#2d conscript

[raitrolling]

📝 Glasya

Glasya sauntered out of their office, making their way over to their assistant's desk with a lazy yet amused smile on their face.

"Hey, Astera. Did you peep the latest FOI request?"

Astera looked up from her computer screen - then promptly sighed as their boss moved some files aside so they could sit on their desk, kicking their legs as they waved the printed copy of the aforementioned request.

"Glasya, can't you just bring your chair with you?" The greenblood stated with slight irritation.

"I'm the boss here, I do what I want," Glasya replied with a cheeky smile on their face, prompting another sigh from Astera.

"But, yes, I'm looking at it now. It's..." Astera peered in closer to her screen, squinting at the words in disbelief. "Oh, come on, really? This person wants proof for the Flat Alternia theory? What an idiot."

The indigoblood cracked up.

"Man, I know right? Would've dismissed it as a prank but nah, this dude's legit. Put a whole ten paragraphs about his research in the reasons why he needs this info, that's when you know you've got a real cooker," They say with a snort. "Anyway, so I've been looking up some memes we can send him-"

"Glasya, it's an official Freedom of Information request. We have to take it seriously," Astera cut them off before they could finish. They glanced back at the screen, and opened up the electronic database to begin a preliminary search.

"Booo, spoilsport," Glasya huffed, pulling a face of mock disappointment before resuming to their usual cheeky expression. "I'll send you 'em anyway, bet they'll crack a smile on your sour apple face."

Astera responded with nothing but an eyeroll.

The indigoblood snorted in amusement, as they did not expect anything different. Astera took everything seriously - too seriously, they felt, but they suppose they understood why. As the sole remaining survivor of the records manager's assistants, there was a heavy weight on her shoulders to perform at her absolute best and to pick up as much slack as possible. Especially when the manager of the department came across as someone who did not take anything seriously.

Glasya just wished she could feel like she could relax more. They weren't putting any pressure on her performance, that was purely her own doing. If anything, they'd rather she took more time off for herself and let them handle the entire records department.

They're the reason why there's been no new hires for assistant roles to replace the previous ones, after all. They still can't let go.

But, no time to bring down the mood again. They clear their throat, and pick a new joke to roll with.

"Hey, Astera, you think these conspiracy theory guys believe that we breathe in the atmosflat?"

Astera said nothing, but Glasya could see a hint of a smile on her face.

"What about the other planets? Do they think they're flat too or did we just luck out and end up on 2D world?"

That smile got a little more noticeable.

"And what about conscription? Imagine being one of those guys and leaving the planet for the first time. You think they're being like 'ah lads we got it wrong now, shit's a wholeass space basketball', or do they think that it's still flat and it's just always facing them every time they look out the window?"

Finally, Astera snorted.

"Glasya, oh my god."

"Damn, that last one was a real knee-slapper, huh?" They reply with a grin. "Didn't think it was that funny, but we take those."

"No, not your stupid comments - Look."

Astera pointed at her computer screen, prompting Glasya to hop off the desk and stand next to her for a better look.

On one of the monitors, a report from the archives titled 'Report #20033120: "Magically-Induced Mass Delusion Within Block 361 - Flat Alternia"' stared the two trolls right in their face.

Glasya's jaw dropped.

"My God, a wizard did it all along."

[gertlushgaming]

Rogue Legacy 2 Review (PlayStation 5)

  Our Rogue Legacy 2 Review (PlayStation 5) Review is what you'd get if you mashed our  Rogue Legacy Review with another one of those but a bit different together. Every time you die, your children will succeed you, and each child is unique. Your daughter might be a Colourblind Archer, and your son could be a Pacifistic Chef. Either way, one of them is getting conscripted.

Rogue Legacy 2 Review (PlayStation 5) Pros:

- Beautiful cartoon graphics and cutscenes. - 971.9MB Download size. - Platinum Trophy. - You get both the PlayStation 4 and the PlayStation 5 versions of the game. - Five save slots. - FREE on PlayStation Plus subs at the time of the review. - Transfer PlayStation 4 save option. - Super input mode allows tighter controls at the cost of screen tearing. -  Roguelike gameplay. - Three special modes - true Rogue, Thanatophobia, and Thana Two phobia. These change how the game is played if heirlooms or certain encounters are enabled and are generally harder. - Levels are more open and vertical. - Plays out in a 2D world. - Gameplay settings - toggle Hud fadeout, toggle kick, toggle hit slowdown, quick drop, dual button dash, if music plays when paused, and traits have scientific or nonscientific descriptions of traits. - New traversal techniques from spin attacking lanterns to travel up to shortcut pipes and aerial recovery techniques. - Tutorial pop-ups as you play. - Controller settings - aim fidelity slider, vibration, and dead one slider. You can rebind controls. - Lore desks to find. - Gameplay loop-you Play as a Knight and go through a castle, upon death, you come back as one of three random heirs with each one truly unique and usually having good traits and bad traits. - Coins- collected in-game and used to buy upgrades and use the skill tree. - Skill tree-put money into it and upon buying skills it builds up your castle in the background. - Main hub/town part before a new run where you can use unlocked merchants and services. - Blueprints-find these to unlock new blacksmith recipes. - Ridiculously addictive. - You lose any unspent gold when traveling back to the castle. - Minimap that's easy to read and uncovers rooms as you explore them. - The glossary describes all the status effects and commander buffs. - Every castle run is randomized. - The safe allows you to save a percentage of money before heading out. - Teleporter-used for fast travel. - Breakable objects and treasure chests for loot. - Every knight plays completely differently. - The end of the run gives a breakdown of the enemies killed and your route in the castle. - Easy to play with simple controls. - Fast travel points. - Damage numbers pop on the screen. - Addictive and fun. - Knight's traits can directly impact the world like no lighting, Colourblind mode and so much more. - Traits may not always be visible when selecting a new heir until you pick them, once you have used them they are then visible at the knight selection. - Armour and weapons can be found-they are then saved with the blacksmith in town and you pay to equip them each time. - Many secrets and hidden routes. - House rules allow you to change settings further - enemy health, enemy damage, a slow time when aiming, enable flight toggle, disable enemy contact damage, disable traits, burden requirement, change resolve, reveal all relics and abilities, toggle difficulty rating, and reset skill tree. - When you die you still get the Rogues gallery lineup of all the enemies you killed, but now you also get the map to fill out where you have been and where you killed people. - When going for an heirloom you are transported to a series of ever-increasing difficulty rooms and encounters. - Play how you want. - Really good level designs. - Infinite replay value. - You can lock the world once a life but it costs 20 percent of all collected gold.   Rogue Legacy 2 Review (PlayStation 5) Cons: - Feels like the same set of knights/heirs keep coming up. - Loads of annoying enemies can fire and move through the scenery. - Feels like a reskinned version of the first game. - Difficult. - RNG makes or breaks the run. - Doesn't explain the whole lot. Related Post: Brave Soldier Invasion of Cyborgs Review (PlayStation 5) Rogue Legacy 2 Official website. Developer: Cellar Door Games Publisher: Cellar Door Games Store Links - PlayStation Read the full article

[catchweightstudio]

For those unfamiliar, Conscript takes place during the Battle of Verdun, 1916. Verdun was one of the most horrific battles of the first World War - holding the record for the highest density of death of any modern battlefield. That is to say, that more people were killed per square yard in Verdun than any other battle before or since.  Naturally, this makes for a great setting for a classic survival horror game!

Wishlist Conscript on Steam: https://store.steampowered.com/app/1286990/CONSCRIPT/?beta=1

[phoenixtakaramono]

THE UNTOLD TALE - CH3 PREVIEW

There was an important takeaway to be had from tonight’s interaction: Shen Yuan had asserted his place as the lord of this residence and as Luo Binghe’s future ally.

Several thoughts had, however, been plaguing him ever since Shen Yuan gifted Luo Binghe the handscrolls, leaving like the composed gentleman he was while the half-demon pondered over the newfound revelations for the night. Those thoughts filled Shen Yuan’s brain with a renewed vigor that his exhausted body did not feel, roiling through his brain as he changed into his night clothes. Even now, lying down with his hands folded over his stomach, they consumed his mind as he stared up at the azure, gauzy canopy that looked eerily similar to the one in the guest bedchamber that Luo Binghe now slept in.

Wisps of hazy white rose from the lotus-shaped censer he’d brought to his bed. The coals within were still fresh in the copper, keeping him warm in the night, with the fragrance of sandalwood circulating within the room.

His unyielding companion, the blue text box, hovered above. Shen Yuan kept his gaze averted from it; he had read and reread the Chinese characters countless times that if he closed his eyes, he could still see the most recent notification engraved in his mind’s eye.

【Prediction! Future Event <<A NIGHT OF PASSION>> has been changed into <<LOADING CHEKHOV'S GUN>>. You have reached the conditions to clear the scenario. Countdown commencing. Reward: B-Points +50.】

The planes of his face were bathed in a soft blue glow as he ruminated. Shen Yuan couldn’t find it within him to feel any guilt or to throw blame at anyone other than himself. He’d unlocked the <<TRUE END>> main scenario and, judging by how the <<SYSTEM>> was not giving him a choice, he had to build that rapport between themselves and see that friendship through.

These are the seeds you’ve sown, Shen Yuan, he reminded himself. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He could only dig his hands into the soil and watch the seeds slowly bear fruit.

Bing gē—or, rather, Luo Binghe—was not a 2D character on paper; he was now a real person who breathed and talked and had a will of his own. Even so, Shen Yuan didn’t know the extent of the ramifications if an extraordinary “prodigy” gained self-awareness that he was the male protagonist of a fictional erotica series.

It’d be interesting. If someone found out one day that they were a precious existence in a world which catered to them, they’d naturally become arrogant. All the attractive people belonged to them, hearts were won over for no real reason, and enemies would be seen as less of a threat and more as an annoyance. Shen Yuan could envision it; Luo Binghe would probably behave more recklessly, confident in the fact that he was protected by plot armor. He’d be a spoilt menace in a male power fantasy world—until the novelty wore off, and then the boredom set in.

The corners of Shen Yuan’s mouth curved. He didn’t know how likeminded Luo Binghe was, but if he thought like he did, he’d exploit his advantages.

A protagonist’s existence was akin to a cockroach, dragged from door’s death each time without fail.

This was not merely a case of schadenfreude—another difficult foreign term he’d learned during his pursuit as a novelist—where he reveled in another person’s misfortunes. It was a well-established trope in all forms of literature that when a person was casually dropped into a life-or-death situation, they would resurface as calamities. Since Luo Binghe was an important main character, he would naturally benefit.

...Sorry, youngster. Shen Yuan raised a white flag in commiseration for him in his heart. I didn’t mean to conscript you, but you must continue to work hard. Nationalistic pride exists among many Chinese writers.

Even pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had not been exempt from that.

In most narratives, the protagonist’s role was to rise above the rest and “smash the system.” Shen Yuan squinted up at the UI, his eyes beginning to water from its bright glow. He blinked rapidly, but the strain in his eyes refused to ease.

He swore in his head. This better not be the sort of tale where he and Luo Binghe had to compete to establish who was the one true protagonist, having to assert narrative dominance. Shen Yuan had no intention of pulling aggro to himself.

Raising a forearm up to shadow his vision, he groaned. He declared to no one, “Airplane brother, you’ve done your first son a great disservice.”

(He’d done a disservice to the original Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan as well as among many others.)

The events that had played out tonight strengthened Shen Yuan’s conviction. He could now see how people easily fell for his act; the charisma of a stallion protagonist was potent. Even so, he had capitalized on goodwill—and Luo Binghe’s strange fixation—hoping continuous acts of kindness being demonstrated toward him would soften him toward Shen Yuan and prove his intentions were sincere.

Should he prove himself to be of use, surely even somebody like Bing gē would not discard him during his rise to power or see him as a threat?

The only method he could foresee showing his fellow protagonist that his services were indispensable was by lending him his wisdom—and his predictions on the account of Shen Yuan being a <<FORTUNETELLER>>. His goal to leave a favorable impression with the other protagonist was already well underway, with the aim of establishing how it would be in Luo Binghe’s best interests to remember Shen Yuan’s acts of compassion and to return them tenfold in the future unless he wished to owe the celestial favors.

He recalled the last question he’d asked of him before Shen Yuan left, regarding the compatibility of his fated one.

Would it be strange if I wrote a predestined romance, for once? As much as Shen Yuan favored subverting expectations, he was aware of what sold commercially. There was a structure that made their literature different from those in the Western market whose shocking narratives could not only arouse pity in their audience, but also a sense of awe, excitement, fear, and suffering.

Their protagonists were not always someone of high society; they often hailed from humble origins as a device for the writer to underscore the merits of working hard and to criticize the system—a fictional one though, to avoid absolute censorship by the Chinese government. Their heroes began as nothing more than a windblown leaf in the social structure and years of ethical traditions set in place. They started on the bottom rungs of society to draw people’s attention to their lives, to the injustice and unfairness, which made their struggles all the more impactful to the reader.

The fates of the leading characters were tied to the juxtaposition of the harmonious ideal of society and the reality of a flawed system. Chinese tales were inherently romantic oftentimes, with tragic conflicts written to emphasize the beauty of a bond and rousing sympathy and pity for their plight. The archetype of a tragic hero was meant to be presented so profoundly that great reverence would well up spontaneously in one’s heart.

In his opinion, Luo Binghe had suffered plenty.

Under normal circumstances, as Peerless Cucumber, Shen Yuan was the sort of novelist where it would not be considered strange for him to challenge the romantic notion of soulmates by making his leading characters comrades or adversaries instead of lovers.

It was like the overseas Inception movie; he’d satirized enough old and tired clichés, it almost became expected of him to subvert expectations for all of his publications.

Guilt weighed on his mind. While he understood the implicit reality of his situation, he still felt like he was, in some way, disappointing his audience. The shame he felt was bizarre.

He swallowed. “My cherished readers...,” Shen Yuan murmured to the void as though they could hear him, “forgive this writer if I don’t subvert your expectations in this aspect just this once.”

The harem was the closest Luo Binghe had to a family. After the parental kindness of the washerwoman was torn away from him early in his life, after having endured the unhealthy environment that followed, the only love and tenderness he received in his life came in the arms of beautiful women. Tokens of affection were given in the form of intimate acts. It was no wonder Bing gē’s character had ended up twisted. He collected lovers with a greed not unlike a hedonistic minister who accepted bribes.

What a complicated man. Shen Yuan’s heart ached for the “blackened hero.”

There were so many women in the harem. In the presence of Luo Binghe, each one was gentle, kind, respectful, and submissive. But it was unrealistic for one husband, who had undergone the traumas that he had, to share his heart equally amongst them and not expect any misgivings.

What this Luo Binghe needed was a foil to his temperament, somebody patient, charismatic, and well-educated. Since Luo Binghe would be uniting the Three Realms, they needed to be proactive keeping him in check from becoming a self-indulgent, fatuous ruler. They cannot be sensitive to criticisms and speculation. A sensible head was needed on their shoulders to guide their merciless husband in understanding right from wrong and from any sycophants looking to lead him astray. It was integral to help the protagonist maintain a harmonious empire so that, together, they could lead a golden age of reform.

Shen Yuan wondered if there even existed such an extraordinary person.

Luo Binghe’s reputation was already in tatters in the Mortal Realm on the account of having a demonic heritage and having razed down the great righteous sects. Whatever goodwill he’d originally cultivated with his deceptive “nice guy” act had to be regained. Winning the war against the son of heaven and finding a good match would be integral in swaying public opinion to his favor. In public, they must present a united front, ruthless against their adversaries but dependable towards their subjects. It was only over time that the Sacred Rulers would prove themselves worthy of being idolized and beloved by the masses.

The <<SYSTEM>> had said that he and Luo Binghe should work together and in the end, they would unlock the epilogue that blessed them with their star-crossed lovers.

Until such a person was found, he supposed he could step into the role as his counsel whenever Luo Binghe needed advice. It was like tossing a peach and getting a plum back. Celestial or not, Shen Yuan used to be the son of a family of manufacturing executives. His profession might have been as an author, but he was educated in the principles of economics. Aside from sharing the <<PROTAGONIST’S HALO>>, his modern knowledge and his knowledge of both novel series were his cheats.

Like the spring breeze that thawed the frozen soil, he would be someone who reached into the abyss and grabbed that bloodstained hand. He could set a standard for Luo Binghe to emulate as the type of wise leader he should be, and his handsome junior could learn from his modern examples and put some of them into practice for his kingdom.

He’ll enable him into becoming the best person that he could be. And maybe, just maybe, the new era might be salvageable and worthy of pride for generations to come for not only the immortals and demons, but for the mortals as well.

“I’d redeemed you once,” Shen Yuan declared, his lashes fanning against his cheeks. He closed his eyes in reminiscence of his own fanfiction, inhaling the light, woody scent of the censer nearby. “I can do it again.”

In the meantime, he reflected, I must collect more merits. I cannot be lazy and lag behind in accomplishments.

While Luo Binghe fought his battles, Shen Yuan would be fighting his own—whatever they might be. He would not be outshone by his junior in his own meteoric rise.

“...System?” he inquired drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning on his side, he stared at a faraway wall. The glazed white surface of the porcelain pillow felt cold against his cheek, its smoothness reminiscent of jade. “Can you hear me?”

Ping.

【This <<SYSTEM>> provides the Esteemed Host a 24-hour service.】

“I don’t remember Airplane brother going into detail about what the education system is like in this setting. Is it supposed to be historically accurate to the ancient feudal model or…?”

Ping.

As he listened to the long encyclopedic explanation, what he’d heard confirmed his worst fears. Education was the privilege of the elites. Immortal cultivators prioritized studying matters of the “spiritual heart” and Qi refinement, in the martial and mystical arts, breaking through the bottleneck of each cultivation stage until their dedication allowed them to reach the pinnacle that was the Ninth Stage.

With that narrow-minded focus on self-enlightenment, the basic education curriculum of the twenty-first century would be seen as innovative in the pre-established setting of this strange world.

In the early webnovels, Bing gē had stagnated as a late-stage Core Formation expert. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, in his laziness to research the many intricate nuances of the Cultivation World, had waved it all away by attributing his protagonist’s OPness to his ancient, heaven-fallen demonic heritage and to the deus ex machina that was his legendary sword. Even then, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky still occasionally confused the Foundation Establishment with the Nascent Soul stages.

It wouldn’t be until the end of the series—after the outcry of the netizens—that the unsatisfied Luo Binghe made the breakthrough into the proper Nascent Soul stage with the help of his wives and their many gratuitous papapa scenes.

Then in the epilogue, the author had infuriatingly time-skipped all the way to the penultimate Ninth Stage, describing how Luo Binghe became a legend among legends who had finally attained eternal youth and aged back into his late twenties in his new immortal body after having miraculously passed the Heavenly Tribulations—disasters from heaven which were akin to nuclear radiation for those of demon blood. After an unspecified many years of rule, he’d left his legacy behind—with the uncountable size of his harem and a boundless number of his descendants “mourning the loss of a great and oftentimes misunderstood man.”

Just remembering it made Shen Yuan’s blood pressure spike dangerously. Taking deep, calming breaths, he rolled back onto his back as he forced himself to attain catharsis from listening to the mind-numbing exposition the <<SYSTEM>> was extolling to him like a history program. His fingers clenched the bed sheet.

Eventually he found himself feeling adrift, the words beginning to lose their coherency to him as he phased in and out of consciousness, his mind becoming wrapped in a haze of smoke. Soon his tense muscles relaxed.

The countdown had reached 00:00:00 when sleep finally claimed him.

Note: Small details of this scene might be subject to revision when the final draft comes out. Ch1-2 can be found on AO3. Link is in my bio!

[heliotrope-journey]

Good morning, vampire hunters.

We are pleased to inform you that Vlad III Dracula, also known to some as Son of the Dragon, is now available on Society6 for purchase. This is the first of his many, many appearances that you will see as we continue to delve into the events leading up to Treyton’s adventures whenever the pilot episodes are not being worked on. What you see right now is the Dark Lord’s physical form in the year 1962 when Florentin Chinezu and his company infiltrated his castle to save his brother. The Dark Lord typically wears this jacket to keep a low profile when traveling in public, but make no mistake. He is hiding his battle armor beneath that thick fabric just in case there’s an unlucky soul whose foolish enough to spar with him. At the time Florentin was looking for him, he didn’t need his jacket the entire time he’s been rejuvenated from his resurrection. He never even set foot out of his castle, however, that didn’t mean he was plotting his next move in the shadows. D:

https://society6.com/product/vlad-iii-dracula-in-the-year-1962_cards

And now, I present to you with Vlad the Impaler’s bio;

When the name “Dracula” is spoken, one does not always think of the beastly vampire that gained superiority amongst his kind and is feared as the Prince of Darkness. That is because in the human world, he is nothing more than a seductive count invented by a scribe that never set foot on Romanian soil. In the magical sector, especially in its Muslim population, the simple mention of his name in ordinary conversation would bring back traumatic memories of his tyranny and countless deaths of friends and family in the name of religious supremacy. Ethnic cleansing has always been the Dark Lord’s number one priority every time his followers raised him from the dead, however, he was not always the cruel, bloodthirsty, and monster that bore apathy for life on Terra. Once upon a time, Vlad Dracula Tepes was the voivode of Wallachia and a devoted father to his two children. He fought bravely as a soldier against Ottoman invaders during his reign and was viewed by his people as a war hero. It did not take long for Mehmed II, the empire’s sultan, to proclaim an order that every young boy living in Wallachia must be drafted in his army if friendly relations were to exist. The fearful prince was distraught to learn that his only son was among those conscripted and he knew perfectly well that resistance to the conscription is considered an act of war, therefore, the invasions will no doubt reoccur. Desperate to spare his son and Wallachia of this fate, Vlad sought help from a reclusive, ancient dark magic practitioner known as a solomonari that provided him with forbidden scrolls containing scripture that can aid him with confronting the inevitable. After seven years of study in the hidden school, Vlad had become a solomonari himself, allowing him to gain a tremendous advantage over the Ottoman Empire and ultimately rescue his son, but at the cost of his own humanity coupled with leaving his province at the mercy of his mentor’s cult. This forced one of Vlad’s trusted knights to turn his back on his order to assassinate the solomonari in question  before he reluctantly did the same to his voivode, ending the Dark Lord’s reign of terror before it had begun. Or so he assumed. Fifty-two years after his death, Vlad was brought back from the dead for the first time not as a man, but as a creature of the night that his kind have come to respect and fear. The now-Prince of Darkness would succeed the solomonari who taught him the dark arts as the cult’s new leader and his burning hatred for the human race festered in his black heart for the rest of his days. His brutal technique that involved leaving an enemy to die a slow, painful death after their impalement on a stake earned him the moniker, Vlad the Impaler. To this day, he is remembered in both the human and magical worlds as the most violent Islamophobe and the most powerful vampire lord respectively that the world has ever graced whether it wanted to or not.

Sincerely, WN

P.S. I’ll start examining portfolios of those who applied for the 2D artist opening on Upwork no later than this month and after applicants have been chosen, the third pilot episode will finally enter its development phase. We promise. ;)

[sights-on-the-scifi]

Violence in MASS EFFECT.

Alright Tumblr i’m gonna try even harder to satisfy your content laws... God I hope this posts.

MASS EFFECT 2 Marked a change in the creative direction of the series in many ways not just limited to style and presentation. But also in how it tackled violence in its narrative and gameplay.

It developed a near uncritical affection for its violence. Removing any semblance of scepticism towards its application with exception to a few storied and mechanical instances all for which will be talked about as we progress.

VIOLENCE IN GAMES AND OTHER FORMS OF MEDIA AS A WHOLE.

Before we begin ill like to explain to you why violence in a video game is so fun to the player on a mechanical basis. You see video game violence is complete fantasy that much is obvious just from looking at it I hope, it has no real basis in reality. For example the simple fact being that you are interacting with simulated combat via mouse and keyboard on a flat 2D surface, not with your hands, feet, arms, firearms, grenades and depth perception... Some games like the first CALL OF DUTY title go out of their way to communicate this very important distinction to you with its death quotes system, which communicates a famous anti war saying every time you die on the digital battlefield, and you do die a lot in the game so the words always have time to sink in...

The chest high wall games of wack a mole and close range engagements you typically find yourself in are inherently ridiculous, but something that is true about these portrayals is the deep psychological stuff that occurs in the back of your mind through play.

Fight or flight. Those instinctual, primal/animal like areas of your mind that govern responses to threats and general dangers that were extremely useful during our species evolutionary development as hunter gatherers, if a game is designed well enough it can take advantage of those responses and insert them into game-play loops which encourage positive reinforcement when taking down digital combatants... These are the things games tap into and the things military companies etc also tap into as part of training or recruitment programs especially in modern digital age armies where focus groups have to find new ways of getting young people interested in soldiering without conscription and a national crisis to absorb individuals into service positions. Anyone has the capacity to be violent and become a killer you need only the right training and psychological conditioning and in the army that is one part of basic. Popular video games and films provide you with that psychological training in a very subdued, consumer friendly fashion and that is through desensitisation. “Image training”

It is turned into a power fantasy, for military recruiters it is also an effective strategy for recruitment purposes.

“War is delightful to those who have not experienced it” Erasmus.

Violence in real life is brutal, random and horrifying even in a domestic sense to any sane or normal person with the capacity for human empathy (Though sometimes there are forms of desensitisation that override this), not even most soldiers who undergo psychological conditioning to be able to kill are immune to this trauma. Violence is not fair, violence is not graceful and more often than not it is also used irresponsibly in any situation where in it is absolutely necessary to be used, even then those situations are themselves questionable. Especially in present day conflicts waged overseas out of sight and mind of the general public for wealth, oil and resources.

I have experienced forms of domestic violence throughout my childhood such as being beaten by my parents and having animals ordered to attack me, I understand how awful it can be to live in absolute fear and experience excruciating pain and misery as a result of this so making a post like this I hope makes you think about this a bit more from that personal lens too.

Games and movies on their own dont cause violence that much is certain from studies no matter how vivid their depictions get, but they do desensitise you to its realities in strange and weird ways both mechanically, visually and also sometimes in the narrative. (Until we can someday reach the point where in we can perfectly simulate reality and violence there is no way in hell military companies are going to rely on it exclusively to train soldiers). But they can rely on the positive mental associations they bring to warfare.

HOW MASS EFFECT 2 PORTRAYS VIOLENCE.

MASS EFFECT is by no means a game that is used as a vessel to drive up real world military recruitment, there is no indication of official army endorsement since it is just a trilogy of science fiction video games after all. But it does include violence that tries its very best to make you the player think its wicked cool in addition to finding it fun if the game-play loop is effective enough. Which in ME2 it is especially effective and the marketing wanted to push that.

So how does MASS EFFECT 2 and to an extent MASS EFFECT 3 make its violence so fun and “Cool”... Ill break this down into a variety of factors starting with your enemies.

DEHUMANISATION OF COMBATANTS AND KNOWING YOUR ENEMY.

MASS EFFECT 2 takes players to the Terminus systems and other parts of the galaxy that do not fall under official council law, so naturally this means there is an seemingly over abundance of private military and mercenary organisations. But ME2 is not interested in what these things represent completely, more so it is interested in using their presence as a convenient means to provide the player with thousands of disposable henchman to shoot, stab, pull and blow up in a variety of fun and exciting ways!... (Those gamified ways) All the while giving you the excuse to not feel bad while doing so no matter how cruel you are in the application of your response to incoming fire.

In fact throughout the whole ME2 experience you probably kill more mercenaries comprised of Turians, Humans, Asari, Krogans, Vorcha and salarians, more so then you do the Reapers or Collectors who are supposed to be the primary antagonists of the series... Which it seems is pretty antithetical to the overall themes of uniting the galaxy to fight a common threat which threatens all life, perhaps you have already done the job for em in this regard. What you are seeing here is a form of precision engineered dehumanisation of combatants for purposes of providing a player with something to shoot and kill without much thought and sympathy... and the military also employs this tactic in real life to dehumanise other humans for soldiers to shoot and actually kill.

Make your enemies faceless, inhuman or “irredeemable” cannon fodder and the feelings you get for uncritically slaughtering them all are palpable, especially with such entertaining gameplay systems that make the whole endeavour that much more exciting. The same was true for Cerberus in ME3 effectively turning the whole organisation into faceless storm-troopers with filtered voices and intimidating armour again another form of enemy dehumanisation in addition they are all conveniently indoctrinated so thats another justification hooray!. More bad guys to shoot right?

You dont have to feel bad if there is nothing to feel bad about right? You are Commander Shepard! Or a soldier in the military you are right in all actions and decisions you make by virtue of the fact you fight for a cause like stopping the Reapers.

VIOLENCE AS AN ONLY MEANS TO A DESIRED END.

Despite MASS EFFECT’S status as an RPG experience, the games rarely if ever provide you with substantial opportunities to employ diplomatic solutions to various problems where in it would seem feasible that it can be at least attempted.

Most of the time you will be exhausting dialogue options on a screen and shooting faceless thugs behind chest high cover throughout the entire experience.

In the narratives themselves this refusal to resolve conflicts peacefully are actively supported by characters or hand waved as being frivolous by the plot and sometimes even Shepard himself. Kill or be killed rains supreme in again, But in real life that mindset is far from being realistic or preferable.

THE BADASS CHARACTER CLICHE.

Something that will severely age the MASS EFFECT 2 experience is its over reliance on making every single character a BADASS stereotype. Even beloved Mordin Solus falls victim to this strange fixation with violent attributes and histories being considered wicked cool bro! In combat Mordin will utter lines that hint to the fact that he very much enjoys the killing he is participating in.

“Killed that one!”

“Thought I was harmless did you?”

“Oooh headshot!”

“Here... Enjoy” (Plays during times he sets people on fire with his tech attacks)

He also lists at one disturbing point in the story, all the ways in which he has killed people. Which includes using lethal drugs and... farming equipment, thats funny right? Actually MASS EFFECT 2 seems to include a lot of moments like that in where people list off hilarious methods they have used to kill people.

Every character in one way or another has the capacity to kill and does kill, they kill quite a lot of people actually and in some cases this is celebrated with gleeful enthusiasm by the plot.

Even Shepard can participate in a little bit of casual BADASSERY no matter if you are renegade or paragon. Be that shooting through hostages, threatening Batarian thugs, shooting Konrad in the foot or generally acting like a ruthless prick all for the fun of it like when you trick a injured mercenary into thinking he is going to die from minor wounds. This is a stark contrast to ME1 which at least tried its best to codify violent or aggressive acts as morally questionable. You are the first Human spectre in that game after all a shining beacon to all humanity in the new frontiers of space, what you do in that story is emblematic of the attitudes the whole of humanity express going forward.

Jack is probably the most blatant example of this new approach to violence the series took for reasons I have already described in previous posts.

To be clear, I’m not saying MASS EFFECT 2'S inclusion of glorified fantasy violence is entirely a bad thing. I just think that if you are gonna include violence you best be a little more intelligent when it comes to its usage in mechanics and narrative. Because it can be a powerful thematic tool if used right, in some cases there are moments in ME2 wherein it does get used extremely well but those moments are also still few and far between.

We can do so much better.

[vgalmanac]

New at the Video Game Almanac

New from Jake 'The Voice' Parr - https://vgalmanac.com/mini-reviews/scrap-mini-review/

Scrap | Mini Review

What is it? Scrap is a 2D platformer by Woodland Games. In the future, important and dangerous jobs are solved by sending conscripted convicts deep into space. The title was originally a platformer for iOS and Android devices; it was…Read more

Read more...

[gaminghardware0]

Conscript is a WW1 survival horror “inspired by old-school Resident Evil and Silent Hill”

Conscript, an upcoming 2D survival horror game set in the 1916 trenches of World of War I by indie dev Catchweight Studio, has been in the works for a few years. Now, it's come to Kickstarter - and there's a free playable demo live on Steam.

Centred on a lone French soldier's fight to survive amidst the terror and conflict of the Battle of Verdun, it's described as a "classic pixel-art" game "inspired by old-school Resident Evil and Silent Hill". The chance to try out Conscript recently arrived as part of the big batch of Steam Summer Game Festival demos, giving players a first go at the horror game's "classic and methodical survival horror gameplay". Conscript's Steam page explains the game brings "intricate level design that promotes item management and route planning", "complex environmental puzzles", and "an intense, harrowing atmosphere boosted by a unique pixel art aesthetic". Gulp.

As announced in a post on the survival game's Steam page, Conscript has now hit the "20% funded" point on its Kickstarter page, with the purpose of the fundraising campaign being to allow the solo dev to "finish the game within the next year, without delays". There are 21 days left to go in the campaign, as of this story.

View the full site

RELATED LINKS: Best indie games on PC, Upcoming PC games from https://www.pcgamesn.com/conscript/steam-demo

[back-and-totheleft]

The hidden river, the longest waterfall

The guns are silent and cold, but the memory of their report still echoes across the land. Vietnam lingers, especially for the eager volunteers and luckless conscripts who crossed the Pacific to fight it. They are in their maturity now. They sit in the Congress, they stand along the assembly line, they sell pencils in the street. Some have tried to bury their past and forget the war. Many more have searched for a way to remember. They have a new mission now, one that began when the fighting stopped. This is the mission to make sense of the senseless, to find some provision in a storehouse laid empty by waste.

When the veteran is an artist - a writer, a sculptor, a cinematographer - his war almost invariably becomes his subject. ''The soldier who has seen blood spilt'' is a marked man, said the historian Dixon Wecter in 1944. ''It remains a dye in the fabric, a warp in the wood.'' Oliver Stone, film writer and director, is one of these men. On Sept. 15, 1967, he reported for duty in Vietnam, an infantryman, or ''grunt'' as they were called, a member of the 2d platoon of Bravo Company, 3d battalion, 25th infantry. He served in two other units before his tour was done and was twice wounded and decorated. In 1976, he wrote a screenplay about his comrades and the war they fought. Now, 10 years later, he has turned his script into a movie, ''Platoon,'' a graphic and often brutal film that is likely to unsettle even those who lived through the war's restless nights and incendiary days.

Mr. Stone says his aim was to ''make a document of a time and place,'' to re-create the reality of Vietnam so that those who stayed home or came of age after it ended would now know ''what it was like to be there.'' An artist, of course, has no obligation to state his purpose or explain his work. The substance of what he creates is its own message. His style is his metaphor for meaning. But Vietnam was more than a shooting war across the sea. It was as well a political and cultural struggle at home. The fighting along this ''second front,'' as it might be called, is now sporadic, but the skirmish lines are still hot, and anyone who takes a place there - novelist, playwright, film maker - should be prepared to defend himself.

''Platoon,'' at the Astor Plaza and New York Twin, has a simple and familiar story line. The protagonist, Chris Taylor, is a 21-year-old child of privilege who volunteered for the draft and Vietnam because he was convinced that young men who had grown up with less than him could teach him something about life. The war was to be his metamorphosis, his passage to manhood.

Taylor joins his unit in the jungle and a short time later is slightly wounded when his platoon, out at night to ambush the enemy, is surprised by its prey. In the weeks that follow, it becomes clear that the platoon is divided into two cliques formed around two sergeants who are rivals - Barnes and Elias - the former a figure of evil, the latter of good. Taylor falls in with Elias. At one point, after taking some casualties on a patrol, the platoon enters a village and begins to seek its revenge. Taylor, stunned and outraged by the death of his comrades, begins to take part in the brutality, then becomes horrified by it.

At the end of the movie, and of Taylor's tour, the platoon fights an apocalyptic battle with a large enemy force. Taylor is again wounded, but survives this bloody holocaust. As he is airlifted from the scene, his voice, speaking from the present, says, ''Those of us who did make it have an obligation to build again, to teach others what we know and to try with what's left of our lives to find a goodness and a meaning to this life.''

As a story, a narrative, ''Platoon'' borrows from the long tradition of war literature. Here is the classic warrior myth, the innocent who goes off to battle and comes back with what he believes is the wisdom of the ages. Here is war corrupting those who take part in it. Here is the survivor as hero. And, finally, here is the awful result of technology turned to destruction. The same story has been told in different eras by Stephen Crane and Erich Maria Remarque and Norman Mailer.

As a film, however, ''Platoon'' is an attempt to break new ground. Like other war movies, it has its share of cliches. (In one scene, a dying soldier drops to his knees and raises his hands to heaven. ''Poetic license,'' says Mr. Stone.) But it is a rare film in that it tries to re-create the grim chaos of combat. And it is likely the first film about Vietnam to give a sense of the persistent fear, discomfort and hard labor of fighting there. It is possible to argue with the way Mr. Stone drew his characters, the way he choreographed his battles and his various explicit and implicit messages, but few veterans will find any fraud in his milieu and many will remember the way combat left them feeling numbed and stupefied.

Mr. Stone, of course, did not aim his movie at his own kind, his comrades. He is sure its appeal will be broad, and his opinion might be well founded. The currency of war is violence and death, issues, wrote the self-described psychohistorian Robert Jay Lifton, that are ''all too real'' for everyone. Confounded by these issues, those who have not witnessed death ask questions of those who have. Rare is the combat veteran who has not been pushed to answer: ''Did you kill anyone?'' and ''What was it like?'' Some of the questioners were no doubt preoccupied with death. But most were simply looking for help. As Dr. Lifton wrote, they were involved in the common ''struggle to come to terms with the realization that one's own life could and would be at some moment snuffed out.''

To convey ''what it was like,'' said Mr. Stone, ''We took a lot of pains with details.'' The film, with a modest budget of $6.5 million, was shot in the Philippines between March and May, monsoon and summer. The Philippine Government supplied the military hardware and equipment and a former Marine Corps captain, Dale Dye, the film's technical adviser, provided much of the verisimilitude. He ''trained'' the ensemble of young actors, putting them through a 14-day boot camp to prepare them for their roles. ''Actors have a great imagination,'' said Mr. Stone. ''They were able to take those two weeks and turn them into months.'' Makeup artists gave Mr. Stone the details of gore for his wounded and the gray pallor of death for his corpses. All that was left was to haul in ''tons of dirt'' to keep everyone filthy and covered with mud. When everything was set, the cameras began to roll, and 54 days later Oliver Stone began to film a script he said no one wanted to buy a decade ago.

This is the second major movie Mr. Stone, 40 years old, wrote and directed. The first was ''Salvador.'' He also wrote the screenplays for ''Midnight Express'' and ''Scarface.'' His material has been topical, his style graphic. Someone, he says, proudly, once described him as a cinematic provocateur.

''Platoon,'' in many ways, is a chapter in his autobiography. The character of Chris Taylor has the psyche of Oliver Stone, and when the director is asked a question, he will sometimes refer the interviewer to his screenplay for the answer. Why, Mr. Stone, did you volunteer for the draft?

''CHRIS VOICE OVER: I guess I have always been sheltered and special. I just want to be anonymous. Live up to what grandpa did in the First War and Dad in the Second. I know this is going to be the war of my generation.''

Mr. Stone was born in France and raised in New York City. In 1965, he dropped out of Yale during his freshman year and, filled with the words of Joseph Conrad, set out for the Orient and adventure. He paid his way to Saigon and took a job in the city's Chinese district teaching school at the Free Pacific Institute. ''I was 18,'' he said. ''My father treated me like a child and I wanted to prove I was a man.''

Six months later he took a job in the engine room of a merchant ship run, he said, ''by characters right out of the 19th century - the fat captain, the soldier who worked for the C.I.A., the strong bull of an engineer.'' He switched ships, sailed through a hurricane to home and in 1966 took up temporary residence in Guadalajara, Mexico, where he began a 1,400-page autobiographical novel called ''Child's Night Dream.'' A few months later, he returned to Yale, but not to class. He kept writing his novel and flunking his courses. In 1967, he tried to get his work published and was rejected.

''I was upset,'' he said, ''heartbroken. I wanted to go back to Southeast Asia. But I wanted to get to another level. I hadn't hit the bottom - you know, in the screenplay on Page 15.''

''CHRIS VOICE OVER: I've found it finally, way down here in the mud - maybe from down here I can start up again and be something I can be proud of, without having to fake it, maybe. . . I can see something I don't yet see, learn something I don't yet know.''

So, like his French grandfather in World War I and his American father in World War II, he went off to fight. And now, 18 years later, he has made a movie that tries to convey the passion of that search and the cost of the adventure. And yet, like many other efforts since the war, it does little to solve Vietnam's sobering conundrum or to provide the kind of meaning that Chris Taylor, the protagonist, or Oliver Stone, the film maker, is searching for.

Part of the problem might be Mr. Stone's attempt to ''document'' the experience. War, real war, is an obscenity. It is foul. It is repulsive. It is loathsome. War has no form and war has no style. It is the absence of art, not the substance of it. A film maker can suggest or evoke this ugliness and chaos, but he cannot capture the effect of a year of unrelenting terror and tedium on 113 minutes of film.

For all its graphic realism, Mr. Stone's film is still an adventure story, his protagonist still a kind of existential hero. ''I wanted to show the boy changing from an innocent kid into somebody who comes to include both good and evil in him,'' he said. ''This is a memoir of youth.''

Although the film is rooted in his experience - that is, it portrays events that either he or his unit took part in and characters he knew as comrades - ''Platoon'' might be taken by many as typical of what every soldier experienced in Vietnam. And if that happens, it will resurrect old and troubling notions about how American men behaved on a battlefield so far from home.

The most brutal sequence in the movie, the one that most prompted those who walked out of the previews to leave, takes place in a village. Angry and out of control, some members of the platoon begin to murder and rape civilians.

''I wasn't trying to call up My Lai,'' Mr. Stone said. ''This is not an academic film. It is based on my experience. We did shoot livestock. We burned hooches. One of my comrades did kill a woman. I did save two girls from being raped and killed. It was madness.''

It also was not typical. Yes, some men, perhaps many men, are just as brutalized by war as the innocents who wander into their sights. ''From the Homeric account of the sacking of Troy to the conquest of Dien Bien Phu, Western literature is filled with descriptions of soldiers as berserkers and mad destroyers,'' wrote J. Glen Gray, the philosopher and World War II veteran. However, he adds, ''destruction is ultimately an individual matter, a function of the person and not the group.'' And this particular truth about war underscores what seems to be missing from Mr. Stone's film, perhaps what he never came to know - the passion of comradeship.

There is little kinship for the men of ''Platoon.'' They may serve together, but there is no sense of self-sacrifice among them, no loyalty and no love. It is thus not surprising that many of Mr. Stone's characters come across as coldblooded killers. ''Comradeship among killers is terribly difficult,'' wrote Mr. Gray. And it is on this point, found so often in the art and memoirs of war, that a great many men will break with Mr. Stone and find his film lacking.

And yet, I am glad he prevailed and brought his story to the screen. It is a welcome counterpoint to the comic and grotesque characterizations offered by the authors of ''Rambo'' and other cardboard heroes. And Mr. Stone's reality is much closer to the moral truth of Vietnam than the chest-thumping of modern revisionists. What is more, it is time for the veterans of Oliver Stone's war, my war, to pass through what T. S. Eliot called the ''unknown remembered gate. . . the source of the hidden river. . . the voice of the longest waterfall,'' in short, the past. We may, at last, be ready to find our peace.

-Michael Norman, “Platoon Grapples With Vietnam,” The New York Times, Dec 21 1986 [x]

[catchweightstudio]

Welcome to the new Conscript blog! This is where I’ll mainly be posting more personal and behind the scenes devlogs about the game. 

In case you haven’t heard, Conscript is a 2D survival horror game set during WW1 that I have been developing by myself for 3 years now. Conscript is very much inspired by classics of the genre such as Resident Evil and Silent Hill - but with a pixel art style, top down camera and unique historical setting. 

You can wishlist Conscript on Steam here: https://store.steampowered.com/app/1286990/CONSCRIPT/?beta=1

Visit the website: https://www.conscriptgame.com/

Or follow on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ConscriptGame

[phoenixtakaramono]

SUMMARY: Let it not be said that Shen Yuan didn’t know how to be an accomplished—arguably better—writer than Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! A middle-aged author in his hubris, he’d unknowingly triggered his fate and had his consciousness whisked away into an unfathomable mystical world that he would later learn to be based on Proud Immortal Demon Way and his very own work-in-progress. When given the opportunity to customize his character’s stats and to design his one remaining Customizable Skill Slot, as a veteran reader of transmigration stories and their tropes, Shen Yuan demanded, “Grant me the protagonist’s halo of course!”The SYSTEM was silent all but for a minute. 

【Understood. Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" activated. Esteemed Host, you share the Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" with one other.】

“Who?”

【This world’s Luo Binghe. From the original novel series.】

“...Hold on, I need some time to process this.”

(Little did Shen Yuan know that this world’s Luo Binghe is the same sadistic “Bing gē” from the released Extra short story. It was also too bad that Shen Yuan, in his mortal form, resembled Shen Qingqiu by a good thirty-to-forty percent.)

There was an important takeaway to be had from tonight’s interaction: Shen Yuan had asserted his place as the lord of this residence and as Luo Binghe’s future ally.

Several thoughts had, however, been plaguing him ever since Shen Yuan gifted Luo Binghe the handscrolls, leaving like the composed gentleman he was while the half-demon pondered over the newfound revelations for the night. Those thoughts filled Shen Yuan’s brain with a renewed vigor that his exhausted body did not feel, roiling through him as he changed into his night clothes. Even now, lying down with his hands folded over his stomach, they consumed his mind as he stared up at the azure, gauzy canopy that looked eerily similar to the one in the guest bedchamber that Luo Binghe now slept in.

Wisps of hazy white rose from the lotus-shaped censer he’d brought to his bed. The coals within were still fresh in the copper, keeping him warm in the night, with the fragrance of sandalwood circulating within the room.

His unyielding companion, the blue text box, hovered above. Shen Yuan kept his gaze averted from it; he had read and reread the Chinese characters countless times that if he closed his eyes, he could still see the most recent notification engraved in his mind’s eye.

【Prediction! Future Event <<A NIGHT OF PASSION>> has been changed into <<LOADING CHEKHOV'S GUN>>. You have reached the conditions to clear the scenario. Countdown commencing. Reward: B-Points +50.】

The planes of his face were bathed in a soft blue glow as he ruminated. Shen Yuan couldn’t find it within him to feel any guilt or to throw blame at anyone other than himself. He’d unlocked the <<TRUE END>> main scenario and, judging by how the <<SYSTEM>> was not giving him a choice, he had to build that rapport between themselves and see that friendship through.

These are the seeds you’ve sown, he reminded himself. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He could only dig his hands into the soil and watch the seeds slowly bear fruit.

Bing gē—or, rather, Luo Binghe—was not a 2D character on paper; he was now a real person who breathed and talked and had a will of his own. Even so, Shen Yuan didn’t know the extent of the ramifications if an extraordinary “prodigy” gained self-awareness that he was the male protagonist of a fictional erotica series.

It’d be interesting. If someone found out one day that they were a precious existence in a world which catered to them because of “narrative convenience,” they’d naturally become audacious. All the attractive people belonged to them, hearts were won over for no real reason, and enemies would be seen as less of a threat and more as an annoyance in the eyes of a protagonist with infinite power levels. Shen Yuan could envision it; Luo Binghe would probably behave more recklessly, bolstered by the certainty that he was protected by plot armor. He’d be a spoilt menace in a male power fantasy world—riding the power trip until the novelty wore off inevitably.

The corners of Shen Yuan’s mouth curved. He didn’t know how likeminded Luo Binghe was, but if he thought like he did, he’d exploit his advantages. A protagonist’s existence was akin to a cockroach, dragged from door’s death each time without fail.

This was not merely a case of schadenfreude—another difficult foreign term he’d learned during his pursuit as a novelist—where he reveled in another person’s misfortunes. It was a well-established trope in all forms of literature that when a person was casually dropped into a life-or-death situation, they would resurface as calamities. Since Luo Binghe was an important main character, he would naturally benefit.

...Sorry, youngster. Shen Yuan raised a white flag in commiseration for him in his heart. I didn’t mean to conscript you, but you must continue to work hard. Nationalistic pride exists among many Chinese writers.

Even pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had not been exempt from that.

In most narratives, a protagonist’s role was to rise above the rest and “smash the system.” They were akin to power kegs just waiting to be ignited.

Shen Yuan squinted up at the UI, his eyes beginning to water from its bright glow. He blinked rapidly, but the strain in his eyes refused to ease. This better not be the sort of tale where he and Luo Binghe had to compete to establish who was the one true protagonist, having to assert narrative dominance. Shen Yuan had no intention of pulling aggro to himself.

Raising a forearm up to shadow his vision, he groaned. He declared to no one, “Airplane brother, you’ve done your first son a great disservice.”

(He couldn’t help thinking the author had done a disservice to the original Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan among many others.)

The events that had played out tonight strengthened Shen Yuan’s conviction. He could now see how people easily fell for Luo Binghe’s act; the charisma of a stallion protagonist was potent. Even so, he had capitalized on his goodwill—and Luo Binghe’s strange fixation—hoping continuous acts of kindness being demonstrated toward him would soften him toward Shen Yuan and prove his intentions were sincere. His goal to leave a favorable impression was already well underway, with the endgame of establishing how it would be in Luo Binghe’s best interests to remember Shen Yuan’s acts of compassion and to return them tenfold in the future.

Should Shen Yuan prove himself to be of use, surely even a cutthroat person like Bing gē would not discard a loyal comrade—no, a valuable asset—during his rise to power?

Under no circumstances must Luo Binghe see the strange celestial fortuneteller as a threat or as a jealous rat. In the stories where the main character was an antihero, the few ways to survive their malice was by entering their harem, becoming the sole lover, being exiled—like Luo Binghe’s rival, the “second male lead” Gongyi Xiao—or becoming an indispensable friend or ally. Even though Shen Yuan was protected by plot armor, he should not assume its protection was absolute. His own transmigration here was proof that life was full of unknown variables.

But with Luo Binghe’s appearance here, his days of treating the other protagonist’s existence like colorless air were over.

To avoid future headaches, the only method Shen Yuan could foresee showing his fellow protagonist that his services were indispensable was by lending him his intelligence—and his predictions of the future. As the ancient proverb went, a friend who brings coal in the snow is most precious. If he availed to continue fostering goodwill and his undying support, those efforts would be rewarded handsomely. As a protagonist of the xianxia genre, Luo Binge followed a code of honor—even more so as a cultivator taught in the martial and mystical arts.

He recalled the last question Luo Binghe had asked of him before Shen Yuan left, regarding the compatibility of his fated person.

What he’d told Luo Binghe during the palm-reading was admittedly due to Shen Yuan’s own internal bias. It’d made Shen Yuan want to laugh at his own past naivety. He had to reevaluate everything he’d erroneously taken to be true and canon.

As a novelist, Peerless Cucumber wasn’t as generous as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky who’d spoiled his stallion protagonist with far-too-easy conquests as a result of pandering to his audience with fanservice. While Shen Yuan’s unique stamp was focusing less on romance and more on worldbuilding, he developed his romances gradually; like reality, his characters had to learn to work with each other’s strengths and flaws, overcome challenges, mutually pine for each other, and to be able to see a future together.

Only then did the payoff seem all the more impactful in his storylines.

A conflicted expression descended upon Shen Yuan’s face.

While there was entertainment to be had following the adventures of a “blackened” antihero crushing his opponents under his foot, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but count his blessings again that he wasn’t a young woman who had been reincarnated in the body of the villainess or a side character. That archetype always seemed to hope to enjoy her new lavish life in the sidelines watching the romance unfold between the male and female leads, but was swept into the mechanisms of palace intrigue—secret schemes and political power struggles—when the male lead inevitably turned his attention towards her.

Shen Yuan also took solace in his good fortune of not having been transmigrated into the body of an antagonist or a cannon fodder—which meant it wasn’t necessary for him to embrace the plot device of hugging the protagonist’s golden thighs and painstakingly preserving the pretense of being another person.

There were two less flags to be concerned over.

His purpose here was to surpass his rival in the danmei genre. That meant there must be two male leads. But Luo Binghe didn’t come from his own intellectual properties; his creation had been birthed from Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s imagination.

In this case, since it was a crossover, didn’t that mean Shen Yuan had essentially adopted Luo Binghe as his male lead? So as his responsibility, wouldn’t that mean he’d have to find the xiǎo láng gǒu—little wolfdog—a love interest? Give him an OTP? Help him tie the knot?

...Would it truly be okay if this tired uncle wrote a predestined romance for once? As much as Shen Yuan favored defying expectations, there was a formulaic structure that made their literature different from those in the Western market whose shocking narratives could not only arouse pity in their audience, but also a sense of awe, excitement, fear, and suffering.

Chinese protagonists were not always someone of high society; they often hailed from humble origins as a device for the writer to underscore the merits of working hard and to criticize the system—a fictional one though, to avoid absolute censorship by the Chinese government. Their heroes began as nothing more than a windblown leaf in the social structure and years of ethical traditions set in place. They started on the bottom rungs of society to draw people’s attention to their lives, to the injustice and unfairness, which made their struggles and triumphs all the more impactful to the reader.

The fates of the leading characters were tied to the juxtaposition of the harmonious ideal of society and the reality of a flawed system. Chinese tales were inherently romantic oftentimes, with tragic conflicts written to emphasize the beauty of a bond and rousing sympathy and pity for their plight. The archetype of a tragic hero was meant to be presented so profoundly that great reverence would well up spontaneously in one’s heart.

In his opinion, Luo Binghe had suffered plenty in his role as the avenging, wronged hero.

Under normal circumstances, as Peerless Cucumber, Shen Yuan was the sort of novelist known for deconstructing unoriginal, formulaic conventions. He’d satirized enough classic and tired tropes in whichever genre he was writing for, it almost became expected of him to subvert expectations in all of his publications. It was just his contrarian nature to write something out of spite. It would therefore not be considered strange for him to challenge the established romantic convention of soulmates by emphasizing different degrees of compatibility, by making his leading characters come together as platonic comrades or as destined adversaries instead of the cliché as predestined lovers.

But this Luo Binghe is now a real person, Shen Yuan had to remind himself yet again, and is no longer an imaginary concept on paper.  

Peh, I never knew you were such a romantic, Protagonist A. To think I have to break the discipline I’ve kept for these past few decades of my life…. Who knew a little wolfdog like you would still yearn for a tacky “match made in heaven” even though you’ve been “dual cultivating” with so many beauties….

For the first time in a long while, guilt weighed heavily on Shen Yuan’s mind. He swallowed hard. While he understood the implicit reality of his situation, he still felt like he was, in some way, disappointing his audience by not living up to his reputation. The shame he felt was bizarre.

He cast his plea into the void, my cherished readers, please understand. Forgive this writer if I don’t subvert your expectations in this aspect just this once.

The harem was the closest Luo Binghe had to a family. After the parental kindness of the washerwoman was torn away from him early in his life, after having endured the unhealthy environment that followed, the only love and tenderness he received in his life came in the arms of beautiful women. Tokens of affection were given in the form of intimate acts. It was no wonder Bing gē ’s character had ended up twisted. With his inferiority complex, he collected beauties with a greed not unlike a hedonistic minister who expected tributes and bribes.

The shortcomings of a younger, less experienced Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky made Shen Yuan’s heart ache for all of the original cast of characters. Airplane brother couldn’t have known his own writing would give birth to fully-actualized, breathing persons. As a webnovel writer, there was pressure to meet the self-imposed deadlines set on the online platform of choice to earn virtual coins per chapter, oftentimes leading one to forsake their own creative integrity.

The appeal of an underdog overcoming the odds had been a timeless theme for many reasons. The young, pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky must have felt obligated to make his protagonist suffer through every cliché in the book for angst points just so that when the love interests took care of him, the juxtaposition seemed “fluffier” and served their function as “healing element” in the story. But the setup was written clumsily, formulaically, like he’d written the angst first and rushed the payoffs.

There were so many women in the harem whose narrative potential stayed underdeveloped. Like cardboard cutouts, most didn’t have much of a personality other than looking beautiful. The heroines were trophies meant to stroke the male protagonist’s ego—who made him feel masculine, manly, and powerful—and to enable him to act in an unrestrained capacity. They were the author’s story device to show his cruel and brutal antihero still had a heart. In the presence of Luo Binghe, each one was gentle, kind, respectful, and submissive. To the other harem members, the once innocent maidens had to learn how to be shameless, who only knew to fight for a man’s favor.

But on a fundamental level, it was because his lovers were blinded by Luo Binghe’s bright, limitless future that nobody truly understood him beyond being a “main capture target.” They saw his worth as a strong, undefeatable husband material. And, in return, beneath the author’s veneer of romance, they were essentially relegated into the role not unlike that of “human cauldrons,” living furnaces that were drained of their vital energies to boost the protagonist’s longevity or cultivation powers through dual cultivation.

When Shen Yuan had read the original series, he came to recognize that the novelist must have wanted to create a dark, tragic antihero who obliterated obstacles to show how far he had come. Writing was supposed to be therapeutic, and Airplane brother must have wanted his story to stand out. The original Luo Binghe was a person motivated by his own grudges, by envy, and by pride—a hungry, ravenous young man fueled by the rage he’d been carrying for far too long. With his “origin story,” as somebody who had undergone the traumas that he had, after all the injustices he had suffered, after all the people and the society he’d been let down by, it was only natural that he carried a lot of emotional baggage.

What this Luo Binghe needed was somebody who was a foil to his temperament, patient, charismatic, and well-educated. Since he would be uniting the Three Realms, they also needed to be proactive keeping him in check from becoming a self-indulgent, fatuous ruler. A sensible head was needed on their shoulders to guide their merciless husband in understanding right from wrong, from succumbing to madness, and from any sycophants looking to lead him astray. It was integral to help Protagonist A maintain a harmonious empire so that, together, they could lead a golden age of reform.

When Cao Zijian first saw the Luò River Goddess, Shen Yuan abruptly recalled, he wrote a verse about her unrivaled beauty and charm.

Whether or not it was Liu Mingyan, a man, or somebody else, it would be poetic if Luo Binghe found his own Luo Shen in the form of somebody who understood him, a person who was well-versed in the language of his cues and subtleties. If Bing gē was truly interested in a man, then Shen Yuan will make sure to find him someone compatible. To draw a protagonist’s eye and maintain it, the candidate must be witty and gutsy, empathetic to a degree and with appropriate ambitions. To stand out from the beauties in the harem, one must not be passive or pretentious.

Their existence would be like a fairytale dream come true. A breath of fresh air. Were Luo Binghe to have intentions on somebody whose standards were significantly much more difficult to meet, he might realize he’d actually have to put in the extra effort to increase his favorability rating with them.

It was a common saying that a man’s personality will undergo change once he falls in love, arousing his desire to protect and provide.

If it was a level of deep love that was truly matchless in this age, a romance that transcended heaven and earth, ordained by fate, even an old man like himself would shed tears of emotion and wish the young newlyweds happy nuptials and an everlasting love in every lifetime.

Shen Yuan wondered if there even existed such an extraordinary person in this setting.

A fated match was bound by string even though a thousand miles. If such a person did not hail from Airplane brother’s imagination, then they must originate from Shen Yuan’s.

And if such a “child” did hail from himself, then Luo Binghe had more to prove to him, demonstrating that an emotionally-stunted half-demon as himself was capable of being sensitive and having a healthy relationship—lest Shen Yuan be forced to skewer him with Yue Ying if this “black-bellied” junior turned out to be overbearing, pursuing and pressuring this novelist’s precious “child” despite being refused. There must exist a chemistry between them, or a mutual romantic interest.

Luo Binghe’s reputation was already in tatters in the Mortal Realm on the account of having a demonic heritage and having razed down the great righteous sects. The current settings of the world defined anyone of demon blood as abominations to be exorcised or slayed without impunity. Whatever goodwill he’d originally cultivated with his deceptive “nice guy” act had to be regained. The elites of the upper class, staunch proponents of maintaining the status quo, would curse anyone of lowly background to be despicable persons who sought connections far above their status. Winning the war against the son of heaven and finding a match of great affinity would be integral in swaying public opinion to his favor.

In public, the lovers must persevere to present a united front, ruthless and fearless against their opposition but dependable and benevolent towards their subjects. They must accumulate enough reverence. It was only over time that the Sacred Rulers would prove themselves worthy of being beloved, idolized by the common people and giving the traditionalists found in high society—who held standards above the ceiling—no choice but to accept their reign lest they risk annihilation from their new rulers.

Until such a person was found, he supposed he could step into the role as his counsel if Luo Binghe ever sought him out.

There’s no medicine for regret, he thought with resolve. Although the <<SYSTEM>> made unsubtle prompts for him to make peace with Luo Binghe, as a direct result of his own decision-making, it had set Shen Yuan down the path of cooperation. He would try his hand at the impossible task of becoming Bing gē’s friend.

It would be an uphill battle, but he must broaden his view early on and engrave these words into his head: the once two-dimensional novel characters were now three-dimensional, multifaceted people.

Their upbringings were nothing alike, but destiny had come as a spring rain and brought them under the same roof.

Luo Binghe came from a destitute background. He’d witnessed firsthand, for himself, the injustices in life being born in abject poverty and with no background. After his stepmother, no one watered the mind of the tender sprout that was a young Luo Binghe, forcing the child to learn how to fend for himself. With his upbringing, it made sense why he had misanthropic tendencies. He’d seen for himself the wretchedness of people’s hearts, that those in high positions—whether it be the sons of noblemen, a Peak lord, or the emperor—had the power to push people around. Now in a similar position, he wouldn’t forget the harsh lessons. Grown up, he was a fearsome existence that very few—if any—could topple. He swore to make his enemies pay in blood.

On the other side of the spectrum, Shen Yuan was a son of entrepreneurs, born with a golden spoon in his mouth. He had the basic business acumen, brought up on Chinese pragmatism and the merit of achieving prosperity. Life might have led him down a different path as a profession, but he was educated in the principles of economics and had graduated from a reputable university focused on self-discipline and social commitment. A writer’s pastime was observing human behavior and implementing real world examples into the imaginary worlds they’ve constructed. From all the books he’d read and the programs he’d watched, he’d accumulated a wealth of random knowledge here and there, with a personal interest in reading up on tactical wartime strategies of the past.

As the older party, he could set the bare minimum standard Luo Binghe could emulate as the type of leader he could be, and to help him grow from his insecurities. The innovations and potential comforts of a technologically-advanced civilization were ingrained into a transmigrator’s brain. His handsome junior could be inspired by some of Shen Yuan’s “wisdom” and put them into practice for any of his policymaking.

Like the spring breeze that thawed the frozen soil, he would be someone who reached into the abyss and grabbed that bloodstained hand. Under his guise as a higher order of being, Shen Yuan would ensure the arrogant, domineering playboy matured into his full potential as a capable and virtuous ruler of the future.

In this world, his modern knowledge and his knowledge of both novel series were his cheats.

He’ll give him pointers so that he wouldn’t continue on the path of self-destruction. He’ll scathingly denounce and safeguard him from conniving shrews and from scheming aristocrats of unscrupulous greed, and from trope pitfalls and foolish mistakes, and to happily hand that duty off when Luo Binghe’s star-crossed lover—a nuanced person of honesty and integrity—inevitably turned up. And maybe, just maybe, even if Bing gē still curated a reputation as a fair but ruthless viper, the new reign might be salvageable and worthy of pride for generations to come.

Let us work together for the unification of the world, okay, Luo Binghe? I know you can do it. This old man will try to advise you during your prime.

It would be like tossing a peach and getting a plum back. It was a smart investment, in hopes of a great return.

“I’d redeemed you once,” Shen Yuan murmured, white lashes fanning against his cheeks. He closed his eyes in reminiscence of his own fanfiction, inhaling the light, woody scent of the censer nearby. “I can do it again.”

In the meantime, preparedness was quintessential. He reflected, I must collect more merits. I cannot be lazy and lag behind in accomplishments.

While Luo Binghe fought his battles, Shen Yuan should avail himself to avoid the fate of the Second Lead Syndrome. A bland comparison metric to be used against the protagonist, that archetype of the second male lead had everything stolen from him—from his time in the spotlight, even to his favorite woman—all to be handed over to the main character. It was a tragic fate. Shen Yuan did not wish to see his own successes being overshadowed by the radiant presence of a hardworking young man.

If his efforts bore fruit, he and Luo Binghe might even be comrades who respected each other, who trusted each other and would never dare to raise a blade at each other’s throat. They would unlock the epilogue together and find their star-crossed lovers. And once everything was set in stone, once the adults ground themselves to dust and were ready to step down to make way for the new generation, they could all live the rest of their lives in peaceful retirement.

And should fate permit them each to father their own child, should harmony blossom between the lovers they doted on and should such a good supportive relationship be maintained, as “uncles” they might even consider arranging an engagement for their descendants—a symbol of uniting the celestial, mortal, and demon bloodlines through marriage.

He could just weep from that beautiful imagery. May their lives be full of warmth and sweetness.

“...System?” he inquired drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning on his side, he stared at a faraway wall. The glazed white surface of the porcelain pillow felt cold against his cheek, its smoothness reminiscent of jade. “Can you hear me?”

Ping.

【This <<SYSTEM>> provides the Esteemed Host a 24-hour service.】

“I don’t remember Airplane brother going into detail about what the education system is like in this setting. Is it supposed to be historically accurate to the ancient feudal model or…?”

Ping.

As he listened to the long encyclopedic explanation, what he’d heard seemed to reconfirm his worst fears. Education was the privilege of the elites. With a cultivator’s narrow-minded focus on self-enlightenment, it made sense that the basic education curriculum of the twenty-first century could be seen as innovative in the pre-established setting of this strange world.

Wait a moment, wouldn’t this mean even a secondary school student would be seen as a prodigy in this world? ...Then what would a middle-aged uncle of university-level education be considered as?

...A wise sage?

Shen Yuan formed a complicated expression. Immortal cultivators prioritized studying matters of the “spiritual heart” and Qi refinement, in the martial and mystical arts, breaking through the bottleneck of each cultivation stage until their dedication allowed them to reach the pinnacle that was the Ninth Stage.

In the early webnovels, Bing gē had stagnated as a late-stage Core Formation expert. The constant sabotage in his early life had ensured that his education in the esoteric art of cultivation remained incomplete, ensuring that Luo Binghe’s cultivation remained rough around the edges and unpolished, with the end result being the gaps in his knowledge that had to be overcompensated by creativity and sheer determination.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, in his laziness to research the many intricate nuances of the Cultivation World, had waved the illogicalness of the protagonist’s OPness away by attributing it to his ancient, heaven-fallen demonic heritage and to the deus ex machina that was his legendary sword. (Yet, even then, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky still occasionally confused the Foundation Establishment with the Nascent Soul stages.)

It wouldn’t be until the end of the series—after the outcry of the netizens—that the unsatisfied Luo Binghe made the breakthrough into the proper Nascent Soul stage with the help of his wives and their many gratuitous papapa scenes.

Then in the epilogue, the author had infuriatingly time-skipped all the way to the penultimate Ninth Stage, describing how Luo Binghe somehow became a legend among legends who had finally attained eternal youth and aged back into his late twenties in his new immortal body after having miraculously passed the Heavenly Tribulations—disasters from heaven which were akin to nuclear radiation for those of demon blood. After an unspecified many years of rule, he’d left his legacy behind—with the uncountable size of his harem and a boundless number of his descendants “mourning the loss of a great and oftentimes misunderstood man.”

Just remembering it made Shen Yuan’s blood pressure spike dangerously. Taking deep, calming breaths, he rolled onto his back again as he forced himself to attain catharsis from listening to the mind-numbing exposition the <<SYSTEM>> was extolling to him like a history program. His fingers clenched the bed sheet.

Eventually he found himself feeling adrift, the words beginning to lose their coherency to him as he phased in and out of consciousness, his mind becoming wrapped in a haze of scented smoke. Tense muscles soon relaxed.

The countdown had reached 00:00:00 when sleep finally claimed him.

XXXXXXXXXX

He’d read and heard several accounts of people who have claimed to have had lucid dreams before, but this was the first time Shen Yuan was aware that he was having an “out-of-body” experience.

It’d felt like his “soul” was being lifted into the air. His head was spinning, a ringing in his ears. When he finally “opened his eyes,” he was floating upright in a world devoid of color. Iridescent grids pulsed in and out of existence in the fog below, running like gossamer lines of circuits which resembled the pre-rendered level of a video game.

In the desolate void of white mist, a single incomplete, dark brushstroke circled overhead in an endless rotation of a wheel. He stared up at it. “...Is...it buffering?” Clouds escaped his mouth as he spoke, tasting pure, winter frost with each breath.

Color was beginning to spread, like somebody had dipped a daub of green watercolor beneath his feet.

Ping.

【Answer! Welcome, lăoshī! This <<System>> begs the Esteemed Host’s patience. We have encountered a bug and are thusly limiting the open world configurations. Please be patient while we load the rest of the map assets.】

Alarm bells were blaring inside his head, and he swore he could hear the clanging manifested—but muffled. He began to think that there must have been something suppressive in the air, something that muted all normal sounds. Covering his ears to deafen the noise still, he demanded, “What bug?”

In his muffled hearing, the answering ping pierced through the quiet .

The <<SYSTEM>> spoke clearly and unobstructedly.【This is the world within a dream realm. To adhere to lăoshī’s traditional xianxia expectations, please be aware that celestials are considered the antithesis to every demon in the world. We have thusly isolated your divine presence in a barrier separate from the dream realm influence of Protagonist <<LUO BINGHE>> and Supporting Character <<MENG MO>>, sealing away the demonic Qi bordering lăoshī’s dream realm. You are expected to clear the important plot scenario before you are allowed to return to your waking state.】

That was as official of a “reality check” as he could perform.

Shen Yuan had to sit down.

From faraway, his countenance was of a man with legs dangling over the leafy green rim of a giant water lily. The paleness to his complexion lent him a deceptive image of fragility. His long white hair was down, and the loose white sleeves of his night garment billowed even though there was no wind. A garden pavilion was forming behind him, similar in design to the thirteen bordering the lotus pond he’d rescued Luo Binghe from.

Time stretched on. And on. In the accustomization period, it was as if the fog had stolen his senses, leaving him in a vacuum—with him staring at emptiness. Finally, after an interminable wait, the buffering wheel vanished.

Things were slowly beginning to take shape before his very eyes. He felt like he was watching a time lapse video of a painting master having finally taken their brush to paper.

Dark brushstrokes were painting the rest of the world unknown. He saw something resembling the jagged peaks of a mountainous landscape. The strong black lines, ink wash, and the dotted clusters eventually faded into softer, rubbed brushwork suggesting rolling hills and a river. Thin, delicate flicks took the shape of bamboo leaves. The once-empty world before him bled into a scenic vista not unlike that of the Wuyi Mountains he’d toured once in the Fujian province. Mist passed through the scenery like silkscreen, secreting whatever was beneath from his eyes.

The frigid air bit at his exposed neck. He glanced down and balked immediately at the eyeful of his chest. With a curse, he gripped the thin fabric and wrapped them tightly around himself. He breathed in deeply to reorient himself.

This setting was indeed a place that hid tigers and dragons, each one better than the other. Shen Yuan’s mind was still a half-awake jumbled mess as he tried to process that, whether unconsciously or on purpose, an attempt had been made to drag him into a dream world.

Him, Protagonist B—an uninvolved third-party. An innocent outsider. A stranger.

Ah, but dreams are a narrative convenience, is it not?

Memory was stirred of his halcyon days of youth. His time spent as an undergraduate was a fargone blip in his life, a bubble of time separate from everything that had happened before and after. Long ago, a younger Shen Yuan had the privilege of enrolling in throwaway lectures—one of them memorably being a class where he remembered writing detailed study guides about the phenomenology of dreams and imagination. (He faintly recalled his thought process, at the time, must have been: if he’d needed to fulfill his GE credits anyway, he might as well sign up for a few interesting courses pertaining to his hobbies.)

While he never once experienced a lucid dream, he was surprised by the amount of free thinking he seemed to be able to exercise at this present moment. While the lucid-dreamer could deliberately affect the nature of their hallucinatory experience, Shen Yuan dimly recalled the supposed restrictions on the hyperkinetic dream state—the loss of the capability to doubt, for one. Going with the nonsensical flow and the loss of impulse control, as another.

This was entirely uncharted territory.

He wanted to be angry but reaching for it, he found it slipping through the cracks of his fingers like water. The longer he stared down at the clouds of mist, the more that a sense of serenity seeped into him.

The chaos in his mind calming into a tranquil lake, Shen Yuan gazed up at the pair of moons sharing the same sky. A thin sliver of space existed between the two as though an invisible force was prying the two gravitational forces apart, preventing their collision.

In his daze, he could faintly hear the familiar traditional notes of the two-stringed fiddle of the erhu and the gentle plucking of the seven-stringed guqin ; it was as if there were an invisible troupe of musicians playing the essence of Chinese aestheticism and philosophy in the background for him, setting the mood.

In the context of the imaginary, he wasn’t necessarily at a disadvantage.

It was fortunate that the <<SYSTEM>> had preserved control of his consciousness for him, instead of him having to wrest it back.

Allowing his mind to wander, he studied the composition of the painterly world. While Shen Yuan wasn’t an artist himself, he could discern that the expressionistic brushwork and precise details were what art collectors might consider authentic. Enraptured by the flow of the brushwork, he asked, “System, please correct me if I’m wrong, but is the aesthetic of the Heavenly Realm meant to resemble traditional landscape paintings?”

Ping.

【Answer! Much of the open world has been configured to match the existing prerequisites of being ethereal and otherworldly. Would the Esteemed Host like to expend 1,000 B-Points to change the map skin?】

“No!” A dulled pain dug into his palms. The miser in him thought viciously, 1,000 B-Points! Just to change a skin? What a waste!

This abstract setting of celestials and the Heavenly Realm—and whatever else that followed—must have somehow originated from his own imagination. They couldn't have come from his competitor's unpublished drafts; none of this was Airplane brother's style.

Taking another deep breath, he spoke, “System, you said the scenario was called ‘Loading Chekhov’s Gun.’”

Setting aside his omniscient reader viewpoint and writer’s perspective, he supposed it made sense. Being a fortuneteller, his class skill was to divine the future. He didn’t have the whole picture quite just yet, but the <<SYSTEM>> seemed to have faith that he could begin to collect the threads.

“I’m guessing the criteria is discovering most—if not all—the big foreshadowing elements of my unwritten danmei for me to clear it.” Recalling the contents of both webnovels, he spoke carefully, “I was dragged here without my volition by demonic interference. So if I wish to escape, I will need to destroy the core of the illusion—but in a pacifist way?”

Ping.

【Both are correct. Completing the mission objective with an S-Rank will reward the Esteemed Host with 500 B-Points. Lăoshī, jiāyóu!】

There was no mercy in its vocabulary.

“...Yes. Jiāyóu." He repeated the encouragement wryly, dropping his gaze back at his surroundings. He could only thank lǎo tiān yé—god in heaven—that he’d maxed out his charisma.

Shen Yuan definitely needed all the good luck he could get.

Through the mist, the long, snaking river was a black serpent threading through the ashy grayscale of the valleys as far as the eye could see. And then he remembered. Seeing it, he felt a pang of emotion so strong, it exerted a physical pressure on his chest.

“What about Luo Binghe?” His knuckles were as white as his robe. “What has that little demon been up to now, System?”

...Ping!

【Begging the Esteemed Host’s pardon! This <<SYSTEM>> is keyed to Protagonist <<SHEN YUAN>>. If the Esteemed Host is willing to cross the boundary, there is an option to uncover the story with Protagonist <<LUO BINGHE>>. Providing him assistance will ensure Protagonist A’s Satisfaction points.】

The time has finally come.  

The water lily trembled under him as he straightened to his feet. From his high altitude, Shen Yuan can see where the mist hugged along the so-called boundary line that separated his dreamworld from Luo Binghe’s.

Since Luo Binghe evidently desired his company, Shen Yuan might as well take initiative and go to him on his own terms. If the mountain cannot come to him, then he will go to the mountain. Overall unity was important to maintain harmony between the protagonists.  

“I will store the past and compile a beautiful dream for you,” he promised. He was going to craft a story that was romantic and tangled, replete with heroes, villains, and a well-deserved conquest.

With one foot off the plant, the world spun and he suddenly found himself enclosed in thick walls. He glanced around. Everything had a rough, unfinished painterly quality resembling dried ink wash on paper. Bathed in the shadows, he marched forward in the fog, looking for the nearest exit. His head passed by a circular window, the ricepaper resembling the glow of the moon.

His gaze traveled past the miniature bonsai tree underneath the window’s wooden lattice. Frown lines formed on his face at how thin and small it was.

The visual of it abruptly reminded him of how Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had described Bing gē to be as small and skinny as a carrot at fourteen years of age. In the earlier chapters that took place in his dreamscape, his diantian was a gnarled, black tree overlooking a meadow, with the scantest of flower buds blooming in a barren wasteland—very much indicative of the protagonist’s mindset at the time.

Shen Yuan’s hand drifted absently to his abdomen as he gracefully passed by the pedestal. The source of one’s ability to cultivate was located in the lower stomach, a natural center of the body’s spiritual energy. He could only wonder how his own diantian would appear. Would it reflect his inexperience as a sapling—frail and waning? Or would it have the appearance and bearing of an old, ancient tree—befitting an immortal celestial being?

Funny how it means “elixir field,” he mused to himself, but us authors somehow always depict it as a tree… .

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

As he peered up at the origin of the noise, words suddenly materialized around him. They’d peeled off the building like black strips of paper, suspended midair around him as though they were a sea of constellations surrounding the moon. The small, densely-packed lines of Chinese characters blurred in his vision but he instantly understood.

They were a manifestation of all the predictions he was capable of.

A gust of wind blew. As bountiful as the leaves of a forest canopy, the bamboo scrolls strung overhead swayed with the wind, knocking into each other with crisp clunks.  

The long, narrow strips reminded him of the scrolls he had shelved in the Archives room. His servants had shown him how they’d cut and roasted the white bamboo stalks until they became dark, later binding the dried strips with durable thread. All were prepared for their master, to transcribe his manuscripts if not his oracles.

He heard the sloshing of water. Ripples formed beneath his stride as a pale hand reached up. The wide sleeve slipped down his forearm as his fingertips grazed the bottom of a random brown scroll that somehow called to him.

An opulent array of gold flooded his vision.  

The imperial palace was a splendor of the Mortal Realm that could not be described, a piece of history that inspired great awe and reverence. In the starry skies, Shen Yuan saw a resplendent celestial being, wearing a monocle of a pearlescent sheen, descend from the full moon. Upon their feet touching the secular world, white faded to black. His hair was tied back and as black as sable, his original facial features—although pale—presented to the world as he approached the solitary figure seated at his rightful place atop the dragon throne.

Like the sun in the skies, Luo Binghe shined with a bright light in one’s eyes. With eyes filled with a thousand words, he was a young emperor in formal black, his austere and distinguished presence instilling a sense of respect into others. An armored cloak decorated his shoulders; the thick white fur sewn into the collar of the embroidered brocade appeared familiar to Shen Yuan for an inexplicable reason.

There was a strange intensity to his expression. With a half-formed smile of indulgence, the newly crowned sovereign was watching how the visiting fortuneteller gazed upon him with immense pride. He genuflected to Luo Binghe in a proper bow.

Time had not left any residue on their faces; they were arguably as handsome as they had been when they’d first met at the beginning. Both held the innate ability to hold one’s eyes on their presence.

Earnest congratulations swelled in the air, stirring the hearts of those in the coronation ceremony when the wise-looking, austere guest gifted the Heavenly Demon official amnesty from the Heavens.

Suddenly Shen Yuan found himself outside.

A fragrance of flowers filled the imperial gardens during the eighth lunar month, a fresh scent that was quiet and distant but able to inspire heartfelt emotions. The courtyard bloomed with lush red and purple chrysanthemums.

He saw himself stopping in place below an osmanthus tree, with the oil-paper umbrella he’d carried shading him. Dancers ahead were moving with dainty steps to a stunning choreography, performing the tale of yearly weather from spring to summer, fall and winter.

Behind his reading monocle, his celestial gaze did not carry evil intent; it was pure and admiring of the beauties capable of overthrowing cities and kingdoms. Respectfully keeping his distance, he maintained a thick atmosphere of an educated appearance, dignified and decently conducted. Next to him were the pots of white blossoms—the sight of them naturally not being a joyous thing for one to gaze at without being reminded of funerals.

From the crowd of spectators appreciating the flowers, the dance, and poems being composed, four sets of eyes flitted over to him—one scarlet and one an overcast sky, and two that were pitch-black.

A Demon Saint, dressed in her infamous gauzy red silks and tiny bells, as coquettish as a temptress. Her complexion was naturally fair, with a type of rare grandeur and dignity in her brows.

A human cultivator who wore a veil over the lower half of her face, hiding the dazzling beauty that was like lilies blooming out of fresh water; a calm and composed beauty that snatched people’s souls.

A young mistress of wealthy bearing, willful and adorable with her childlike-face, wearing her long hair up in a flying fairy style, decorated with pink pearls to match her long, extravagant palace dress. A whip had been strapped to her willow waist.

And another young lady, as fair as a magnolia—and whose lovely mature face had turned ghastly. Became ashen. “It can’t be....” As though she were seeing a ghost from her past, she took an involuntary, compulsive step to him. “Shen Jiu…?”

Various emotions flashed over their fair countenances. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. Confusion. Then a reignited deep hostility formed between their brows, their unsettled eyes as dead as stagnant water—unable to tear like a dry well but filled with bottomless loathing.

A flurry of fabrics blurred in his sight. An arc of red sprayed widely over the flowers of the courtyard, the droplets scattering like crimson petals against the walls. The umbrella clattered to the ground.

A headless body collapsed heavily to its knees. Fell sideways like a log.

A round object soon tumbled over the hot, sticky blood seeping into the cracks of the paved limestone. Red began to stain the long, black roots that were fading back into the color of moonlight.

Through the music and shrill cries, one deep shout shook the Heavens. A howl of rage, there existed the unexpected raw sound of anguish that could chill the blood. There had been too many complicated emotions condensed into that single vocalization, it made everyone who heard this sound feel a stone in their throat.

The swift winds of calamity approached.

A faltering scream, or something like a scream was heard with the sound of numerous lives being extinguished. It was a demented, gut-wrenching retribution that didn’t end, a subjugation forever to be carved into the annals of history.

Shen Yuan broke free from the premonition, gasping like a dying man. His hand scrambled to his neck. Fear tasted like iron in his mouth, the muscles at the base of his throat working convulsively.

Cold sweat beaded down his face as he staggered forward. He felt as though he’d resurfaced from the deep depths of the sea he’d been drowning from. The water sloshed beneath his movements, his inner robe loosening from his abrupt movements.

Ping!

【Prediction! A Death Flag has been discovered. +44 Points. Future Events unlocked. Objectives <<INVITATION TO THE CHRYSANTHEMUM BANQUET>> and <<DEFEATING THE MECHANISMS OF THE PALACE COURT!>> will be available.】

System, why are you giving me so many inauspicious fours! He wanted to tear his hair out! He screamed in his head, The future me was helping your husband for the sake of securing your peace and prosperity! How did you not realize cutting the neck of a celestial immortal from the exalted Heavens would be considered an evil action? Did you think your actions were just and thus exempted from karmic, divine retribution?

Have they lost their minds? How can anyone mistake him for Shen Qingqiu? He was not Shen Jiu!

What a messy affair!

What a disaster!

To say he felt vexed was an understatement. Just now, everything had happened too suddenly. The tangled, chaotic mess of information was too shocking, too absurd. Just what happened to his invincible golden halo? Did inhabiting the mortal coil temporarily dispel it? Was this the stupid【Hidden Penalty】applied to his character creation?

Don’t tell him it was because he was the sort of cutthroat writer who’d kill off his own protagonists for shock value!

He smiled with a trace of bitterness. It was precisely in line with what he’d write. This was just the sort of first-draft content a writer like him might throw in just to be evil but would later put on the chopping block upon revision, when he was no longer fueled by spite.

If he had his laptop, in true keyboard warrior fashion, he’d finger-smash his frustrations in an unintelligible burst of Chinese characters. He’d signed up for a heartwarming, “feel good” pseudo-historical fantasy redemption story with blood-pumping battles and sworn brotherhoods. He did not sign up for angst and heavy subject matters like genocide.

Regaining his equilibrium, he shuddered. Abruptly he recalled a novel passage describing how those who die from a beheading were never to reincarnate. His hand clenched into a fist, his fighting spirit ignited. Shen Yuan resolved himself to trample that death flag. As a transmigrator, he would improve their attitudes toward him and rewrite fate!

He will survive in this world without fail and use whatever means necessary!

However much he didn’t wish to dwell on the vision, he knew he’d seen that monocle somewhere before. The Store inventory?

His heart racing, he threw his memory a little further back until he saw it—vivid and picture-clear in his mind’s eye. It was as if a scene from the distant past had superposed with the present.

<<MONOCLE OF DIVINE CLARITY>>

Wondrous item, legendary

A rare artifact once belonging to Xīwángmǔ, the enchanted crystal lens is rimmed with silver and has a fine chain attached to a jade earclip. Magical properties include Resist Mental Compulsion, True Sight, and enhancement of the wearer’s divination. Effects shall remain active as long as the owner wears it.

Cost: 500,000 B-Points

He’d remembered thinking, Just whose imagination did this goddess’ treasure originate from? So expensive! Monocles were a fashion statement used to highlight certain shrewd men in Chinese novels, but the eyewear was ultimately a Western 18th-century invention overseas and not of ancient China. Such historical inaccuracy! He’d wished to file a complaint! Shen Yuan remembered the grievances he’d lamented to the <<SYSTEM>>, only to be coolly rebuffed with the encouragement to continue to work hard.

But despite its exorbitant price-tag, he’d now received visual confirmation that he would eventually acquire ownership—whether the relic would be purchased by his own merit or it would enter his hands as a byproduct of the halo’s extraordinary luck. Although there was a sense of accomplishment in knowing, it paled in comparison against his newfound conviction.

Only the shallow groove between his brows betrayed his profound distress. There was no point dwelling on an omen that hadn’t happened yet. His counterattack would have to wait.

With a hand still shielding his throat, his breathing slowly, eventually, returning to a semblance of normalcy, Shen Yuan warily glanced around the painterly surroundings.

Somehow he’d found his way to the border. No words could capture the feeling he felt standing in the midst of a bamboo grove painted into existence from ground charcoal and ink wash. A retinue of monumental statues flanked him, weathered with time—and unrecognizable with their faceless features.

Walking by, he craned his neck to stare momentarily up at the features of two of them. A man and a woman. The man was of taller stature, with the suggestion of a goatee. The woman wore a headdress; an ominous hairline crack bisected her torso. Their placement indicated they were husband and wife, the intricate details carved on the white jade making them appear regal and imposing.

A sense of dejavú filled his thoughts. He couldn’t tell who they were meant to represent, but they felt familiar. Like he should know who they all were, but recognition of gods and the divine slipped through his fingers.

The misty ground had given way back to a transient void of white. He could see clearly where his dream realm ended and Luo Binghe’s dream realm started. It was as though a curtain had been drawn, an aurora of northern lights protecting a blank white canvas from being blotted. Across the boundary, he could see something up ahead in the eternal darkness. In the desolation that engulfed the night, an ominous shroud of miasma roiled overhead.

Like a soldier preparing for the battlefield, he steeled his resolve. With one firm slap to his cheeks, he bridged the gap.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a fierce demonic Qi surged toward him like a violent gale of desert wind which threatened to strip the skin from his bones. His knees nearly buckled under him as irony, sorrow, and bitterness besieged him. He had to resist all compulsion to turn back as the darkness caged him at once. He floated aimlessly in the darkened landscape, inexplicable feelings of loneliness arising within.

Shen Yuan narrowed his eyes, calming his inner turmoil.

He had to tell himself dreams did not reflect reality; they were merely a projection of someone’s subconscious. Even so, it painted a bleak picture of his xiōng dì's mental state.

Descending from the night skies, Shen Yuan was an ethereal figure dressed in white, the thin garment fluttering behind him as he took the invisible steps down into the foreign dream realm. In the infinite cosmos, he saw nothing but stars. He cast a cursory look over the bioluminescent glow rippling under him with each tread, like an otherworldly procession, until his feet finally touched the earth.

The sound of wings flapping caught his attention. Shen Yuan twisted his head, seeing a majestic fènghuáng burst free from his own heavenly realm. The immortal phoenix soared high overhead, the five sacred colors—red, blue, yellow, white, and black—of its serrated tail feathers trailing behind it. A beautiful cry escaped its throat like a song.

A mighty roar shattered the night. The air pressure shifted. As though answering the phoenix’s call, a fierce and powerful lóng ascended from the dark depths of the realm, brackish water trembling off its black scales as it shot up to give chase after the fènghuáng ’s vibrant plumage.

He watched their aerial dance in flight. Like yin and yang coming together, seeing their bodies twist and weave with one another in a harmonious sight made an intensity arise from the bottom of his heart.

The relief he felt was all-consuming. Every Chineseman knew of the dragon-and-phoenix metaphor of olden times. And if the mythical phoenix dared to take flight in this dream realm, in a demon’s home turf, surely it was an auspicious sign that Bing gē was not too far gone in darkness and corruption.

Feeling a renewed lightness on his feet, Shen Yuan went to follow.

The moment that the dragon surfaced, he had registered a faraway presence. It was a feeling of awareness, a slight prickling sensation of the scalp, making him feel self-conscious. He was hyper-aware that he was not alone. Even if Luo Binghe had been preoccupied, there was no way Protagonist A would not have sensed Protagonist B’s presence—and vice versa.

If Shen Yuan’s world had been representative of the heavenly air and water, much like the man himself Luo Binghe’s spirit root was aligned with the earth. His hand drifted back to his throat. The air was as arid as a desert. If memory served Shen Yuan correctly, Luo Binghe also had an innate affinity with the fire attribute. It’d been discovered during his time in the Endless Abyss arc once the demon seal had been broken, indicative of his high sensibility to the fire type of Qi.

Hearing noises behind him, he glanced over his shoulder. Leaves had sprung from the blackened branches, rustling in the wind. Moonlight dripped through the gaps in the canopy, reflecting mottled shadows. He had been following along a ravine which’d shimmered gold, curious where the running water led to. Presumably it would take him to wherever Luo Binghe—and Meng Mo?—wanted him to see.

Tucking the long strands of his hair behind an ear, he halted midstride when he heard, “...a...re...f...ul….”

He’d heard that quiet murmur before—that time at the pond, didn’t he? A woman’s cadence. Like the babbling of a brook, as faint as the wind, with accents of a beauty hitherto unknown. He glanced at the waters, keeping his expression impassive.

Ping.

【Do exercise caution, Esteemed Host! One should not turn their back on an opponent.】

Shen Yuan was silent. He cast his gaze sidelong to the trees for a fleeting moment. As though addressing someone in the prevailing shadows, he purposely stated aloud, “I don’t make mistakes in recognizing talent. I have no intention of making Luo Binghe my opponent.”  

Without another word, he resumed his stroll. His sight was fixed on the miasma ahead.

On the account of the premonition, it was at no fault of Luo Binghe’s that Shen Yuan would lose his head to the man’s wives. If anything, it’d sounded as though Protagonist A would seek to avenge him—even if the way he reacted was extreme and heartless.

Don’t you know, he wanted to tell his junior, if you do too many bad things, you will get retribution?

Truly, the future Shen Yuan must have maxed out his affection meter. Luo Binghe must have deeply treasured their friendship—or his counsel—to the point where he was capable of callously dismissing his former lovey-dovey attachments to help the dead deliver justice. However much pity Shen Yuan felt for the young women for how easily their husband detestably threw them aside, it was still an immensely heartfelt gesture he showed for the deceased. Even a rock would feel moved.

It made him remember the con-crit he’d left on the online forum, where he detailed how cool he felt the portrayal of a hateful and sinister Bing gē was—a refreshingly blackened hero who repaid debts of kindness and grudges. As expected of the “black-bellied” male lead, once the favorability meter was full, his inner protectiveness to the ones he held in high esteem would appear.

...Shen Yuan, you are putting the cart before the horse, he scolded himself. Stop thinking about something useless. Don’t meddle in his personal affairs too much.

Petals scattered, rolling along with no control whatsoever over their destiny, adrift and aimless. Strands of moonlit hair billowed with the breeze, leading his attention from his feet to across the distance. He focused on the sparse meadow that had wrapped itself in the embrace of the autumn equinox.

In the inky darkness, he saw a field of red spider lilies blooming in the hellish wasteland along a golden stream, leading to the gnarled tree—dark and twisted and silhouetted with demonic Qi.  

So this was Luo Binghe’s diantian.... It was as depressing of a sight as Shen Yuan had envisioned. The scent of death lingered in the air, an earthy perfume of graveyard soil and decay intermingling into the overwhelmingly floral fragrance, suffusing into the senses.

Under the swathe of demonic miasma drifting down from the sky like ash, the drooping red petals seemed ready to fall, swaying dreamily, but holding fast to their slim, strong stalks. The movement added something alive to the manjusaka’s fragility, to their ethereal quality, almost human in the way a flower could demonstrate both frailty and endurance at the same time.

He felt a faint sense of dread as he began to wander deeper into the crimson field, feeling a pressure over his head that was overbearing and suffocating. The flowers parted before him, the petals brushing his sleeves and hair like covetous fingers. He’d half-expected to see the heavenly flowers descending from the realm of the Gods, according to Buddhist scriptures. There was an old Chinese legend of two fairies who had been punished by the gods to be seperated for all eternity. As gods’ design, the petals could only blossom when the leaves were all withered away.

A flower of separation, and with its poisonous bulb, the red spider lily held a dark connotation that appealed to writers. They were well-known metaphors in eastern literature.

Memories poured in like the tide. Grown in Diyu—the realm of the dead or “hell” where souls were sent to repent and be purified—they were symbolic of guiding the dead into their next reincarnation. If anyone had asked him about what it meant in the language of flowers, Shen Yuan would say he associated the red spider lily with feelings of abandonment, longing, lost memories, and final parting. He’d referenced the symbolism before in a past work, underscoring its morbid resemblance to splashes of blood.

Shen Yuan stared with narrowed eyes. There was a certainty in him that he could not describe. But with how the dream realm had been described in the webnovels, there was absolutely no way Luo Binghe, or the elder Meng Mo, had a hand in this.

For any onlookers looking in from the outskirts, this scene must have presented a baffling sight. He remembered the pride displayed by both versions of the elder dream demon when it came to showing off their control over illusions to a young and impressionable disciple of mixed-blood. Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if Meng Mo was presently frothing at the mouth, seeing a celestial being mess with his precious host’s control.

There was an indescribable eeriness permeating everywhere ever since he’d walked into the flower field.

System, he accused, this must be your doing. Just what are you trying to prove to this old man?  

There was no story without coincidences. When countless coincidences crashed altogether, the truth came to light.

Ping.

【Answering the Esteemed Host, the thousand year white resurrection lily is a gateway to the world of the deceased. It receives the memories of a departing soul before one crosses the Nai Ha bridge to pass into their next life, and can therefore be harvested to bring back the souls of the dead. Should Protagonist <<SHEN YUAN>> accept the quest, there is a resurrection subplot to bring back wronged supporting characters from the Earth Realm.】

Hearing the explanation, Shen Yuan’s mind leapt to the original Shen Qingqiu.

Even Shen Yuan, who’d originally called for the “scumbag’s” castration like many other fans, after having read the rebooted series, felt that the original Shen Qingqiu was deserving of sympathy points. At the mercy of his own duplicitous personality, the emotionally stunted character had adhered to the mensao archetype through and through—flopping between the two states of “hot and cold.” It had been revealed that many of the crimes Shen Qingqiu had been accused of had been the result of various egregious misunderstandings and miscommunications.

An ache wormed its way into his heart. There had been so many casualties, so many people who had their lives cut short. The Qing Jing Peak Lord, Shen Qingqiu; the Sect Master of the Qiong Ding Peak, Yue Qingyuan; the Bai Zhan Peak Lord and Liu Mingyan’s elder brother, Liu Qingge; Luo Binghe’s blood-related parents Su Xiyan and Tianlang jun….

They were good people. They weren’t his creations, but their roles as the small “mobs”—side characters—led to their potential being shorn woefully short.

It was perhaps pretentious and presumptuous of him to decide those to be allowed to come back from the dead—defying the natural order of things—but for someone to be essentially granted a second chance at life, to right regrets and live their rebirth to the fullest, who would refuse? Celestial beings were meant to have magnanimous hearts, moving the sky and earth for once-in-a-lifetime noble souls.

So wasn’t it just and righteous if such extreme action was taken?

Ping.

【Optional objective <<JOURNEY TO THE NETHERWORLD>> is available. Does the Esteemed Host wish to accept? Y/N?】

He glanced at the UI. Within that brief moment, Shen Yuan had already made many deliberations and judgements. Just as he was about to cement his decision, he heard the faintest trickle of music—and with it, murmurs.

“...P...le...ase….”  

His body instinctively tensed. A thick stench of blood pervaded the air, suffocating the floral fragrance with a metallic odor of iron.

...Why do I hear <<BOSS>> music?

Shen Yuan swatted the interface away from him, hissing beneath his breath, “Some other time.”

Whispers, male and female, crept through the silence. They drifted into his hearing, mournful and piteous, like wounded animals in close pursuit of their prey. Growing louder and louder.

“May...the Heavens...have mercy....”

“Save us.”

“Anyone….”

Under the night sky, he appeared calm, but his mind was already as turbulent as the storming seas.

At the sound of rustling, an archaic flight instinct had him spinning on his feet. A crack had formed in his expression. Skeletal arms were outstretched toward him from the crimson field.

Infinitely long, they dripped with blood, the droplets scattering onto the lilies like rain.

His hand instinctively reached for his sword as he watched the illusion crawl toward his ankles and the hem of his robe. His brows tightly-knitted, there was a chill to his face that was very different than during the daytime—as if he were a different person.

Some battles had to be fought another day. To avoid damaging his or Luo Binghe’s psyche, he’d have to beat a tactical retreat.

Just as he was about to soar away like a sparrow, he heard a distinct, metallic shnnk. He jerked in surprise when an arm abruptly materialized around his waist, embracing Shen Yuan from behind like an iron snare.

A black demonic blade swung in a wide arc.

The skeletal arms were obliterated in a torrent of midnight wildfire, limbs bursting open in wet splatters of blood.

The heat pressed against his back was as solid and grounding as a tree trunk, the strong and rapid heartbeat incomparably clear in his ears as the roaring flames extinguished themselves. All petals had been scattered from the mighty gust, strands of black and white hair flowing together in the wind.

In the blanket of darkness came the hysterical thought of a wild Bing gē having appeared. The culprit has, at last, deigned to show his guilty face.

“Shizun….”

The mere sound of him strummed the bowstring in his own heart with a loud tremor.

In a tone as soft as peach blossoms, silky and gentle, Luo Binghe whispered to Shen Yuan, “I’ve finally found you.”

The hoarseness of the man’s voice was albeit strange. Thrown off-kilter, Shen Yuan thought that there might have been something wrong, but he didn’t trust himself to say anything yet without it being misconstrued.

Hot puffs of air brushed against his cheek. That, with the scent of rice water and rose petals and something else masculine and unfamiliar, was distracting. Luo Binghe was quietly repeating the phrase, "I found you."

Mustering his courage, Shen Yuan peered over his shoulder. Both brows soared to his hairline when he saw a hallucination of a hundred flowers blooming at once.

A circle of red peeked out from the charcoal of Luo Binghe’s eyes. His attractive features were akin to the warmth of the early spring sunshine on flower petals that, for a moment, Shen Yuan could not differentiate between north and south.

Shen Yuan blinked once—twice, to clear the hallucination. It was only when he realized what he was seeing that Shen Yuan felt dumbstruck. He could feel his own facial muscles beginning to contort.

Unbelievable. The corners of his mouth launched upwards out of his control, but the ludicrous smile was suppressed by him before it could take flight completely. How utterly audacious.

Luo Binghe’s long, dark hair was let loose like a waterfall. And he was shamelessly wearing nothing but a thick, white pelt over his bare torso.

Having been the one to strike down the mythical beast, Shen Yuan instantly recognized the fur draped over broad shoulders. It was the divine báihǔ pelt the servants had laid out over the bed to help their guest conserve heat for the winter. Draped over bare skin, it’d lent the younger man a distinctly wild impression.

Luo Binghe’s breathing was a little unstable. Wrapping his other arm around Shen Yuan, he closed his eyes. Nosing the soft white hair, he remarked, "Shizun has a pleasant scent...."

Shen Yuan’s expression remained a frozen lake. What was with this ambience?

Faced with an unprecedented scenario, Shen Yuan didn’t know how to make it less awkward and help them both save face. The extent of his adult experience with hugging strangers had been starting conversations or meetings with a handshake, and ending it with a brisk hug whenever the whim hit. Even his own father, himself and his two brothers had communicated mostly with manly pats to the shoulder or the back. Perhaps such discomfort could be attributed to a cultural custom which persisted long after the death of Chairman Mao back in 1976. Initiating physical contact still remained somewhat of a learning curve among friends and family members, with some notable exceptions like the comforting touches given to a cute child or the hugs given by an overbearing grandparent.

Despite his current appearance, Shen Yuan was still a man; even though it was not the soft figure of a woman being pressed up against him, it was embarrassing being held by another man so fiercely.

Even knowing everything there was to know about Luo Binghe, he was essentially a stranger to Shen Yuan. The whole experience was surreal, like being hugged by a movie star who could just as easily change his mind and decide to crush his windpipe.

Shen Yuan didn’t dare to look down to confirm the extent of Luo Binghe’s undressed state. What if he accidentally bore witness to a wardrobe mishap and caught a glimpse of that legendary, heavenly sky pillar—or see a blinding tower of light? He wouldn’t be able to recover from such humiliation! To avoid that blow to his ego, he would be better off pretending everything was normal. I am a morally upright citizen with the heart of an angel, he chanted to himself like a sutra. I must remain patient and benevolent with today’s hot-blooded youth.  

With the two of them locked in a stalemate, Shen Yuan slowly felt his sanity returning to him. Standing as still as a statue, he ruminated on the best method to address this situation with an appropriateness that wouldn’t trigger a landmine.

He patted Luo Binghe’s forearm in a consoling manner, but it was also an unsubtle cue for him to release him.

The arms only tightened in persistence.

Shen Yuan frowned at his “stickiness.” He felt as though they were unintentionally stealing this particular romantic encounter from a youth’s passionate spring dreams. Since this was ancient China, it was truly lucky that he wasn’t being hugged by a young woman, or else he’d be worried about impacting her reputation—even if nothing had happened.

Traces of resignation formed between unpigmented brows. “...Xiōng dì, I am appreciative to you for having found your way to me.” Now that the arrow had been drawn, it had to be released. As exasperated as he felt, he asked with no small amount of concern, “Are you suffering from any mental backlash? I am aware of what happens when one retaliates at an illusion.”

A shaky exhalation of breath was heard. Instead of answering his question, Luo Binghe replied with much sorrow, “This lord deserves to die. However much this lord hastened to reunite with you the moment I saw your resplendent presence descending from the sky, it is unfortunate we met just as harm was about to befall upon Shizun.”

His voice had been mellow, with a hint of the liveliness to it that only young people had. It made it all the more easy for people to develop goodwill towards a valiant, dazzlingly handsome lord.

...I know of your tricks, little demon. Are you testing the sincerity of my well intentions? Furthermore, how do you manage to sound like a pitiful puppy...while your body...looks so erotic...? Bing gē, you truly have a duplicitous, villainous heart.

Shen Yuan refused to fall into the scheme of this little wolfdog. To avoid a perilous situation, he must go on the counterattack.

Instead, he turned in his arms. Luo Binghe’s eyes snapped open when Shen Yuan framed his face in his gloveless palms.

Shen Yuan inspected his features closely, putting on a stern look. He wiped away the big drops of sweat that flowed down the Heavenly Demon’s forehead, chastising, “You move me to tears, Luo Binghe. Did I not warn you to work on your bad habit of bearing everything silently?” Every word and sentence was leaden with camaraderie. His fingers drifted down to clasp him by the elbows. “You’ve forgotten this one is clairvoyant. Instead of concealing your intentions from me, this master shall willingly lend you his ear if you come bearing any troubling thoughts or concerns.”

What was the use of having a glib tongue if it couldn’t be put to good use? Time to wield his +20 CHARISMA to its full devastating potential!

“Although we are strangers, I hope, with time, you can be the truest version of yourself with me. I will not think any less of you at a sign of weakness.” The nature of heroic warriors emphasised on cultivating relationships and respect. Shen Yuan knew to repay a kind act with gratitude. Concentrating on his channels, he sent a pulse of his spirit energy to his yin -depleted companion through their point of contact.

Luo Binghe’s eyelids fluttered half-mast as gentle and clean spiritual power circulated throughout his meridians. The sensation was reminiscent of a cold spring drizzle watering the arid soil, the strain in his body receding for the time being.

Under a more impertinent tone, Shen Yuan told him, “Even if you willfully choose to disregard my reading, I cannot help but be concerned seeing how gallantly and recklessly you continue down this path of self-destruction. Just look at the state of your own diantian. Even the peerless ‘Luo Demon’ of the battlefield who is said to be able ‘to withstand the skies and earth’ should not be uncompromising regarding one’s own health.”

Shen Yuan knew from personal experience. However much the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak.

A hand slowly left his waist, moving to close over the back of Shen Yuan’s palm. Carefully sizing him up, his scarlet gaze, as he looked at Shen Yuan, held a few degrees more affection.

Ping.

【Protagonist A Satisfaction points +25.】

Twenty-five points instead of five or ten? You must have felt so good, you’d reached the heavens. Shen Yuan granted a lukewarm smile towards the future tyrant, patting the white fur over his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes. Many thanks to Shizun.” His line of sight drifted downward, and suddenly his attention was the ravenous gaze of a tiger.

Heat rushed in Shen Yuan’s body like the torrential flood. You’re a married husband who’s bedded countless beauties throughout the years , he’d nearly rebuked. What was so interesting about seeing an old man’s chest anyway? He averted his face. Forcing a calm and unwavering tone, he invited, “Since we’re here, walk with me, Luo Binghe.”

Perhaps it was due to the strange air of two men bonding that grinded down Luo Binghe’s stubborn temperament, but his iron hold had loosened, giving Shen Yuan ample opportunity to break free. Righting the night garment back into its proper place, he turned his feet in the direction toward his own dream realm.

“Luo Binghe…. My son….”

Shen Yuan glanced over his shoulder, his stride slowing. Somehow,  even as a figment of his imagination, he instantly knew whom this voice was supposed to belong to—maternal and lonely and sorrowful, full of regrets.

“I beg of you…. Help him….”

“Shizun?”

He gazed at the field of spider lilies with a considering look. With each step they’d taken, the blood-red color had faded into white. “...You do not hear anything?” he asked slowly.

Luo Binghe granted him an unfathomable look, before shaking his head. The fur of the báihǔ rustled with the small movements.

“So it’s like that.... May the elder dream demon who has taken this younger demon under his wing forgive my divine interference.” Sensing he’d captured Luo Binghe’s rapt attention from that frivolous declaration, Shen Yuan scrutinized the person who had been walking shoulder to shoulder with him.

To anyone looking in, they perhaps presented an incompatible image. Visually, as protagonists, they were as different as day and night—indicative of the two different writing styles of the two novelists.

As the celestial representative, there was a kind of romantic, quiet and unrestrained air of a distinguished literary person. Even with such mature looks, like the dark side of the moon, they paled in comparison to the blinding brilliance that was Luo Binghe whose presence was as bright as the sun in the sky. He personified those who walked with a dragon’s gait and firm tiger’s steps, with a vigour and prestige that unknowingly overflowed out; and with a cultivator’s valor, such presentation could make his opponent easily frightened. Shen Yuan could still recall his rough touch and that vise-like strength. Although Luo Binghe appeared innocent, he was actually enigmatic and difficult-to-predict. It made Shen Yuan want to test him.

Affecting an air of indifference, Shen Yuan mentioned as casually as he could, “That aside, I have a question for you. I was hoping you could satisfy my curiosity.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze was a dozen stones piled on the side of his face. He bade, “May Shizun speak candidly.”

“You must have given thought to my predictions. Knowing what xiōng dì knows now, what else does Luo Binghe intend to ask this one?” Seeing Luo Binghe was about to respond, Shen Yuan shook his head. “Don’t give me the answer you think I will want to hear. Be frank. For you to chase me in my dreams, you must be burdened with a thirst for knowledge.”

“...This lord wishes to learn more,” Luo Binghe confessed, looking unapologetic. “The strong prey on the weak; that is how the world works. As one who can get a glimpse of fate, Shizun is an indispensable source of guidance. Before this lord arrived here, I had been in a daze and felt helpless. Then elder Shen Yuan helped clear the fog in my head. The future has never been clearer.”

Shen Yuan hid the cynical smile in his heart.

Now we get to the crux of the matter…. Very well; he will fulfill the desperate wish of the imaginary Su Xiyan. He would help her son.

First, he had to establish a common enemy or obstacle.

“You are fortunate. Although it’s unorthodox, seeing as we are in a dream realm, seeing once is preferable to hearing a hundred times. You can do with the knowledge of your future later however you want.” He glanced forward, seeing the boundary line just across the barren wasteland. “Should you see intervening forces or hindrances to your survival or success, even if both parties once harbored goodwill, what will Luo Binghe do?”

There were countless variables on the chessboard. How he chose to answer him would decide where Shen Yuan will point the spear to.

Sensing the weight of his tone, Luo Binghe mulled over his words for a moment. A dark storm swirled in his eyes. Gazing at him as though he intended to test him, he spoke with severity, unfalteringly, “If one were to offend me, this lord will definitely exterminate the entire family.”

Shen Yuan somehow managed a serene expression despite hearing such a bloodthirsty declaration. A ferocious answer that has exceeded expectations, of course. Bing gē, your inferiority complex is showing.  

He knew just the perfect scapegoats.

One was the son of heaven—the current emperor of the Mortal Realm himself. His fate was sealed the moment he’d declared the exceptional demon lord to be a threat and that the middle kingdom would not be content with nothing short of his destruction.

Second was the Old Palace Master—the sect leader of the still-surviving Huan Hua Palace. That pervert was the poisonous snake that was entrenched in the grass, waiting for an opportunity to strike and bite his son-in-law to death.

And lastly, the most crucial, would be the symbol of everything that had gone wrong in Luo Binghe’s life. He was the ideal sacrificial pawn, for that person was an existence Luo Binghe would definitely not be able to touch even if he harbored resentment.

Ping!

【Warning! Allowing Protagonist <<LUO BINGHE>> knowledge of the powers that be is prohibited. A penalty will be imposed on the Esteemed Host should you continue!】

System, Shen Yuan roared in his head, must you undermine everything I do? Even as his fingers curled into fists, he resolutely maintained his mild forbearance as they approached the boundary. He thought viciously, If you’re so worried, then why don’t you activate a filter to edit what I’m saying into something that suits this world?

Ping.

【The Esteemed Host voluntarily wishes for censorship?】

Not censorship! Just filter any forbidden words into something of similar equivalence. I give you permission! Just don’t meddle! This is a critical stage toward jumpstarting Bing gē’s character development!

Now that he thought about it, naturally the main reason why many of the modern characters never admitted to being a transmigrator was out of fear of being seen as crazy. Shen Yuan could count on one hand the number of stories where the protagonist admitted to actually being one.

Wasn’t he in an optimal position where he could be believed? The intimate act of exchanging secrets brought people even closer. Shen Yuan was not above using the same emotional tricks to lure Luo Binghe to his side.

A sudden warmth jostled him out of his thoughts. Just as he heard the notification that the filter had been activated, he noticed Luo Binghe had stepped closer to him. Body heat transferred to Shen Yuan from their proximity. He could smell the scent of fur.

His smile was ferocious, as if he were a vicious wolf. “The ways of the heavens are merciless.” A hand lifted to play with the loose white strands. Luo Binghe seemed to have found his albinism curious. “While this lord is appreciative to elder Shen Yuan, I am aware that immense hatred and bad blood has existed between the moral sects and demonkind for generations. Yet you’ve magnanimously harbored me at your residence and shared with me my bright future. Aren’t you worried your celestial brethren will accuse you of collusion with this lord for your own benefit?”

Brows that were as pale as the snow rose at the provocative words. Although I haven’t met such “celestial brethren,” to think you would see the bigger picture of classism and discrimination.... Sighing in his heart, Shen Yuan realized he must have misjudged him. He hadn’t thought a formidable, blackhearted stallion protagonist like himself could be broad-sighted. Luo Binghe, I never thought you’d grow up overnight.

“...I don’t think you’re rotten.”

“Hm?”

“On account of you being half-demon,” he clarified. “Judging a person by their birth and social status is proof that a person is narrow-minded. I have seen with my own eyes how hard you work and I sincerely admire your potential.”

As the old saying went, one should never look down on youngsters. If they worked hard, the future of young people was boundless, and they will inevitably turn the situation around.

On the surface level, Luo Binghe spoke with a refreshing candor and treated others warmly and sincerely. He was not unreasonable, and he was as filial as they come—showing favoritism and loyalty toward those he held in high esteem. It was only when he faced adversity or found himself on the battlefield that he would be merciless—so no matter how much goodwill others showed him, it was useless if he held secret grievances toward them in his heart.

“Moreover, you’ve surely heard for all your life that an alliance between a human and a demon would truly be a laughingstock of this world.” He held Luo Binghe’s riveted stare. “...But I’m looking at that impossible unity right now.”

A brittle expression melted into existence. “...And what of the celestial gods and fairies of the Heavenly Realm?”

“What of them?”

“Do they hold the same broadmindedness as Shizun?”

Shen Yuan eyed him. When he remained silent, Luo Binghe understood he had gotten his answer.

“...Shizun is a precious existence,” Luo Binghe remarked. “The world has its own rules. And everything within it follows them.”

While it was true that good wordbuilding was kept within its sandbox, Shen Yuan didn’t think upholding such a limitation applied to individuals equipped with the protagonist’s halo. Protagonists were meant to break convention.

Shen Yuan corrected, “Just because a celestial is an immortal body of divinity does not mean I am beholden to share the same outdated values.【My way of thinking is modern and doesn’t suit the current times.】Knowing what I know, naturally there would be some deviation.”

He paused, realizing what had emerged from his mouth.

What he’d meant to say was that he was a transmigrator and that was why his way of thinking deviated from canon NPCs! This was supposed to be the moment he revealed to him his shocking identity!

Shen Yuan tried again, “It would be the height of folly to dismiss your capabilities just because of your birthright.【You are meant to stand at the peak of the dynasty overlooking all living beings.】Regardless, I will support you whether you choose to be the Sacred Ruler or if you decide to live a simpler life.”

His expression immediately sunk. It happened again! He’d meant to say, because Luo Binghe was the stallion protagonist, his meteoric rise was inevitable.

Luo Binghe had been keenly watching the byplay of emotions on Shen Yuan’s face as he spoke. As he saw the neutrality melt into heated frustration, Luo Binghe naturally formed his own assumptions from it. Under a softened tone, he repeated, “A simpler life?”

A stone had lodged itself in his throat. Shen Yuan had wanted to express to the young man that he didn’t want to pressure him into taking on the burden and responsibilities of a duty he wasn’t ready for, but he hadn’t expected to be hit with a burst of memories.

It made him remember his own family life. Before this madness.

“Being alive is actually a wonderful thing.” Nostalgia swept across his features. “...You are a grown man, Luo Binghe. Just because you have the potential to be great doesn’t mean you should be forced into something if it isn’t what you want to do.”

Wracking his brain for how to address the concept of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky without having Shen Yuan’s original intention changed drastically, he confided, “I’m not like your creator. I don’t want to erase your agency; I wish to see if you can transcend your original settings.”

The mood changed in a flash. “My creator?” Luo Binghe’s tone was sharp. The white hair was released as he impulsively reached for Shen Yuan’s arms. “What does Shizun mean?”

He could see the vibrancy of the demon crest on Luo Binghe’s forehead, being this close to him. As though commenting on the weather, Shen Yuan remarked cavalierly, “Have you not found it strange that, despite not committing any wrongdoings, you’d perhaps suffered more misfortunes than anyone else—as though they’d been preordained? A storm tests the strength of a blade of grass. You were orphaned, twice, as a child. People picked on you when you were defenseless. A reputably famous immortal selected you as a disciple, but upon seeing your potential, swiftly went to undercut it. At just a young age, you’ve seen the duplicity of human hearts, fought countless tough opponents, and endured numerous betrayals and hardships.”

Luo Binghe’s expression had hardened.

“Your destiny has been【manipulated by a higher power】to hasten your growth.” Undergoing tribulations was not a foreign concept. In the Cultivation World, cultivators were expected to undergo tests from the Heavens to determine if they were worthy of ascension. “Most would be crushed under such trials, but your will to live is strong. Thus your rate of progress has been accelerated because of such painstaking efforts.”

You are indeed a far mightier man than I could ever be. With your head-start, even if I challenge you countless times, I will never be able to claim victory currently with how unfairly OP you are.

“You are claiming there has been a higher power who has caused this lord much grief and misery, all in accordance to a predestined plan he has prophesied for me?” Luo Binghe’s voice was deceptively gentle.

Shen Yuan hesitated.

“Shen Yuan.”

Seeing that all pretenses were already thrown to the wind, Shen Yuan had no inhibitions anymore. He could only apologize to Airplane brother in his heart, for turning his creation against him and making him an unfilial son.

Shen Yuan opened his mouth. “You aren’t【my creation.】It is frowned upon for【gods and immortals】to poach【extraordinary heroes】from their【patronage】without permission.”

Maintaining a genial facade, Luo Binghe expressed with a sincerity that rang a little false, “This lord simply wishes to know which deity to pay humble respects to for their gracious sponsorship.”

An enigmatic smile stole across Shen Yuan’s face. “One could say every living thing such as yourself and everything beautiful and evil in this world sprung from his imagination. His【name has been lost with time.】But I know him as elder Xiàng Tiān Dà Fēijī."

Those dark brows drew downward. “Xiàng Tiān Dà...Fēijī?”

Ah, of course you wouldn’t know what an airplane is. Shen Yuan ruminated for a moment before reaching up for Luo Binghe’s wrists. As though he were an older brother admonishing one’s insensible younger brother, he said graciously, “Fēijī gēis a controversial but well-respected figure within our circles. His writings are not without merit.”

His words were mostly self-serving, but had Airplane brother been in his shoes, Shen Yuan would have wanted him to elevate his standing in front of his “children.” Even if it was just by a little.

Under the same earnest tone, Shen Yuan insisted, “He might have lost his integrity in the past but he has always held well intentions and wants to see his【creations】flourish. You, especially, were his original written masterpiece.”

Luo Binghe’s gaze fell on the pale fingers encircled around his wrists. “And where does Shen Yuan fall into all this?”

In life, it was not possible to bloom bright flowers from lies. Try as he might to hide it, his smile became strained from the memories of his painful past—of how much time he’d wasted, how much rénmínbì he’d spent out of his own wallet. Shen Yuan confessed, “I was once an admirer of his before I grew disillusioned. Your life is full of tragic misunderstandings. That’s why I want to see if I can rewrite the travesty of the future you’ve been shoehorned into. Your journey has been of interest to me the moment he【birthed】you and this world.”

Luo Binghe’s hands refused to budge from him no matter how much force was exerted. Shen Yuan frowned.

“Is your remark real?” Seeing Shen Yuan’s confusion, he clarified, “That you would be willing to overstep boundaries and break from celestial tradition to offer your support to this lord?”

“I’m not being facetious.” Shen Yuan scrutinized his handsome features. “We know what you are meant to do. Fēijī gē had set you up for greatness. With your power, you will surely achieve justice and bring the evils of the Three Realms to judgement, and unify the realms as the Sacred Ruler. And once you’ve served your purpose, your story is at its end. I’ve seen your ending. Your great legacy will ultimately be remembered as nothing more than a tragic, bitter wastrel who, even with your accomplishments, had wasted away and perished under suspicious circumstances.”

Dark storm clouds gathered in Luo Binghe’s expression.

“But knowing all that, what does Luo Binghe want to do?” Shen Yuan spoke brusquely. “Don’t care what I think. You have free will, do you not? It’s one thing for me to advise you against the misfortunes you’ll encounter. But do you even want to be a Sacred Ruler? I would like to hear the input of his own creation.”

“...In the eyes of the virtuous, this lord will always be a wicked and unspeakable evil that must be slayed. In the eyes of aristocrats, I will never get ahead. To them, I will always be the son of a penniless washerwoman.” His voice had been calm and waveless, but there was a trace of heavy tension—and a fatalism that’d felt suffocating. With the air of a galvanized, hot-blooded warlord in battle, Luo Binghe declared, “This lord will not find peace until none would dare oppose me, and I attain everything that has been denied to me.”

How selfish, Shen Yuan couldn’t help but think. But he supposed it made sense. In the past, Luo Binghe had always been the one trampled underfoot, but now that the shoe was on the other foot, it was to be expected he’d want to take everything he thought to belong to him.

He asked Luo Binghe again, “Do you still want to honor Fēijī’s wishes for you and become his Sacred Ruler? Or do you want to travel a different path? The present is different from the past or future. I will respect whichever decision you make.”

Luo Binghe repeated the words “the present is different from the past or future” softly. Those charcoal eyes scrutinized him back.

Shen Yuan had a sudden realisation in his heart when Luo Binghe raised his palm reverently to the back of Shen Yuan’s hand. He kept his expression wooden when a beatific smile bloomed across Luo Binghe’s features, chasing away the prior shadows.

“This lord,” Luo Binghe announced with the finality of a man making a solemn vow, “will never accept Fēijī ’s patronage. Such a thoughtless, presumptuous, good-for-nothing creator is unfit to lick my boots.”

...I express my deepest apologies, Airplane brother. Please do not transmigrate into this world like your Self-Insert in the rebooted novels—or you will be made into mincemeat.

Ping.

【Protagonist A Satisfaction points +99.】

Shen Yuan nearly swallowed his tongue upon hearing it. It took everything in he not to reveal his astonishment. Although he had expected to have made a dent in Luo Binghe’s heart, it was staggering by how much impact his words had! In his incredulity, he’d almost missed what was declared next.

“Instead, this lord shall only truly accept Shen Yuan.” His dark lashes fluttered shut as he lifted their entwined fingers just below his jaw, his breath fanning across Shen Yuan’s knuckles. “My Shizun is honorable, honest, and foreseeing. None can compare. In return for guiding this lord with his oracles, I will ensure they come to pass, and swear to protect him from his back. You will achieve the results desired.”

Oh, my mother. A feeling arose in him that he had somehow enmeshed himself in a trap of his own devising.

“This lord understands. Your heart had suffered so long enduring the injustices this one had to suffer while I was weak and oppressed. Shen Yuan must have felt helpless being unable to directly interfere with matters of the secular world, retained at the residence of the Heavenly Realm and not being allowed to see me. It is because this lord has only now managed to find a way to Shizun that you have seized the opportunity.”

He’d just dealt him a fatal blow. You understand nothing , Shen Yuan wanted to bellow! If this were a tabletop game, then he had just rolled a Nat20 with his Charisma check. It was too good of a roll! Aren’t you just projecting your ideal Shizun onto me?

“Thanking Shizun for the lesson. Your insightfulness continues to impress this lord.”

Shen Yuan’s eyes shook when Luo Binghe lifted his head. And then he realized how close they’d gotten again. Close, too close! He could practically see the jut of his collarbones peeking above the soft fur.

His heart wavered for a moment. Pulling his hand away, he feigned a cough into his fist. Taking the time to regain his composure, he said, “You know, we might not be kinsmen, but helping each other should be just enough to be good friends.”

“An offer of friendship?” His tone was deceptively intimate and unpredictable. To Shen Yuan’s wide eyes, Luo Binghe went to cup his hand over a fist in a formal gesture. Bending the steel sword that was his spine, he proclaimed to him, “Then this lord shall avail to raise his reputation and prowess. To be regarded as worthy in Shen Yuan’s eyes and in the eyes of the Heavens, this one will surpass expectations.”

The soft waves of his dark hair fell over the white fur as Shen Yuan exasperatedly tugged at Luo Binghe’s arms, encouraging the demon lord to stand back up from his unnecessary display of supplication. He had the feeling they’d cleared some sort of checkpoint or hurdle.

How dangerous. The allure of Luo Binghe’s every word and smile were like spring waters trickling gently past Shen Yuan’s ironclad defenses. His own charisma made Shen Yuan, who had resolved to remain highly vigilant, want to believe his words just like that.

He noticed that Luo Binghe had stopped directly at the boundary. The demon lord was looking at the fog as though it had wronged him in some way.

Ping.

【Notifying the Esteemed Host! Skinship is required for Protagonist A to gain entry. Would Protagonist <<SHEN YUAN>> like to add Protagonist <<LUO BINGHE>> to his party? Y/N?】

Since it was like that, he could only comply. Secreting the weary sigh in his heart, Shen Yuan took the initiative. With one step into the swirling white mist, he twisted his body sideways and extended his palm. He gazed at him expectantly.

Without hesitation, Luo Binghe took his hand. And Shen Yuan pulled him into his world.

Ping.

【Congratulations! Protagonist <<LUO BINGHE>> has been successfully added to the party!】

Ping.

【Reloading the map! Loading...loading...success! The simulation has been reconfigured! Jiāyóu, lăoshī!】

[weldonturner]

New Post has been published on Weldon Turner

New Post has been published on http://www.weldonturner.com/for-a-higher-power-from-hacksaw-ridge-to-muhammad-ali/

For A Higher Power: From Hacksaw Ridge to Muhammad Ali

Muhammad Ali arrives at federal court in Houston for his trial on a charge of refusing to be inducted into the Army.

What does it take for someone to stand for what they believe in? What does it take for someone to sacrifice for what they believe in? What does it take for someone to literally sacrifice their liberty, their very life for their faith?  In the film, Hacksaw Ridge, Desmond Doss enlists in the army and is faced with these questions right from the get-go. Muhammad Ali is faced with these questions in the prime of his fighting career, and thousands of others have faced these questions for centuries.

When I think of the term ‘conscientious objector’, Vietnam and the young men who refused to join the conflict immediately crowd the imagination.  Images of long haired hippies, in tie-die tee-shirts, ‘turning on, tuning in, and dropping out’ [1] in the streets of San Francisco and New York City in the late ‘60s, holding peace signs an decrying the evils of the War, are synonymous with the term.

Hacksaw Ridge

The 2016 Academy Award Winning feature film, Hacksaw Ridge, portrays the life of a conscientious objector that could not be farther from that image. Desmond Doss was working at a shipyard in Newport News, Virginia, [2]. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour in December of 1941 he was determined to serve in the military, yet would not compromise his faith as a Seventh-day Adventist.  This meant adhering to two commandments that would cause him great difficulty. He would not kill, and he would observe the Sabbath. Consequently he refused to carry a weapon, let alone fire one, and requested a pass to attend church on Saturday.

Pfc. Doss’ beliefs put him on a collision course not only with his fellow soldiers, but with his superiors as well.  DesmondDoss.com says they ‘ostracized him, bullied him, called him awful names, and cursed at him’ [3]. In the film, he is put on trial and is about to be court martialled for insubordination.  It is only through his father’s intervention, a World War I veteran, and a letter from the father’s former superior officer, that the charges against Doss is dismissed. His actions were protected under the U.S. Constitution.

Doss soon proves himself with acts of bravery and kindness and selflessness, like treating the blisters on his fellow soldiers’ feet, and sharing his canteen with those suffering from heat stroke [4].

Doss is deployed to the South Pacific and sees action on the islands of Guam, Leyte and Okinawa. By May of 1945 the men of Doss’ division were on Okinawa, attempting to take the Maeda Escarpment, a daunting clifflike structure the men dubbed ‘Hacksaw Ridge’.  The Battle of Okinawa is described as one of the bloodiest battles in the Pacific Theater, [5] and the fighting at Hacksaw Ridge was no exception. Under intense enemy fire Doss’ again put his faith in action. After storming the rock-face the Americans were faced with a fierce counterattack and were forced to retreat down the vertical face of the ridge. But here again, answering a higher power, Doss disobeyed orders and charged back into the firefight [6]. [He] crawled from wounded to wounded, dressing their injuries and dragging them to the cliff’s edge, where they could be lowered to medics below. Hit by grenade fragments…Doss refused to endanger another medic and dressed his own wounds. He continued to help those in need, even when a Japanese tank approached. When another enemy bullet shattered his arm, Doss patched it up and crawled 300 yards through enemy fire and explosions rather than expose anyone else to further danger’ [7].  His exploits resulted in at least 75 lives saved.  That day was May 5th, 1945, a Saturday. For his actions that day Doss was awarded Congressional Medal of Honour, the U.S.  highest honor for bravery under fire.

Who is a Conscientious Objector?

The website of the Selective Service System of the United States says ‘[a] conscientious objector is one who is opposed to serving in the armed forces and/or bearing arms on the grounds of moral or religious principles.’

There are two types of service available to conscientious objectors.

The person who is opposed to any form of military service will be assigned to alternative service…

The person whose beliefs allow him to serve in the military but in a noncombatant capacity will serve in the Armed Forces but will not be assigned training or duties that include using weapons.

The Selective Service System, [8].

Conscientious Objectors in the Past

Encyclopedia Britannica says that conscientious objection to military service has existed for centuries, since the beginning of the ‘Christian era’. [9]. It developed as a ‘doctrine’ of the Mennonites in Europe during the 16th century, and among the ‘Society of Friends’ (the Quakers) in England in the 17th Century, and the Church of the Brethren and of the Dukhobors in Russia in the 18th century.

In the United States, since the Civil War and the enactment of conscript laws, some form of alternate service has been granted to those unwilling to bear arms, [10]. In 1940 conscientious objector status, ‘including some form of service unrelated to and not controlled by the military, was granted, but solely on the basis of membership in a recognized pacifistic religious sect. Objections of a philosophical, political, or personal moral nature were not considered valid reasons for refusing military service.’

During World War II Great Britain granted several exemptions from military service and since 1960 several European countries, including France, Belgium, Sweden, The Netherlands, East and West Germany granted Objector status on a variety of religious, philosophical and moral grounds.

Muhammad Ali

No discourse on conscientious objectors can be complete without discussing Muhammad Ali, probably the best-known Objector of all.

Cassius Clay shot to fame after winning the gold medal for boxing in the Rome Olympics of 1960. In a British television interview in 1971, he relates an incident that occurred just three days after winning the medal. He goes into a restaurant in his racially segregated hometown of Louisville, Kentucky, with the gold medal around his neck, and expects to be served. He’s told that ‘we don’t serve negroes’. ‘I said, “I don’t eat them neither…I’m the Olympic gold medal winner, three days ago I fought for this country in Rome, I won the gold medal, and I’m gonna eat!’…Anyway they put me out, and I had to leave that restaurant, in my hometown, where I went to church and served in their Christianity, and my Daddy fought in all the wars. Just won the gold medal and couldn’t eat downtown. I said something’s wrong…’ [11].

Less than four years later, in February of 1964, he fought ‘the Bear’, Sonny Liston, for the heavyweight championship of the world. Liston could not continue after the sixth round. The day after his victory, Clay declared his conversion to Islam and introduced the world to the personae that billions of people around the world would come to know as Muhammad Ali.

A mere two years later, at 24 and in the prime of his boxing career, Ali was drafted into the U.S. Army. He filed for conscientious objector status and refused to go to Vietnam, based on his religious beliefs as a Muslim.

‘My conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother, some darker people, some poor hungry people in the mud, for big powerful America, and shoot them for what?  They never called me nigger, they never lynched me, they never put dogs on me, they never robbed me of my nationality, raped and killed my mother and father…shoot them for what, why’m I gonna shoot them, them poor little black people? Little babies and children, women, how’m I gonna shot them poor people? Just take me to jail!’ [12].

Conscientious objector status was denied Ali in 1967 and he was sentenced to five years in prison. He remained out of prison while his case was appealed. He was however denied the ability to make an income from his profession. He was unable to fight in the United States, and was not allowed to leave the country.  The case went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, where his conviction was overturned in 1971.

In its ruling of ‘Marsellus CLAY, Jr. also known as Muhammad Ali, Petitioner, v. UNITED STATES,’ the decision stated, in part:

In order to qualify for classification as a conscientious objector, a registrant must satisfy three basic tests. He must show that he is conscientiously opposed to war in any form. Gillette v. United States, 401 U.S. 437, 91 S.Ct. 828, 28 L.Ed.2d 168. He must show that this opposition is based upon religious training and belief, as the term has been construed in our decisions. United States v. Seeger, 380 U.S. 163, 85 S.Ct. 850, 13 L.Ed.2d 733; Welsh v. United States, 398 U.S. 333, 90 S.Ct. 1792, 26 L.Ed.2d 308. And he must show that this objection is sincere. Witmer v. United States, 348 U.S. 375, 75 S.Ct. 392, 99 L.Ed. 428. In applying these tests, the Selective Service System must be concerned with the registrant as an individual, not with its own interpretation of the dogma of the religious sect, if any, to which he may belong. United States v. Seeger, supra; Gillette v. United States, supra; Williams v. United States, 5 Cir., 216 F.2d 350, 352.

In this Court the Government has now fully conceded that the petitioner’s beliefs are based upon ‘religious training and belief,’ as defined in United States v. Seeger, supra: ‘There is no dispute that petitioner’s professed beliefs were founded on basic tenets of the Muslim religion, as he understood them, and derived in substantial part from his devotion to Allah as the Supreme Being. Thus, under this Court’s decision in United States v. Seeger, 380 U.S. 163, 85 S.Ct. 850, 13 L.Ed.2d 733, his claim unquestionably was within the ‘religious training and belief’ clause of the exemption provision.’ 4 This concession is clearly correct. For the record shows that the petitioner’s beliefs are founded on tenets of the Muslim religion as he understands them. They are surely no less religiously based than those of the three registrants before this Court in Seeger. See also Welsh v. United States, 398 U.S. 333, 90 S.Ct. 1792, 26 L.Ed.2d 308. [13].

Ali would return to the ring that year and fight Joe Frazier in Madison Square Garden for the championship. Years later, slowed considerably by Parkinson’s, Ali became a figure beloved around the world.  Who can forget the magical moment at the opening ceremonies at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta when Ali, hand trembling from the disease, slowly lit the Olympic torch?

Other Notable Conscientious Objectors

The life of a conscience objector—men (primarily, men) who are willing to sacrifice for their beliefs, many of which are religious beliefs– does not always have a happy ending.

Ben Salmon

Ben Salmon was a writer and observant Catholic who refused induction into the U.S. army as a matter of conscience during World War I. He ‘rejected the “Just War Theory”. He believed no war could be just. He said he would not cooperate in any way with the war machine’ [14].

He was arrested, court-martialled, and sentenced to death by the military.  While in prison he wrote an open letter to then president Woodrow Wilson.

“Religious objectors are such through their faith in God. They believe the best way to preserve the nation’s honor is to avoid dishonoring God; the best way to conquer an enemy is to treat him as God prescribes. The religious objector helps his country more in one hour than a regiment of military men could in a hundred years, for God holds the destiny of nations in the palm of His hand. To serve Him is to ensure the country’s future. . .”

He was later admitted to the St. Elizbeth Hospital in Washington D.C., in the wing for the criminally insane. His actions were supposedly considered insane since most observant Catholics did sign up for military service. In November 1920, he was released thanks to a Catholic priest and the American Civil Liberties Union. He would die less than twelve years later, in poverty, at age 43.

Tom Atlee

Tom Atlee, brother of British Prime minister, Clement Atlee (1945-1951), was a ‘devoted Christian’ and, says his grand daughter, Cath Atlee, ‘believed that war could never be the Christian answer to any dispute – he was prepared to suffer for what he believed in.’  [15]. During World War I He was denied conscientious objector status and court-martialed in 1917. He spent a year in prison, three months of which was with hard labour. He was never able to ‘fully’ practice in his chosen field of architecture.

Franz Jägerstätter

Franz Jägerstätter was the sexton of a parish church in Austria during the 1930s. He opposed the Nazi regime. After being inducted into the German army he refused to serve.

A letter he wrote in prison reads:

“Just as the man who thinks only of this world does everything Possible to make life here easier and better, so must we, too, who believe in the eternal Kingdom, risk everything in order to receive a great reward there. Just as those who believe in National Socialism tell themselves that their struggle is for survival, so must we, too, convince ourselves that our struggle is for the eternal Kingdom. But with this difference: we need no rifles or pistols for our battle, but instead, spiritual weapons–and the foremost among these is prayer…. Through prayer, we continually implore new grace from God, since without God’s help and grace it would be impossible for us to preserve the Faith and be true to His commandments….

“Let us love our enemies, bless those who curse us, pray for Those who persecute us. For love will conquer and will endure for all eternity. And happy are they who live and die in God’s love” [16].

(This letter, according to The Society of Archbishop Justus, a group of Anglican computer scientists,  [17],   found its way into a book, In Solitary Witness, about German Catholics response to Adolf Hitler. The book, in turn, reportedly influenced Daniel Ellsberg, the military analyst famous for leaking the study on American decision making in Vietnam, which became known as the Pentagon Papers.)

Imprisoned in Linz and Berlin, Jägerstätter was convicted in a military trial and beheaded on August 9th, 1943.

 Final Thoughts

This discussion is in no way intended to compare Desmond Doss and Muhammad Ali. Doss’ faith grew out of his background as a devout Seventh-day Adventist. Ali’s faith in Islam was in part driven the rejection meted out to him by an unjust society, a society that claimed Christianity as its own, while rejecting him as a human being. Moreover Ali, for many years, was for many the face of an entire religion and race, a singular representative of hundreds of millions of people, a position which he accepted.

For the other men in this piece their Christian faith forbade them to engage in a conflict they believed that was at odds with their beliefs.  What does this say about faith–religious faith–that can be both so loving, brimming with empathy and sacrifice, and at the same time be espoused by those brimming with hate and enmity? This does not just apply to Christianity, but, I’ll argue, to practically any belief system.

No, I’m not in any way comparing the impact of these men on society, nor am I comparing the sacrifice of one vs. the other. I am addressing the idea of faith, and the strength of character that a strong unshakeable faith can instill in a human being.

Faith that keeps you grounded in a set of core beliefs will protect you from passing fads, whether philosophical, political, cultural. The danger lies in the basic principles on which your faith is based, and how you interpret them. Ultimately that’s an individual responsibility, a responsibility to understand and accept the core principles on which your faith is based, and the courage to stand for, and ultimately sacrifice for those principles.

© 2017, Weldon Turner, All Rights Reserved

Next Month: The Luxury of Atheism

Image

Muhammad Ali arrives at federal court in Houston for his trial on a charge of refusing to be inducted into the Army.

Credit: Bettmann / Contributor

Collection: Bettmann

Date created: 19 June, 1967

Source: Bettmann

Editorial license secured.

References

[1] Brainyquote.com, https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/t/timothylea380739.html, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[2] DesmondDoss.com, https://desmonddoss.com/bio/bio-real.php, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[3] DesmondDoss.com, https://desmonddoss.com/bio/bio-real.php, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[4] DesmondDoss.com, https://desmonddoss.com/bio/bio-real.php, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[5] Historynet.com,  http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-okinawa-the-bloodiest-battle-of-the-pacific-war.htm, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[6] DesmondDoss.com, https://desmonddoss.com/bio/bio-real.php, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[7]  Historynet.com, http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-okinawa-the-bloodiest-battle-of-the-pacific-war.htm accessed, March 25, 2017.

[8] SSS.gov, https://www.sss.gov/consobj, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[9] Bratnnica.com, https://www.britannica.com/topic/conscientious-objector,   accessed March 11, 2017.

[10] Bratnnica.com, https://www.britannica.com/topic/conscientious-objector,  accessed March 25th, 2017

[11] DemoracyNow.com, https://www.democracynow.org/2016/6/6/john_legend_reads_muhammad_alis_1966, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[12] outube.com, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQdOJvs26r4,  accessed March 25th, 2017.

[13] The Legal Information Institute and Cornell University,  https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/403/698 accessed, March 25th, 2017

[14] BenSalmon.org, http://www.bensalmon.org/uploads/8/2/5/7/82576010/bensalmonbrochure.pdf, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[15] The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/apr/25/conscientious-objectors-men-fought-different-battle, accessed, March 25, 2017

[16] The Society of Archbishop Justus, http://justus.anglican.org/resources/bio/224.html, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[17] The Society of Archbishop Justus, http://justus.anglican.org/soaj.html,   accessed, March 25, 2017.

 Links

Brainyquote.com, https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/t/timothylea380739.html,

DesmondDoss.com, https://desmonddoss.com/bio/bio-real.php,

Historynet.com,  http://www.historynet.com/battle-of-okinawa-the-bloodiest-battle-of-the-pacific-war.htm

SSS.gov, https://www.sss.gov/consobj,

Britannica.com, https://www.britannica.com/topic/conscientious-objector,

DemocracyNow.org, https://www.democracynow.org/2016/6/6/john_legend_reads_muhammad_alis_1966,

Youtube.com, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQdOJvs26r4,

The Legal Information Institute and Cornell University,  https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/403/698

BenSalmon.org, http://www.bensalmon.org/uploads/8/2/5/7/82576010/bensalmonbrochure.pdf

The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/apr/25/conscientious-objectors-men-fought-different-battle

The Society of Archbishop Justus, http://justus.anglican.org/resources/bio/224.html, accessed, March 25, 2017.

[allcheatscodes]

magic duels of the planeswalkers 2014 xbox 360

http://allcheatscodes.com/magic-duels-of-the-planeswalkers-2014-xbox-360/

magic duels of the planeswalkers 2014 xbox 360

Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 cheats & more for Xbox 360 (X360)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for Xbox 360 (X360). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

Use the links above or scroll down to see all the Xbox 360 cheats we have available for Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014.

Check PlayStation 3 cheats for this game

Genre: Role-Playing, Third-Person 2D Action RPG

Developer: Stainless Steel Studios

Publisher: Microsoft Game Studios

ESRB Rating: Teen

Release Date: June 26, 2013

Hints

Currently we have no tips for Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Cheats

Currently we have no cheats or codes for Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Unlockables

Title Unlocks

Alara Champion : Defeat every node on Alara.

Auramancer : Control a creature enchanted with three Auras you own.

Demonic Master : Control five Demons.

Herald of Angels : Have five Angels enter the battlefield under your controlduring a game.

Innistrad Champion : Defeat every node on Innistrad.

Lord of Leviathans : In a duel, control creatures with a combined power of50.

Mage of Alabaster : Your favorite color is white.

Mage of Azure : Your favorite color is blue.

Mage of Crimson : Your favorite color is red.

Mage of Jade : Your favorite color is green.

Mage of Onyx : Your favorite color is black.

Master of the Planes : Complete the single-player campaign.

Necromancer : Control thirteen Zombies.

Phantom Mage : Win a game controlling only Illusions.

Puppet Master : Control a creature an opponent owns.

Ravnica Champion : Defeat every node on Ravnica.

Shandalar Champion : Defeat every node on Shandalar.

Sliver Hivelord : Win a game with the Sliver Hive deck.

Spellslinger : In a duel, use spells to deal 20 damage to your opponent.

The Annihilator : Cause an opponent to sacrifice five permanents in a singleduel.

Zendikar Champion : Defeat every node on Zendikar.

Promotional Unlock Codes

Promo Card #01 : Enter GKSNDR

Promo Card #02 : Enter DWNNDR

Promo Card #03 : Enter FTHPTH

Promo Card #04 : Enter TRCKSC

Promo Card #05 : Enter PRSTTT

Promo Card #06 : Enter RSNGSN

Promo Card #07 : Enter XBXBDZ

Promo Card #08 : Enter PXPRMD

Promo Card #09 : Enter MGCCTN

Promo Card #10 : Enter JRHPRD

Masks Of The Dimir

Archaeomancer : 18th win

Archaeomancer : 9th win

Avatar of Will : 20th win

Consult the Necrosages : 11th win

Countersquall : 29th win

Diluvian Primordial : 26th win

Dinrova Horror : 28th win

Dire Undercurrents : 14th win

Doomsday Specter : 30th win

Evil Twin : 10th win

Fool’s Demise : 17th win

Guardian of the Ages : 19th win

Hands of Binding : 24th win

Illusionary Armor : 13th win

Illusionary Armor : 4th win

Lobotomy : 15th win

Lobotomy : 2nd win

Mark of the Vampire : 6th win

Mental Vapors : 25th win

Mindleech Mass : 1st win

Ravenous Rats : 3rd win

Shadow Slice : 22nd win

Slate Street Ruffian : 21st win

Sleep : 5th win

Smog Elemental : 23rd win

Stolen Identity : 27th win

Threads of Disloyalty : 7th win

Threads of Disloyalty : 16th win

Treasure Hunt : 8th win

Vengeful Vampire : 12th win

Deck Awards: Sliver Hive

Armageddon : 12th win

Armageddon : 22nd win

Battle Sliver : 4th win

Bifurcate : 23rd win

Bifurcate : 7th win

Blur Sliver : 14th win

Bonescythe Sliver : 6th win

Faith’s Fetters : 26th win

Faith’s Fetters : 5th win

Faith’s Fetters : 17th win

Fiery Justice : 25th win

Fiery Justice : 3rd win

Indestructibility : 21st win

Indestructibility : 2nd win

Indestructibility : 9th win

Lifeline : 18th win

Lifeline : 27th win

Lifeline : 13th win

Megantic Sliver : 1st win

Mirror Entity : 19th win

Path to Exile : 11th win

Predatory Sliver : 8th win

Savage Beating : 28th win

Shared Animosity : 10th win

Survival of the Fittest : 20th win

Thorncaster Sliver : 16th win

Titanic Ultimatum : 30th win

Unflinching Courage : 24th win

Wild Pair : 15th win

Wild Pair : 29th win

Deck Awards: Mind Maze

Æther Figment : 5th win

Æther Figment : 13th win

Ætherplasm : 27th win

Cancel : 2nd win

Chronozoa : 10th win

Counterspell : 28th win

Draining Whelk : 11th win

Gossamer Phantasm : 4th win

Halcyon Glaze : 19th win

Halcyon Glaze : 8th win

Illusory Angel : 25th win

Incursion Specialist : 24th win

Krovikan Mist : 20th win

Leyline Phantom : 23rd win

Lord of the Unreal : 9th win

Lord of the Unreal : 14th win

Lord of the Unreal : 17th win

Lord of the Unreal : 1st win

Omniscience : 30th win

Ovinize : 21st win

Ovinize : 29th win

Pantasmal Image : 7th win

Phantasmal Image : 16th win

Phantasmal Image : 12th win

Twincast : 22nd win

Unsummon : 3rd win

Unsummon : 18th win

Veiled Sentry : 15th win

Veiled Sentry : 6th win

Wistful Thinking : 26th win

Deck Awards: Hunter’s Strength

Beastmaster Ascension : 26th win

Bellowing Tanglewurm : 27th win

Biorhythm : 25th win

Bramblebrush : 19th win

Brawn : 22nd win

Craterhoof Behemoth : 30th win

Elephant Guide : 16th win

Enlarge : 7th win

Eternal Witness : 9th win

Eternal Witness : 15th win

Fangren Firstborn : 23rd win

Leatherback Baloth : 8th win

Living Hive : 12th win

Master of the Wild Hunt : 1st win

Nature’s Lore : 29th win

Nature’s Lore : 21st win

Overrun : 6th win

Overwhelming Stampede : 24th win

Predator Ooze : 11th win

Prey Upon : 18th win

Primalcrux : 10th win

Rampaging Baloth : 20th win

Rancor : 5th win

Rancor : 17th win

Rancor : 28th win

Regal Force : 14th win

Revive : 4th win

Savage Summoning : 13th win

Staff of the Wild Magus : 3rd win

Wurmskin Forger : 2nd win

Deck Awards: Guardians Of Light

Angelic Destiny : 10th win

Armored Ascension : 25th win

Armored Ascension : 7th win

Aura of Silence : 19th win

Auratouched Mage : 4th win

Concerted Effort : 30th win

Daybreak Coronet : 16th win

Divine Deflection : 29th win

Divine Favor : 2nd win

Divine Favor : 12th win

Evangelize : 21st win

Final Judgment : 20th win

Guardian’s Magemark : 13th win

Guardian’s Magemark : 27th win

Idyllic Tutor : 23rd win

Idyllic Tutor : 17th win

Kor Spiritdancer : 8th win

Kor Spiritdancer : 28th win

Mesa Enchantress : 14th win

Mesa Enchantress : 5th win

Pacifism : 18th win

Pacifism : 6th win

Pariah : 22nd win

Retether : 26th win

Seasoned Marshal : 3rd win

Seraph of the Sword : 11th win

Sigil of the Empty Throne : 1st win

Three Dreams : 9th win

Totem-Guide Hartebeest : 15th win

Unquestioned Authority : 24th win

Deck Awards: Firewave

Browbeat : 18th win

Chandra’s Spitfire : 20th win

Disintegrate : 21st win

Final Fortune : 26th win

Final Fortune : 22nd win

Fire Servant : 24th win

Fire Servant : 5th win

Fireshrieker : 8th win

Fireshrieker : 29th win

Fireshrieker : 16th win

Flame Slash : 19th win

Flamebreak : 6th win

Flames of the Firebrand : 17th win

Furnace of Rath : 9th win

Grim Lavamancer : 14th win

Grim Lavamancer : 7th win

Hostility : 30th win

Inferno : 1st win

Inferno Titan : 10th win

Kiln Fiend : 13th win

Kiln Fiend : 4th win

Kiln Fiend : 23rd win

Lava Axe : 2nd win

Reverberate : 25th win

Seismic Assault : 12th win

Staff of the Flame Magus : 3rd win

Stalking Vengeance : 28th win

Sulfuric Vortex : 15th win

Sulfurice Vortex : 27th win

Wild Guess : 11th win

Deck Awards: Enter The Dracomancer

Artifact Mutation : 27th win

Banefire : 23rd win

Bloodbraid Elf : 24th win

Borderland Ranger : 4th win

Broodmate Dragon : 20th win

Consume Strength : 21st win

Crucible of Fire : 13th win

Crucible of Fire : 6th win

Dragon Breath : 19th win

Dragon Broodmother : 30th win

Dragon Fangs : 3rd win

Dragon Roost : 11th win

Dragonlair Spider : 25th win

Dragonspeaker Shaman : 16th win

Dragonspeaker Shaman : 12th win

Form of the Dragon : 1st win

Hellkite Hatchling : 8th win

Jund Battlemage : 15th win

Kaarthus, Tyrant of Jund : 10th win

Maelstrom Pulse : 17th win

Maelstrom Pulse : 9th win

Maelstrom Pulse : 28th win

Ogre Battledriver : 18th win

Penumbra Wurm : 29th win

Predator Dragon : 7th win

Sangrite Surge : 5th win

Spellbreaker Behemoth : 26th win

Torrent of Fire : 14th win

Torrent of Fire : 2nd win

Torrent of Fire : 22nd win

Deck Awards: Deadwalkers

Consuming Vapor : 27th win

Corrupt : 13th win

Corrupt : 18th win

Cruel Revival : 4th win

Death Baron : 30th win

Death Cloud : 26th win

Endless Ranks of the Dead : 9th win

Exhume : 23rd win

Farbog Boneflinger : 5th win

Geralf’s Messenger : 16th win

Geralf’s Messenger : 7th win

Grave Betrayal : 28th win

Grave Pact : 22nd win

Gravecrawler : 11th win

Gravecrawler : 6th win

Lord of the Undead : 19th win

Lord of the Undead : 8th win

Mikaeus, the Unhallowed : 10th win

Mutilate : 24th win

Nightmare : 15th win

Quest for the Gravelord : 17th win

Reanimate : 14th win

Rise of the Dark Realms : 20th win

Shrivel : 2nd win

Staff of the Death Magus : 12th win

Undead Warchief : 29th win

Undead Warchief : 21st win

Vampric Tutor : 25th win

Vial of Poison : 3rd win

Zombie Apocalypse : 1st win

Deck Awards: Chant Of Mul Daya

Artisan of Kozilek : 16th win

Bountiful Harvest : 2nd win

Bountiful Harvest : 13th win

Eldrazi Conscription : 7th win

Elvish Piper : 25th win

Elvish Piper : 20th win

Exploration : 29th win

Exploration : 22nd win

Explore : 5th win

Eye of Ugin : 12th win

Fierce Empath : 9th win

Green Sun’s Zenith : 11th win

Into the Wilds : 4th win

Oracle of Mul Daya : 6th win

Pelakka Wurm : 17th win

Plow Under : 27th win

Primeval Titan : 1st win

Rites of Flourishing : 15th win

Rites of Flourishing : 14th win

Scute Mob : 10th win

Summoning Trap : 26th win

Tangle : 24th win

Tangle : 21st win

Terastodon : 8th win

Terastodon : 28th win

Tooth and Nail : 30th win

Vengevine : 19th win

Vigor : 23rd win

Woodborn Behemoth : 18th win

Woodborn Behemoth : 3rd win

Deck Awards: Avacyn’s Glory

Angel’s Mercy : 2nd win

Angelic Overseer : 9th win

Avacyn, Angel of Hope : 10th win

Baneslayer Angel : 16th win

Bonds of Faith : 18th win

Champion of the Parish : 12th win

Champion of the Parish : 6th win

Deathless Angel : 26th win

Devout Invocation : 20th win

Elite Inquisitor : 25th win

Fiend Hunter : 15th win

Gather the Townsfolk : 4th win

Grand Abolisher : 22nd win

Hallowed Burial : 24th win

Honor of the Pure : 5th win

Increasing Devotion : 19th win

Martyr’s Bond : 27th win

Mentor of the Meek : 14th win

Mikaus, the Lunarch : 1st win

Restoration Angel : 23rd win

Ring of Three Wishes : 13th win

Seraph of Dawn : 17th win

Seraph of Dawn : 3rd win

Seraph of Dawn : 7th win

Soul Warden : 21st win

Soul Warden : 29th win

Thalia, Guardian of Thraben : 11th win

Thalia, Guardian of Thraben : 28th win

Thraben Doomsayer : 8th win

Twilight Shepherd : 30th win

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

Currently we have no glitches for Magic: Duels of the Planeswalkers 2014 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Guides

Currently no guide available.

Achievements

Trophy List

Acquire the Sliver Fossil – Defeat the “Sliver Hive” deck in campaign mode. – Bronze

Burn Monster, Burn! – Lose the ‘Angry Mob’ encounter. – Bronze

Chandra’s Ally – Defeat Ramaz. – Gold

Defeat Ramaz’s Ally – Defeat the “Chant of Mul Daya” deck in campaign mode. – Bronze

Flawless Victory – Win a game without losing any life. – Bronze

In it to Win – Win 25 games. – Bronze

Lord of Foriys – Win a Two-Headed Giant game. – Bronze

Maestro of Sealed – Complete the Sealed campaign. – Silver

Masterful Strategist – Win a Multiplayer game. – Bronze

Recover the Scrying Shard – Defeat the “Enter the Dracomancer” deck in campaign mode. – Bronze

Sealed the Deal – Win a Sealed game. – Bronze

Secrets of the Dimir – Defeat the “Masks of the Dimir” deck in campaign mode. – Bronze

Skilled Tactician – Solve a Challenge. – Bronze

Spellbook Complete – Fully unlock one deck. – Bronze

Worthy Adversary – Defeat the “Avacyn’s Glory” deck in campaign mode. – Bronze

[dscripting]

Text reads: Is one doing me wrong let himself look to that, his actions are his own, as for me I am only receiving what the world nature wills me to receive and acting as the world nature wills me to act Marcus Aurelius Dscript intro: http://dscript.org/dscript.pdf Some Short Stories in Dscript : http://dscript.org/story.pdf