense of humor. "There are certain matters you shouldn't jest about, child." You feel his previous rage intensify. It threatens to erupt and burst, his burning fury dousing you in an ice-cold bath. You swallow, hard. "Did something happen to her?" — you ask, not quite understanding the reason for such ardent response. "She was murdered." *goto repeated_text2 #"She sounds quite special." *gosub_scene subroutines change_opinion 2 2 "+" "For every dragon, there is a rider. For chaos, there is always order." — Uncle Tao reminisces, agonizing nostalgia flashing in his expression — "She was, indeed." Was? Why would he talk about his wife in the past tense? Unless… "Did something happen to her?" — you ask. "She was murdered." *goto repeated_text2 #"That good of a lay?" *gosub_scene subroutines change_opinion 2 3 "-" *gosub_scene subroutines change_personality 2 "indulgent" "+" How good does sex have to be, to make a freedom-worshiping demon into a slave of the laws? You lick your lips, your imagination envisioning her prowess in the sack with the most graphic details. Suddenly, the fenghuang becomes unsteady. It hurls and tumbles in the air. You raise your eyes to discover the reason for its behavior, yet find your own throat clenched by an iron grip instead. Uncle Tao stands — yes, stands on the unruly beast, balancing on its wild body as if he stood on land — before you. With one hand, he rips the belts securing you in the saddle. With the other, he lifts you in the air with the same ease a mother hen lifts its chicks. You try to struggle, try to break free, but the barrage of your trained fists deflects from his steel-like arms. You choke, and feel your vision darken — but Uncle Tao doesn't care. "I should kill you for your insolence." — he moves you so that your feet dangle above the sky. Your eyes widen in fear as you calculate the distance to the ground and determine your chances of surviving the fall to be zero. That is, if Uncle Tao doesn't twist your neck first. After a few more seconds, Uncle Tao calms down. He puts you back, though now you have to constantly keep guard and don't lose hold of the saddle. "Remember: your words and actions have consequences." — he warns you — "Others will not be so merciful." With that, he turns back around. With his gaze now directed way ahead, the pressure is also lifted. You breathe out in relief and decide it is a good idea to keep your mouth shut for the rest of your travels. *page_break Next *goto_scene tournament_1