Ling Bo awoke with a sneer on his face, knowing that today the farce of a tournament will be going down, a pretext to flaunt meager strength in front of a collosal force, wagging tails like pitiful strays and hoping for recognition...

A sad and pitiful reality in a world where a single dispute amongst youths can lead to the extermination of one's whole bloodline.

Nevertheless Ling Bo honored the day with a bow and burning stick of incense. He leaned back into his bed, eyeing the ceiling in contemplation.

Sighing he inclined his head, the first of many important events was about to take place, events that would change him forever. And the surreality of it all simply caught up to him. A new world, new people... a whole new life.

He called for Little Xi and in his role as mere, disabled mortal let himsef be vested by the cute maid in a sleeveless fawn tunic with a clawing eagle embroidered atop. There was little enjoyment in clothing oneself, but if it was a coy and cute girl doing it, well, the morning would look brighter.

The fierce raptor was knit with silky strands of various shades of bloody red, seeming alive like no other image could, thirsting to scratch out some poor fella's eyeballs with glistening talons.

Little Xi excused herself with peachy cheeks. Having felt and sized up her lionhearted master for a good dozen minutes she couldn't help but take her leave, her heart beating out of her chest.

Seeing her exit like a frightened fawn left Ling Bo with a smile suffusing his lips.

He gave a little laugh and crouched down, reaching beneath his straw bed. He drew out a thin piece of cloth with a blazing red feather stitched to it. Ling Bo bound it around his head as an impromptu bandana and gave a slight sigh.

"So today is the day, huh...", he whispered and fiddled with his thumbs in idleness, waiting for his father to escort him to the tournament plaza.

***

Zhu Xiao's heart sank to the ground when he stood before his son's room. His mouth was dry, his brow cold and sweaty, hands trembling and knees weak. He inhaled deeply, fresh gusts of air storming through his lungs with the power of roaring bellows.

The hallowed essence of the heavens and earth streamed through his body, every pore openning up and gulping heaps of the divine strength. With a throb the aggragated energy excitedly nurished his body, enlivening his courage.

"Alright...", Zhu Xiao told himself. "Alright!"

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He grasped the handle and flung the door open, his eyes landing on the dashing youngster. Zhu Xiao involuntarily nodded to himself. 'Not bad', he thought and approached his son with a tremoring heart.

Seeing Ling Bo hale and at good health, yet at the same time without the faintest ounce of heavenly essence turned Zhu Xiao's roiling heart frantic.

He cupped one of his son's hands, noticing how week and feeble they seemed now that they lost the heaven's grace, and said gravely: "Do. Not. Move. A. Muscle!", each word left his coarse throat with growing gravity.

Not sparing another breath he unleashed hundreds of fine tethers, spinning and woving; creating together an intricate blanket of inner force. He threaded those subtle fibres into Ling Bo's core, hoping to unearth his innermost workings.

But what those curious feelers came across was not the vast world of the Dantian, but instead, a yawning chasm, a gaping void; hungry, nay, ravenous, and most certainly dangerous.

Like a tiny fish swimming through thousand oceans he felt himself turn insignifant in front of this mortal shell.

Zhu Xiao tried to peer inside the arcane abyss but felt a wave of nausea and acrid pain hitting him square. He recoiled and stumbled, falling to the ground with a thud and a cold sweat running down his back.

In the moment his spirit retreated he felt a sheer terror crawl up his spine, as if he shouldn't have ever treaded into this unholy ground; and he could swear, something had been watching him, something wicked, something godless, something... unspeakable.

A monstrosity, an abomination, looming above the cosmos, devouring, destroying...

"Father!", Ling Bo cried out and moved forward to support him.

But the moment he came close Zhu Xiao brushed him off with a heavy hand. "D-Don't touch me! Don't you dare, ever, touch me!", livid and ashamed Zhu Xiao charged out of the room, without even as much as looking Ling Bo in the eyes.

"A bad omen... A bad omen!", Zhu Xiao muttered like a lunatic, barelling across the halls with unsteady steps, his mind far away.

***

"What?!", Ling Bo uttered, full of shock and disbelief.

He couldn't even imagine what could cause his father to show such a range of emotions, from fear to despair and primeval terror.

"Sheesh, whatever. Guess I'll go alone then, what did I expect even expect?", following his father's example he left the room with a snide remark.

***

The Red Feather Clan.

An awe-inspiring name that all the mortals of the Three Season province look up to. With the Little Spring and Verdant Parlor they share the top three spots of Three Season's clan rankings, as well as part of each others territory.

Those three giants carefully sustain a brittle balance, agreeing on a ceasefire early on in their creation. Though muted, conflicts still arise between these factions, from small skirmishes on the streets to full-blown raids on resource convoys, plantations and mines.

Naturally all those are chalked up as brutal and rowdy bandit activity, but the discliples know better. From early on they are forced down the beliefs that they stand at the top, that others are way beneath them.

Nonetheless this false sense of peace keeps on prevailing, fooling none but the mortals...

But today, amongst all the bloody scrambles and disrespectful snarks, the Little Spring sect and Verdant Parlor came to the Red Feather clan with heads bowed, meek and deferential.

Elders that had once threatened to kill one another gave each other brawny hugs and a friendly pat on the back while the disciples trailing behind where all smiles.

"Sect Master Zhu Xiao.", a peculiar portly man shouted aloud, giving mighty face to the Red Feather Sect as he himself was the Verdant Parlor's headmaster, Rhong Muzo.

His ample stomach trembled just like his sweat-glistening thatch of hair. Full of smiles and wrapped in a gaudy robe people would suspect this man to be a wealthy merchant and not an expert well-versed in martial arts.

Though as Rhong Muzo saw Zhu Xiao's disheveled appearance and spooked countenance he couldn't help but pause, a gloating smirk trying to surface. Whatever it was that terrified the sectmaster so, it could only be a good thing to him.

He was just about to call out once more when the rowdy voices and unruly youngsters suddenly quieted down.

Rhong Muzo looked skywards, a vast shadow blotching out the sun, and amidst that sinister eclipse a maiden with hair like corona stepped down through the air. She was the light in the darkness. A wisp, spark of divinity, guiding one through the bleakest times.

Silent, only displacing the air slightly, the shadow at her back vanished, an old man taking its place.

"Good lord, they actually came... The venerated Bright Moon Sectmaster and its future Saintess. Heavens am I really not dreaming?", an elder mumbled incredulously, pinching himself once and voicing what was on everyone's mind.