The Jade Wager pulsed with a frenetic energy, a chaotic symphony of desperation and greed that struck Tian Hao like a crashing wave. He flinched, his jaw tightening. He couldn't afford to lose his composure here. He flinched slightly, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. He couldn't afford to lose his composure here.

The air was thick with the aroma of stale wine, sweat, and desperation. The clamor of shouting gamblers, the clatter of jade tiles, and the rhythmic rattle of dice in wooden cups created a chaotic symphony that grated on his nerves. He felt a growing unease, the shadows of his past mingling with the dimly lit den’s oppressive atmosphere.

They settled at a gambling table, its surface etched with intricate formations that shimmered faintly under the dim light.

Jiuwei, her small form a blur of silver, slipped away, vanishing into the crowd like a wisp of smoke. Her presence dimmed as she activated her shadow-concealing technique. The shadows seemed to embrace her, making her blend seamlessly, her figure becoming almost invisible, her shadow a fleeting whisper against the den’s flickering lanterns.

She made her way out of the main gambling rooms and into a maze of dimly lit corridors, each one reeking of fear and the lingering scent of cheap incense. Every step was deliberate, each breath controlled.

She paused, her ears twitching, honing in on the sound of hushed voices emanating from a back room. The voices, low and guttural, carried an undercurrent of menace. Each word was a shadow, a secret she swore she had smelled previously.

Slipping through a crack in the doorway, she slid into the room unnoticed, her small size granting her access where others would have faltered.

Inside, several Iron Talon disciples huddled around a low table, their dark robes blending into the room's dimly lit interior. The flickering light of a single spirit lamp cast their faces into sharp relief, shadows stretching and twisting like the secrets they whispered.

Their voices were a mix of excitement and barely concealed malice. Jiuwei focused her senses, carefully attuning to the auras in the room.

None of them were strong—only Body Refining stage cultivators. But that didn’t mean she could relax. The Iron Talon Sect was never careless. If these were the ones they allowed to gather openly, who was lurking unseen? Reinforcements could be just a signal away.

Jiuwei’s ears twitched. She remained motionless, hidden in the deeper shadows, waiting for any hint that she wasn’t the only silent observer in the room.

“The meeting is set,” one of them growled, his voice rough as granite. "The Silken Shadows Parlor. Midnight."

He leaned forward, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a half-empty wine cup. "Elder Ren expects progress. The last shipment from the western mines was light, and the alchemists are already restless. If we don’t secure new sources soon… well, you know how our patrons get when their supply chain is disrupted."

Another disciple scoffed. "If the weaker sects refuse to see reason, we'll make an example of one. The Conclave has too many cowards hiding behind decorum. They need to be reminded of what real power looks like."

The first disciple nodded. "That’s why the meeting is so important. We aren’t just here to play games with merchants. The Sect needs allies who understand the value of strength. Now, make sure the others are ready. We can't afford any mistakes."

Meanwhile, back at the gambling den, Tian Hao sat stiffly, his discomfort radiating outwards like a beacon of unease. His hands, normally relaxed, fidgeted nervously as he looked at the flashing tiles.

A hulking cultivator, his face scarred and his aura radiating a barely restrained aggression, slammed a fistful of spirit stones onto the table, his voice a booming challenge. "Double or nothing!" he roared, his eyes gleaming with manic excitement.

Tian Hao's stomach churned at the sight. The recklessness, the casual disregard for consequences—it reminded him too much of his own past, his father's ruined smile, the way each loss was met not with acceptance but denial. He shuddered, his body tensing with the echoes of a past he desperately wanted to escape, each clink of spirit stones like a hammer blow against a door he’d thought he’d locked away for good.

“Are you alright, Tian Hao?” Lin Mei asked, her voice low, concern lacing her usually sharp tone.

Tian Hao forced a smile, hoping she wouldn't see the flicker of fear in his eyes, the tension that gripped him like a vise. "Fine, Mei Mei, just admiring the… local customs."

“Is the Young Master afraid to gamble?” Lin Mei asked, her words more teasing than judgment. “I thought you believed in a Dao of Hedonism. Isn’t gambling just another form of… indulgence?”

Her words, though light, struck a chord within him, sharp as a blade glliding across old scars. The distant clatter of jade tiles against wood, the acrid bite of stale smoke curling in his lungs—he was no longer in the den. He was back there. The air grew heavier, thick with memories he had spent years trying to bury. The moment stretched, the weight of it dragging him under. Then, the walls of the Jade Wager peeled away, and the past swallowed him whole.

The flickering fluorescent lights buzzed, casting long, sickly shadows across his father’s face. Deep lines carved into his skin, desperation etched into every crease.

The clatter of tiles. The rhythmic shuffling. Hushed whispers threading through the smoky air. The soundtrack of Tian Hao’s childhood. A never-ending refrain, one that always ended the same way.

His father’s hand trembled. Coins clinked together, the last of them piled onto the table with shaking fingers. His voice, a hoarse whisper. "Double or nothing." The words slurred, teetering between defiance and inevitability. His eyes gleamed—not with certainty, but with a manic, fragile hope. A hope that always faded, crumbling into dust the moment the tiles were revealed.

Then, home. If it could be called that.

The stench of cheap alcohol. The bitter bite of cigarettes clung to his father’s clothes, thick, suffocating. Tian Hao’s stomach twisted. The acrid smoke coiled in his lungs. Harder to breathe.

His head swam. Dizziness crept in at the edges of his vision. He swallowed hard. It didn’t help. The nausea remained—a sickening weight in his gut.

Every breath tasted of something rotten. Something inescapable. A haze of failure. Decay lingering just beneath the surface.

A sudden shift. An eruption.

"Useless! Worthless!"

A fist, the crack of bone against flesh. His mother stumbling. The sickening sound of impact burned into his mind, permanent, inescapable.

Tian Hao curled into the corner, small, insignificant. His heart pounded, too loud, too fast. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Maybe if he stayed still enough, small enough, he would disappear.

But the shouting never stopped. The strikes never ceased. And the cycle always repeated.

Each scene played in a loop, again and again, each strike of the fist, each slap, a crack, a fracture in what he once dreamed might, someday, perhaps even become a happy life.

“It’s not… that simple,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Tian Hao?” Lin Mei’s voice, soft and concerned, pulled him back to the present, to her hand resting on his own now. Her touch a gentle pressure that settled the riotous memories, “Are you alright?”

He blinked, the flashback fading, replaced by the harsh reality of the gambling den. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, the shame of that past still burning in his gut, and nodded. “Fine, just… not a fan of gambling.” His true feelings bleeding into what remained of his forced smile.

“Indeed, Little Hao,” Big Sister System’s voice echoed in his mind, its usual smoothness laced with an almost imperceptible undercurrent, a whisper of something older, something patient. “It’s never that simple. But then again, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Her tone, so often playful, carried a weight that made his skin prickle. “Perhaps,” she mused, “this is less about fortune and more about inevitability. A chance to untangle the knots of your past, to see whether you will bind yourself tighter in fear—or cut yourself free.”

The pause that followed was measured, a space left for Tian Hao to flinch. “Growth always comes at a cost. And courage?” She exhaled in something almost like laughter, but not quite. “That requires you to gamble, even when the stakes feel too high. But don’t worry, Little Hao. You won’t be gambling alone.”

A surge of understanding struck him. It came fast, relentless, like a tide crashing against the fragile defenses of his mind. He recoiled, instinctively resisting, but the knowledge poured in, unstoppable.

Threads of celestial intent wove through his meridians, etching themselves into his very being. It was not gentle, not some grand enlightenment—it was a forced rewriting, a reshaping of what he was, what he might yet become.

The sensation was sharp, invasive, a gamble played with stakes he had not agreed to. Yet, beneath the discomfort, there was something else. Something undeniable.

Fortune's Favor.

The name burned itself into his thoughts, heavy with unspoken meaning. Not simply a technique. A pact. A wager sealed in fate’s hands. The power coiled within him, restless, whispering of both opportunity and ruin, as if daring him to cast the dice and see where they would fall. He could feel it coiling within him, a restless, unpredictable force, whispering of opportunity and ruin in equal measure.

“Seriously, Big Sister?!” Tian Hao’s internal voice, usually filled with playful banter, now carried shock and hurt. “You’re giving me a gambling skill? After all that? Are you mocking me?” His words echoed the whispers of his father's curses, the way his own failures were always amplified, his attempts at something good or powerful turned instead to ash and scorn.

“Do not confuse your father’s failings with your own potential, Little Hao. You are not him. This skill, Fortune’s Favor—it’s not about recklessness, it's about calculated risk. About embracing uncertainty, about understanding that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, there’s always a chance for triumph. It is a gift, not an insult, or some continuation of the cycle. Only someone with your unique resilience and strength could wield it effectively.” Her voice became warmer now as if to comfort him, though the subtle, hidden edge still there as a quiet warning. “A true cultivator understands the Dao of Risk and Reward. Besides,” she added, her tone shifting to playful sarcasm, “who knows, maybe you’ll finally win something for a change?”

Tian Hao sat there, stunned for a moment. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of the unfamiliar power now surging through him. He felt the energy from the Fortune’s Favor technique settling within him, like molten fire winding its way into every fiber of his being. The strange amalgamation of excitement and unease churned within him, swirling through him like the dice in a gambler’s cup, his mind torn between the thrill of newfound strength and the dread of what it represented — what it forced him to remember.

His mind racing. "This doesn’t make sense though. It is not like you to give such... dangerous gifts. Especially when tied to such pain.” He shook his head slowly.

“There is power in accepting what one fears,” she finally said. “Perhaps, with time and practice, what once hurt you will become a way to face yourself, little Hao.”

“This skill, as potent and dangerous as it surely is, this is… for me? And for my own struggles? Or do you see this as another stepping stone for me to complete your own games, or some grander scheme of the heavens?” he internally whispered back at her.

She sighed as though exasperated, though he thought he caught a hint of her laughter, soft and low before he heard her usual tone.

“Think what you wish, little Hao. Your cynicism doesn’t always serve you, you know. But why should I even bother explaining myself to someone so convinced that their own life is merely a tale woven for someone else’s amusement, as if even a mere mortal could ever comprehend the heavens? Maybe it's easier for you to doubt, to hide behind skepticism, rather than face the possibilities in front of you.” She let that last part linger, like a cliff’s edge daring him to consider whether the abyss below might now become his path forward. “But you still want something, don’t you Tian Hao? A way to repay what has been taken, not just from you but from those you have started to care for. If you won’t see it, feel it, then I won’t waste words trying to convince you. Just try not to… gamble away… your own fortune.”

Tian Hao frowned, his thoughts circling like a vulture over a dying beast. It didn’t make sense. Big Sister System’s insistence that there was more to this so-called celestial technique gnawed at him. A high-level gambling skill? That was just the surface. He could feel it in his bones—there was something deeper, something waiting beneath the layers she refused to unveil.

His fingers twitched against the table. What was she playing at? She had guided him this far, yes, but for what purpose? He could almost hear the mirth in her voice, that ever-present, knowing amusement. He found that about her endlessly frustrating. She always seemed to be several steps ahead, orchestrating moves he didn’t even know he was making.

A hint of a weary acceptance settled over him, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Could she truly be right? Could this be for his benefit, not another unseen gambit? The weight of her words pressed against his mind, heavy with the knowledge that she had never steered him entirely wrong, even when her methods felt more like manipulation than guidance.

Yet, what choice did he have? He had invested too much, walked too far down this path to turn back now. If he refused, if he doubted too much, where did that leave him? Adrift, without anchor or direction. That was more frightening than her schemes — which so far had been for his benefit, hadn't they?

Even if it echoed his past, it was different this time. Wasn’t it? This wasn’t a father gambling away their future in a haze of desperation—this was him, grasping at something tangible, something that could make him stronger. A test, perhaps. A leson he had yet to comprehend. The past was a noose, but perhaps this skill was the knife to cut himself free.

It seemed less of a punishment now and more like a bridge toward something greater, something just beyond his current grasp. If he had to take this step, then so be it. If she was playing a game, he would learn the rules and play it better.

Just then, Jiuwei returned. "I’ve overheard their plans,” she whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the den’s clamor. “There’s a meeting tomorrow night. At the Silken Shadows Parlor, Midnight. Key figures from the local branch of the Iron Talon Sect, and their allies. It seems they’re gathering information on the other sects attending the Conclave. Or at least those they deem worthy of their… attention.”

Lin Mei and Tian Hao exchanged glances. The Iron Talon Sect was making its move, consolidating its power, their schemes now laid bare.

Just as they got up, Tian Hao noticed a shift in the room, a subtle tension in the air as a group of Iron Talon disciples near one of the doors to the back rooms turned to look at them. One of them, a brute with a scarred face, narrowed his eyes. Recognition flickered in his gaze before he nudged his companions. He pointed towards their table and Tian Hao heard two names that made the weight of their recent actions feel suddenly heavy and present: “Tian Hao. Lin Mei.”

Tian Hao’s eyes locked onto the Iron Talon disciple’s, and a jolt ran through him, sharp and undeniable. Recognition flickered in the man’s gaze, a split-second shift in his expression that sent a prickle of warning down Tian Hao’s spine. They’d been made.

His stomach lurched. A cold certainty settled over him, heavy and suffocating. No time to think, no time to plan—just move.

He scanned the room in a heartbeat. The exit to the left was closer but packed with bodies. The main entrance? Too exposed. Too many eyes. Too many risks.

His pulse hammered in his ears, each beat drowning out the chaos around him. The clatter of dice, the raucous laughter, the murmur of low-stakes deals—it all blurred into irrelevance. Only escape mattered now.

Lin Mei tensed beside him, sensing the shift.

“Go,” he muttered, his grip tightening around her wrist. No further explanation was needed.

Without hesitation, he yanked her toward the side exit, their movements quick but controlled. They couldn’t afford to be caught, not here.

“Time for a tactical retreat, Mei Mei,” he muttered as they moved quickly towards the exit, her footsteps echoing his own.

Jiuwei darted ahead, her small form weaving through the crowd with an agile grace, her movements almost too quick to follow. A flicker of silver, effortless, seamless—gone in an instant.

“Follow me,” she hissed, her voice a barely audible whisper in their ears, “and try to keep up, mortals. Unless you want to become… decorations for the Jade Wager’s… less reputable clientele.”

Tian Hao and Lin Mei, however, had no such luxury. They shoved forward, trying to move quickly without drawing more attention. A shoulder bumped into Lin Mei. Tian Hao barely avoided tripping over a toppled chair. Their escape was a clumsy contrast to Jiuwei’s effortless glide, the crowd sucking at them like quicksand.

Jiuwei’s voice hissed in their ears. "Move faster. Or don’t bother moving at all."

Finally they slipped out a side door and into the maze of Skyveil City’s alleyways.

They moved away quickly, hearts pounding. The Iron Talon Sect would not let this go. The weight of the Iron Talon’s pursuit now heavy, as if their own shadows had become hunting dogs set upon them.