John shouldered his backpack, the mountain looming in the distance. A flock of crows watched his departure, their caws echoing in his mind. It struck him as odd, yet oddly comforting, that they seemed to be following him, one crow acting as a scout while the others maintained a distance – almost like a rear guard. As he walked, his mind drifted to the lightning strike – a jagged, unnatural bolt that seemed almost like a digital code spilling from the atmosphere. He then thought about the Tai Chi forms he'd been practicing, and the idea of naming the movements began to form in his mind. He imagined himself moving through the forms, each one flowing into the next, and wondered what he'd call them.

"Maybe I should call the first one 'The Front cast,'" he mused aloud, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right. Another move could be called 'The Back cast.' And a third, perhaps, 'The Side cast.' He pondered the next move. Something like 'Setting the Hook' came to mind, but it felt too aggressive. He wanted something more circular, like 'The World Turn' or 'The Endless Loop.' "Max," John said, "I'm thinking about the names for these Tai Chi moves. Any ideas?" Max responded, "Since you're focusing on circular movements, have you considered something that emphasizes the circular nature of Tai Chi, like 'The Gathering' or 'The Return'?"

John pondered this, realizing Max had a point. Perhaps a name that reflected the cyclical nature of the movements would be more fitting. Then he thought about the river's current. Movements with the current could be called something different than those against it. "What about casting with the current or against it?" John mused. "Maybe 'Into the Current' could be an attacking Style, and 'Against the Current' could be a defensive one." Just as he was starting to get excited about the possibilities, a loud crow squawk interrupted his thoughts. The bird seemed agitated, its wings fluttering in an agitated manner.

The path soon split in two. One branch led deeper into the woods, while the other seemed to climb higher towards a different part of the mountain. The crow landed on a rock, facing the uphill path, and squawked again. Realizing the crow might be trying to communicate something, John followed the uphill path. As he walked, he noticed something strange – the trees had changed. Towering pines had given way to a grove of bamboo. "Max," John said, puzzled. "There's bamboo here. Would bamboo be able grow this far north?" Max searched its database. "That's odd," it replied. "I can't find any records of bamboo in this area."

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John stopped, looking around. The path led deeper into the bamboo grove. A sense of Deja vu washed over him. He had a feeling he was entering somewhere he shouldn't be, but also a sense of excitement. It was as if he was being guided, almost honored to be part of something bigger. There was something familiar about this place, a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. He couldn't quite place it, but it felt significant. It was like he was on the verge of remembering something crucial. As he continued, the path opened up to a small clearing with a pond at its center. The water was still and clear, surrounded by a carpet of green. But it wasn't the pond that caught his attention – it was what grew around it. Everywhere he looked, there were clovers. And among them, a single four-leaf clover stood out.

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The crow that had been following him landed on a rock near the pond, its eyes fixed on the four-leaf clover. It squawked again, seeming almost impatient. John felt a pull towards the clover, as if it were a beacon calling to him. Without hesitation, he reached down and plucked the four-leaf clover from the ground. The moment his fingers touched the clover, a surge of something flowed through him. It felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, unlocking something deep within his soul. A vision flashed before his eyes – the lightning strike, the crows, the bamboo forest – it all connected, forming a strange, almost mystical pattern.

"The Nano line," he whispered, a realization dawning on him. He looked at the crow, which seemed to nod in response before taking off into the trees. John turned to follow the crow, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. The crow's agitated squawks seemed to be urging him to hurry. He had a feeling he was on the right track, and he wouldn't stop until he reached the end of this mysterious path. The other crows, acting as a rear guard, had turned and were now following behind him.

As they neared the end of the bamboo grove, the path widened, revealing a breathtaking vista. The mountain, once a distant silhouette, loomed large before him. But it wasn't the mountain that captured John's attention. Carved into the side of it was a massive symbol, something ancient and otherworldly. And as if on cue, the lead crow let out a triumphant cry, before disappearing into the undergrowth.

John approached the symbol, his heart pounding in his chest. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, a complex pattern of lines and curves that seemed to glow with an inner light. As he reached out to touch it, a sense of familiarity washed over him. It was the same feeling he'd had when he touched the crow feather.

Running his fingers over the symbol, John felt a connection, as if the ancient carving was part of him. A realization hit him like a wave. The symbol wasn't just a random pattern; it was a language, and somehow, he understood it. He stood there for a long moment, his mind racing. The symbol, the crows, the lightning strike – they were all connected, pieces of a puzzle he was slowly putting together. And he had a feeling that the answer to everything he was looking for was hidden within this ancient carving. As he traced the lines of the symbol with his finger, as he felt the symbol, he realized it wasn't just a code, it was binary coding, it was asking a question. The lines and curves formed a sentence, a query written in the ancient code. It read, "Are you the fly or the fish?" John pondered the question. John looked up at the symbol, he replied his voice having a confidence tone. "NEITHER I'M THE FISHERMAN!" The moment the words left his lips, a blinding light erupted from the symbol, engulfing john when the light faded the only thing left where john was just standing was a single crow feather