A/N:For those of you who never read the novel here are some quick terms. They're not really strictly translated, I tried to assimilate as many like terms together in order to reduce the amount of strange vocabulary in the text. For those who read the novel before, if you see Fu instead of Fuwa I'm implying that it is of Buddhist origin. Sorry for the confusion.

Dao - Refers to Taoism

Fu - Refers to Buddhism

Mo - Refers to heretical though i.e. not the above two

QingYun - A Taoist sect

TianYin - A Buddhist sect

Esper - Basically Noble Phantasms in a sense or advanced mystic codes from the Fate universe. They're weapons with a spirit inside of them

Shixiong - Older brother disciple. The Shi part relates it disciples and the xiong means older brother. If there's enough of a response it becomes more relevant later

Since the dawn of mankind, humans have been trained to observe the strange and hostile world that they lived in. The sounds of rumbling thunder with fierce bursts of lightning, torrential rains with howling winds, devastating floods whose destruction knew no bounds, and countless other natural disasters are all factors in humanity's conclusion that these forced of nature are above the power of any one man to create. With such ruthless power before their very eyes, humans, gifted with their insight, are led to believe that divine beings govern the heavens above while demon and devils rule the earth and hells below.

In addition to this, no man can escape the cold grasp of death regardless of how powerful or great they were in life. Thus, man lusts for life's sweet delights and fears deaths cold embrace. Because of this fear, humans are invested in searching for the key to immortality. Yet, comparatively, humans were weaker than other animals and phantasmal beasts. Yet, despite this weakness, humanity still managed to dominate all other living species in nature due to a singular gift.

Humanity is able to pass on its knowledge to the next generation. Man is able to gather the knowledge accrued in their lifetime and gift to their children. The cycle repeats and, thus, man is left more knowledgeable and learned as time progresses.

Even as a man fades into death, it is believed that their soul is persevered. If a man was truly pious and saintly then he might be reborn such that his new body would have the potential to reach the heavens and join the gods. Even if a man is no so incredible in their life, they're saga will continue albeit under a different banner.

This is how the curious existence of one Zhang XiaoFan came to be. Without divine insight into one's soul, the boy was utterly mundane and unremarkable, for him to even advance to intermediate cultivation techniques would be a feat in itself. Yet, for those enlightened or spiritually cultivated to a high level, his soul would be radiant and blinding like the glint of steel under a harsh sun. A soul so unique and powerful that is was capable of warping the very foundations of reality to superimpose itself.

You see, this village bumpkin, XiaoFan, is the reincarnation of the Wrought Iron Hero, Emiya Shirou, a soul that did not belong in this era of spiritual cultivation and the search for immortality. Rather, Emiya should have been claimed by the collective manifestation of humanity to serve an its enforcer until the end of its existence. He was destined, fated, to watching his ambitions and dreams die before his very eyes, to deliver his own tragedy. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, when Alaya attempted to procure Emiya's soul, she failed to properly grasp it and, as such, the existence known as Emiya ended up being lost.

Perhaps it was a mercy that Emiya avoided this fate.

His story now begins in a small country village name Grasstemple Village. It is a small village of about forty families making up a community of about two hundred members. As a self-sufficient village that rarely interacts with the outside world, the populace mostly consisted of farmers and loggers. The QingYun (Green Cloud) sect up north occasionally made their way to the small settlement and the villagers gladly sold their surplus lumber to the cultivators. The QingYun were very generous and kind and kept unsavory folk out of the mountain range next to the village. As such, the QingYun and the villagers enjoyed a rather harmonious relationship from which they both benefitted.

The QingYun themselves were the most predominate practitioners of Dao (Taoist Spiritualism). Their various branches were based in the mountain's peaks. Their techniques and cultivation skills were known throughout the land and soon they became the most famous of all cultivation sects regardless if they were Dao, Fu (Buddhist Spiritualism) or Mo (Other/Heretical Spiritualism). They enjoyed a rather fortunate public perception. They were righteous and morally good. They banished evil from the land and kept chaos from approaching from delivering justice to villains and evil-doers.

Despite these guardians keeping watching over Grasstemple, the peaceful days were not meant to last for XiaoFan. Thus, the beginning of Emiya's tale begins when his reincarnation, XiaoFan, awakens his soul and Emiya Shirou is reborn. This is not to say that none of Emiya's mannerisms have transferred over to XiaoFan. Rather, because of the powerful nature of Emiya's soul, XiaoFan has been changed far from what he was originally intended to be.

Whereas XiaoFan would be rather unremarkable spiritually, his potential no larger than a rock, Emiya Shirou would be greater than that, possessing a lifetime of information for XiaoFan to use at his disposal. The teachings of Dao, Fu and Mo would be used in conjunction with his powerful magecraft in order to become one of the most prominent figures in the mystical world.

However, we are getting ahead of ourselves.

The tale now begins on an otherwise normal day in Grasstemple Village. Emiya Shirou had already been reborn into XiaoFan for ten years now.

The sky over Grasstemple Village was growing darker. Large storm clouds carrying cold rains approached the village quickly, an oddity considering that in the morning that the skies were clear. It was only about midday now, so such a rapid change in the weather is rather strange and ominous.

Zhang XiaoFan was doing his service to the village he lived in by performing his chores. Ordinarily, the children would simply help around the house or help with mundane organization, their bodies could be directed by competent adults without any question. However, XiaoFan was always very physically strong and, as a result, often was given tasks to help the adults chop up wood.

As XiaoFan finished up with his share of work, he looked up to the sky and is brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

It was always better to be safe than sorry. In the same vein is was also better to be dry than wet and freezing, the mountain rains were always very chilly. The young boy returned his small hatchet to his simple rope belt and began to bundle the wood.

Always the good Samaritan, he looked for the only other person still out in the woods, most likely to watch him and make sure nothing bad or unfortunate happened.

"Uncle Wang!" The young boy called out, "I'm done with the firewood! You should get back; the sky is dark!"

Said 'Uncle Wang' turned his head around to where kid was shouting. XiaoFan was pointing to the dark and broody sky. A light of understanding appeared in his eyes.

"Alright! You head back first without me; I still have to gather my things."

With that, XiaoFan headed back towards the village proper, hoping to deliver the result of his chores before the rains began.

Grasstemple village was a very quiet and quaint village. Whereas a major city such as Sunstream, located about a hundred miles to the southeast, may have housed over a hundred-thousand individuals. Grasstemple only had two hundred and then some villagers. They seldomly interacted with the outside world. Thus, all members of the community were expected to help out for their own continued survival. It was a humble life without luxury.

The only group to regularly visit the village were the QingYun sect. They occasionally sent one of their members down from the mountains to purchase any excess firewood and provisions that the village may not have needed.

Whenever their representative arrives, it was always a busy day at the village. Sometimes they traded in luxury goods or spices that could entice even to most devout man. Young XiaoFan enjoyed collecting various spices and condiments to add to his cooking. His mother's food, while tasty, was rather plain in comparison.

For the children, the QingYun were popular because they were heroes in their eyes. Their regal bearing combined with expensive robes gave the impression that they were all people of importance. The blades on their backs or strapped to their waists were further proof of their spiritual cultivation, as members of the QingYun sect were only granted these Esper blades when they reached a certain milestone in their cultivation. The children all aspired to be like the QingYun, but none more so than XiaoFan.

Ever since his parents first told hm stories of the QingYun, he had always wanted to be like them. He didn't care if he became a member of their sect himself, he just wanted to become a hero. He wanted to travel the lands and slay evil while saving people. The romantic ideas of heroinism stuck will the boy since early childhood until now and, with each passing day, his resolve only grew stronger.

Having managed to arrive at the village gates, Shirou quickly rushed back to his home and deposited the firewood in a neat pile where it belonged. He had done his chores rather quickly today, so he hoped that he could still catch up with his friend. As such, after washing his face very quickly using a basin and some clean water, he rushed back outside towards the old Grasstemple.

The residents of Grasstemple village knew what the namesake of their village referred to, but they didn't know the significance of the monument itself. As such, since it was of questionable religious significance, the villages rarely took care of the structure. Throughout the years and generations of residents, the temple had fallen into a sorry state and seemed to be on the verge of collapse. It made the perfect playground in the eyes of the children much to the concern and annoyance of the parents who believed that the kids would be crushed under stone.

"Ah Shirou! Are you done with your chores for today?" Came a voice from behind him inside the temple.

"JingYu!" The boy quickly turned around gave his best friend, Lin JingYu, a beaming smile. "Yes, I had just finished only a moment ago."

"That's good to hear. You missed us playing hero of course." JingYu pointed towards the ground in front of him.

Three boys held another down while their fourth member reenacted a QingYun purifying technique. The boy on the ground was the Mo (Heretic) for the day.

"Begone demon! Thunderblade!" One of the children excitedly shouted before smacking the boy on the floor with the stick he was holding.

XiaoFan – Shirou - looked on with concern entering his eyes. He turned to JingYu.

"Hey, JingYu, isn't this a bit excessive…"

"Hmm?" JingYu crossed his arms and smirked. "Nah, they're just playing, they're not really hurting at least."

"Wow, you older kids are strong…" Shirou drolled.

"Ha, and you'll be just as strong when you get to our age." JingYu witted back.

Then a deeper voice came from within in recesses of the temple and began to chant. The jingling of prayer beads echoed through the crumbling temple.

"My, my. Such violent temperament." An old Buddhist monk emerged from the back of the temple. Two fingers quickly darted out and struck the boy with the stick in the forehead causing him to collapse into a boneless heap on the floor. Falling to the ground in a kneel, the monk struck the 'Mo' boy with two fingers on his forehead as well. The bruises on his shins and arms began to fade rapidly.

"JingYu, who is he?" Shirou turned towards the older boy besides him. Unfortunately, his friend was as equally clueless and could only shake his head in defeat.

The monk then fully stepped out of the dark backs of the temple and revealed his full glory. His face was old and wrinkly, depicting years of wisdom and experience in an instant. His hair had long left him, not even a small beard was left on his face. His robe was old and worn, and from top to bottom, he was very dirty. Held between his hands was a rosary of jade beads, each of which was crystal clear and blinded the eye with their brilliance. There was a single strange bead on the string, a single dull purple bead that was neither jade nor stone.

The old man must have heard out whispering for he turned towards us and stared at JingYu. His gaze was like a hawk and one felt utterly vulnerable before it. It was as if all of one's life secrets were on display before the wizened monk. The gaze relaxed as the monk rumbled his throat in approval of something.

"Very good potential, but a rather rotten nature."

He then met Shirou's eyes with the same stare he gave to his friend, JingYu, earlier.

What the monk saw astounded him. While the boy's body possessed a very limited spiritual potential, his soul was rather curious. The old Buddhist monk watched epic battles waged against heroes and gods alike, wielding power not unlike that of the highest echelons of QingYun and TianYin (Heavenly Song) sects did. Espers of such destructive capability that he had never seen prior to this moment were on full display, and this boy in front of him managed to wield all of them with startling experience.

Thus, when the monk broke contact with Shirou, he was not surprised to find that his face had broken out in a sweat.

"Interesting… A unique potential." The monk muttered.

"Excuse me sir, but who are you? It just that we've never seen you in the village before."

The monk simply continued to stare at Shirou, the question said boy asked ignored entirely.

"A tragic end, but a twist of fate allows him to begin anew…"

JingYu glared at the old monk and started to pull on Shirou's hand.

"XiaoFan, this old monk is weird, let's not bother with him. Come, let's get someone else to deal with him." JingYu used his friend's given name to convey his seriousness. The younger boy just nodded in approval and followed his older friend out of the temple back into the village.

The storm clouds continued to gather. There would definitely be a storm tonight.

Back in the temple with the old monk, the single violet bead began to glow ominously.

It was midnight when the first rumble of thunder was heard.

However, there was something far more sinister at work this night than just some simple storm.

The old monk was still in the crumbling temple, meditating. He looked up from his sport towards the mountains. Mount QingYun was getting rather hazy. There were no people about, no one awake at this hour. The only sounds were that of the wind and thunder.

As a flash of lightning struck and lit up the entire temple for but a moment. Already the old monk was standing by the temple entrance, looking up at the sky.

A thick black fog began to run through the village from the west-end. The old monk, stalwart in his observation, stayed at the entrance and observed the black fog.

Suddenly, the black fog spiraled, like a tornado, and began to move towards the temple rapidly. Even as the apparition was traveling at a great speed, the monk could make out JingYu's body from within the spiraling fog

Without a moment of hesitation, the monk left from the temple entrance into the black spiral.

"Huh?" A sound of surprise came from an unknown place within the mass of darkness. The black tornado stopped after the extraction, the black gas rose up and circled the temple from above.

After a few moments, the old monk reemerged, carrying JingYu on his right shoulder like a sack. Part of his cassock had been torn from the howling winds he rushed into.

Under the fading light, JingYu's eyes were closed, though, it was difficult telling if he was sleeping or if he had fainted.

The monk hadn't put JingYu down. Looking up at the circling black fog, he said, "Your skill is deeply profound. But why are you attacking a little child? For shame."

"And who are you? You dare interrupt my plan?" A voice echoed from the darkness above.

The old monk ignored the voice and said, "Mount QingYun is near here. If QingYun knew that you were killing people here, I fear that even someone on your level would struggle."

"What is QingYun, but a bunch of blundering fools? Quantity is no matter if all of their members are weak." The voice responded to the monk with disdain, "You, bald-headed monk, give me that boy now!"

The monk clasped his hands together before responding, "Unfortunately, my Buddha of mercy prevents me from fulfilling your request. This old monk must not give this child to you."

"Stupid bald-head! You want to die."

As the darkness spoke, a red light began to flash. The energy and spirits of the dead began to flood the temple. The monk, knowing what the technique was turned angry.

"Poison Blood Banner!" He shouted, "Animal! Demon! You practice such an unnatural technique; I must not let you go!"

The darkness did not respond to the insults aside from a chilling laugh. The skies turned red and the acrid stench of blood saturated the air. A large magical seal, two meters in diameter appeared from the cloud of darkness. The howling of the wind was replaced with the wailing moans of the dead; the clap of thunder replaced with the sound of crushing bones.

"Die for your impudence, bald-head!" The darkness shouted. A ghostly face began to emerge from the magical seal. A demonic face with three horns, four eyes, pointed teeth with fangs fully manifested within a couple of seconds. The wails of the dead increased to an almost deafening volume.

When it had fully manifested, a shout like the sound of thunder came from the darkness and the apparition solidified. It's four eyes opened to cry tears of blood. Its visage caught in perpetual horror, uttering a demented wail. The souls of the dead that made up the apparition seeking for its own release from the hell they had been dragged into.

Seeing the technique performed, the monk only grew more and more angry. The stronger the technique performed by a user of the Poison Blood Banner, the more sacrifices in both blood and souls were needed to power it. With the power that the man invested into the apparition, he was using the entirety of the village to fuel it.

This demon had no heart!

Even as the ghost got closer to the monk, he still didn't put JingYu down lest the man behind the darkness snatched him while he dealt with the technique. His right hand was occupied, securing the body of the body onto his shoulder. Using his left hand, he gently shook the Jade Prayer Beads causing them to release a soft golden light. He drew in a circle in the air in front of him, forming the Mark of the Lion. Gold light flashed from his fingertips and then he gave the rosary another shake.

A golden wheel appeared, large enough to block the ghost the man shrouded in darkness conjured.

"If all you have if this little trick, then…" The monk didn't get to finish his sentence as he felt his right arm get bitten by something. Immediately, his body became numb with paralysis and his eyes dimmed. The golden wheel in the sky blocking the ghost faltered for a second, it would break any second now.

The ghost, tired of the stalemate with the wheel, let off an unholy moan as its forehead split in half. A large fifth eye emerged from the gap and left the main body, smashing into the golden wheel, destroying it and colliding with the monk's chest.

The old monk was thrown back into the temple, JingYu dropped to the ground behind some rubble. The monk's ribs broke as he crashed into the wall with enough force to collapse it.

With a wild laugh from the darkness above; the ghostly apparition dissipated.

The old monk stood up from the rubble around him, blood spouted out from his mouth and dyed the remains of his cassock crimson. The portion of his chest that ghost struck was charred black and letting off vile black fog. The poison, in addition, was already circulating throughout his body and fast approaching is heart.

He looked at the body of JingYu on the ground and he saw a colorful centipede come out from under his clothes. It was the size of one's palm with seven uniquely color tails. A creature equally beautiful and horrifying.

"Seven Tails Centipede!" The monk let out in a low groan.

The fog coming from his chest wound intensified, blood kept flowing from his mouth like a river. It seemed like he was going to collapse but his will alone kept him standing.

The old monk looked up towards the circling black fog, "You hid that rare poison with the boy and waited, hiding your strength, finding the right time to attack me. You're after my life, aren't you?"

"As expected of one of TianYin's Four Divine Monks! You are correct." A cold laugh came from the darkness as it began to monologue. "It is not easy to face your TianYin skills, PuZhi, even for a cultivated Mo such as myself. Yet, I'm not without mercy. The boy is quite tempting no? He has such great spiritual potential; it would be a waste to snuff it out. Give me the Sinister Orb; I will grant you your life by giving you the antidote to the poison that ravages your body."

PuZhi smiled, "It's a shame that my name means wisdom then." His face grew serious. "Besides, I cannot stand the thought of you practicing Poison Blood Banner. How many have you killed just to power that spell. It would be against my name to even consider giving you the Sinister Orb!"

A mad laugh escaped from the clouds. "If that is your answer, then go see your Buddha!" The ghost that dissipated prior had reemerged. Its target was already known and it had already tasted its flesh. With a demented wail, it rushed towards the old monk.

Despite his poisoning, PuZhi was still a cultivated monk. His tattered cassock billowed without the wind. His body still stood proudly despite his injuries and seemed larger than before. His left hand, filled with Fu energy, broke the string of the Jade Prayer Beads. The beads flew in front of PuZhi, glowing a soft gold with the sole exception of the dull purple orb which fell straight to the ground.

Yet, PuZhi's hand turned and grabbed the falling orb, pocketing it in the rags that his cassock had become. His hand then fell into place forming the Vase Seal. His entire body seemed to shine with golden light.

"Yan, Ma, Ne, Ba, Mi, Mou! Six Words Incantation!" The monk shouted. Upon finishing the incantation, the ghost had halted its advance. The holy energies radiating from the prayer beads froze it mid-air. The divine energy prevented such evil from making contact with the monk.

Although he blocked it, it was with considerable strain upon his weakened body. His body shook and he fell back a little. The poison of the Seven Tails Centipede was the most powerful. Even with a hundred years of Fu practice to reinforce his body it was still difficult to defend against.

Despite the grim situation, a smile appeared on his face.

"Dai!" The monk roared and a prayer bead broke into pieces. He thrust the bead forward, it had become a lance of light from being shattered. The energy it once contained no longer having a body, it was seeking to be used.

The darkness above cold only curse at this development.

Yet, before he could do anything about it, the monk had already destroyed another seven or eight prayer beads and turned them into weaponized light. He hurled them at the ghost before the man in the dark fog could do anything to supplement his creation.

When the last lance of light made contact with the ghost construct, it had fell apart. It splattered against the ground with a sickening squelch, the blood of its three-hundred victims pooled from its impact.

At the same time, PuZhi coughed out blood from his lungs. It had already turned black.

"You shitty bald-head!" Enraged the darkness above began to coalesce and solidify at the ground. A man shrouded in darkness emerged from the fog.

Both of their attention was quickly taken by a shout from the entrance of the temple.

PuZhi saw the boy, Shirou, he met earlier that day let out that unearthly scream.

The man of darkness only seemed amused by this. "Ho? This is an interesting development. Well, well, how will you salvage this? Ahh what a joyous occasion! One of TianYin's Four Divine Monks will die here today. Of course, I'll offer you one final time, the antidote for, for both you and the boy, in exchange for the Sinister Orb."

PuZhi's eyes began to leak black blood. "Even if I am to die here today, I must kill you, demon! The remainder of the prayer bead unused from the previous encounter flew towards the Mo.

The beads exploded and crackled against their target, bathing the surrounding area in soft green light. Yet, the mass of darkness was unaffected in the end. From the dense fog, a man strode forwards. A simple cloak, black as night, hid his features away from everyone. Only his red eyes were visible underneath the cloth. A sword was strapped onto the back of the garment.

"He, he," PuZhi chuckled, "Mister is so strong. Makes me wonder why you don't show your face."

The man ignored the monk and declared, "Bald-head, today I must kill you!"

He grabbed the blade from his back and slowly unsheathed it, pointing its tip towards the heavens. The blades gave off a soft light in contrast to the vicious atmosphere. It was luminescent, but still gentle to the eyes.

"Nice sword…"

The man ignored the monk again. He took seven steps forwards towards PuZhi, his sword pointing to the cloudy skies the entire time.

Rage of the nine skies, turn thyself into divine thunder.

"Thunderblade!" PuZhi's eyes widened in shock from the verse.

Might of heaven, fill my sword!

"You are from QingYun!" Cried the monk.

The skies grew darker if even possible and lightning began to arc to-and-fro, the beginnings of a huge storm began to roar.

It was midnight when the first clap of thunder was heard.

"Alright!" Came a muffled excited voice from Shirou, "Now to go find Mr. monk."

Fearing that the old monk would be cold and hungry in the dilapidated temple, Shirou had prepared some blankets and food for the old man. He couldn't deliver it during the day however, JingYu kept him away from the strange man and his parents would have noticed missing foods and blankets during the day.

Yet it was Shirou's charitable heart that could put simultaneously save him and put him in the greatest peril.

When he had finished his preparations, the sky was already red and the stench of blood had already taken over the entire village. The child's mind was frightened, yet for some strange reason, he was willing to abandon his survival instincts to deliver the small bundle to the monk.

In the distance, where Grasstemple was, he could see a ring of black fog circling the structure ominously. Flashes of golden and crimson light frequently forced him to squint. The child, now worried for the monk in more ways than before hurried towards the temple.

Yet, when he got there, he dropped the bundle for the monk and yelped in surprise at the scene.

The small sound was enough to get grab the attention of the Seven Tails Centipede. The creature launched at the boy with unnatural speed and bit.

This time, Shirou let out an earthshattering scream.

Yet, while the two combatants continued to duel, the poison of the Seven Tails Centipede continued to ravage Shirou, rather XiaoFan's, body. From this point, the natural course of events should be obvious. The toxin is not meant to be taken lightly, only with a hundred years of Fu training, a training that raises the body's vitality, was PuZhi able to survive the poison. Even still, the old monk is suffering greatly.

In another world XiaoFan wouldn't have gotten bitten by the centipede and his body wouldn't have to fight the poison. It was because he dropped the supplies meant for the old monk that the centipede first took note. Originally, XiaoFan would have simply screamed in shock at the scene, alerting both PuZhi and the centipede at the same time, allowing the monk to drive away the beast from the young boy in time.

Fortunately for XiaoFan, he was the reincarnation of one Emiya Shirou. Whereas other versions of him would never access this heritage over innumerous timelines, the poison from the Seven Tails Centipede acted as a catalyst for the soul to transform. The soul of a hero was anything but normal. It would not stand to be snuffed out at such a tender age when its previous incarnation had died so gloriously on his own terms.

Thus, if the body was inhibiting this, then the soul would simply discard the body.

His hair was the first to change. Originally XiaoFan had silky black hair. The color lightened and the strands began to clump until it turned into a messy auburn mop. His eyes, changed from dark brown to golden pools, so intense that they looked like molten gold. The facial structure didn't require any modifications as it was essentially the same as the previous incarnation.

However, the soul realized that the body of XiaoFan possessed no magical circuits. Given the body was still young and the abundance of mana saturating the air for the soul to work with, it simply willed them into existence. Fifty magical circuits of divine quality were granted to the young boy, twice the number he had in his previous life and all of a vastly superior quality.

His magical element and origin were shifted. XiaoFan was original aligned with metal more than anything else and his origin had yet to be defined in his life. The soul simply used Emiya Shirou as a template for it to fill. With an abundance of high-quality magical circuits, they would be able to far exceed the accomplishments of the previous incarnation. Unlimited Blade Works was unlocked for the boy however, he would have to rediscover its secrets himself.

Lastly, using the remain energy that it could, the soul purged all anomalies from the body of its host. Minor imperfections and diseases were erased from its existence. Organs ravaged by poison were repaired instantaneously and muscles atrophied for like reasons found themselves healthy and strong.

With its work done, the soul had gifted Emiya Shirou a body worthy of a hero. The existence known as Zhang XiaoFan couldn't adequately describe him anymore. Rather, it was more of Emiya Shirou in both appearance and spirituality alone. The only aspect that remained of XiaoFan was his personality and mind.

Whist the soul would have liked to gift its new body with all the knowledge its previous incarnation had accumulated, doing so would have likely killed the boy and rendered the entire ordeal it had underwent moot.

In the world of cultivation, intense, deep meditation is a normal activity in order to further one's spiritual cultivation. In this meditation, the reawaken Shirou would slowly rediscover his talents as his new body and mind would allow.

The clash between PuZhi and the mysterious cloaked man didn't stop for Emiya Shirou's reincarnation. Rather it been taken to another level.

Thunderblade was the pinnacle of QingYun magical technique. It summoned a celestial thunderstorm overhead and redirected a bolt of pure natural lightning into ones Esper. It was the reason why so many QingYun used swords as their Espers, such a conduit allowed for both easy gathering and usage of the energy.

Yet, most of these members would never be able to obtain Thunderblade. The user must have achieved a high level of spiritual cultivation and understanding of the mystical realm to even attempt to perform the technique. If a spiritual initiate attempted to perform it, he would either be met with nothing if he was lucky enough to be completely inept or the insides of his body rupturing in response to the drain in energy.

As the clouds continued to the gather and the QingYun man's blade began to create an electric blue shell, the implications of such a technique were not lost on PuZhi. To perform Thunderblade was a miracle in itself. Even if a QingYun disciple had one, or two, thousand years to practice their cultivation, it wouldn't matter in the end as they would still not obtain the base requirements for such a technique. Thus, the person in front of him, the one who wanted him dead, must have been a high-ranking member of QingYun.

QingYun had a traitor in its upper echelon.

With a loud clap of thunder, the shock of which made PuZhi's ears buzz, a streak of lightning shot down from the heavens; coming down into the earth and falling on to the tip of the Mo's sword.

At that very moment, the man in black body swelled. His eyes, snapped open as if he was about to burst with divine energy, the very orbs replaced with the same divine lightning that raced down onto the sword. The entirety of Grasstemple was no longer red and dreary due to a heretical technique and was bathed by a strong light almost as bright as dawn

Lightning now danced upon the edge of his sword in the night so beautiful that it would bring a normal person to rapture.

The man only released a loud bellow; his left hand pointed at the Buddhist Monk, giving the wild technique a target. With a single swing of the sword, a crescent of lightning rushed towards the monk, obliterating anything in its path and only leaving a trail of scorched each behind it.

PuZhi for his credit did not panic. He had only seen and heard of the legendary Dao technique and never fought against it. Since he was of the Fu sect, he was not privy to the secrets of the other.

He took three steps backwards and removed the last bits of his tattered cassock off of his body. The old monk clasped both his palms together. His body began to light up with the same golden light as before, but now it was noticeably weaker.

"Buddha of Compassion!" PuZhi declared solemnly.

The remaining prayer beads still in PuZhi's possession shattered. Together, the divine light originating from each of them formed a shield against the mysterious man's Thunderblade technique.

The next moment, the two clashed in full.

The remains of Grasstemple behind PuZhi exploded and fell apart.

The wind stopped, thunder silenced, the entire world seemed to come to a standstill to the clash of power. Despite his experience and power, PuZhi was still weakened by the poison. He also didn't have enough prayer beads when casting the technique to match or overpower it. The stalemate would ultimately end in his loss.

Yet, the thought of two young boys depending on his survival fueled him to continue. The rest of the villagers were most likely dead, the Poison Blood Banner having feasted on their life-force. Thus, the thought of the last two boys behind him perishing was sacrilegious. His body, fueled by the desire to protect the boys found the last vestiges of strength that PuZhi gladly fed into his technique.

With a roar from the monk, the technique overcame the Thunderblade from the traitorous QingYun. The arc of golden light that acted as a shield raced towards the cloaked man. There was not enough time to prepare another Thunderblade to defend again the wave.

Yet, it would turn out that the man wouldn't have had to conjure another. A ripple in space appeared over his visage and the black fog swirled into the aberration. A mad glint in the figure's eyes was the last thing that PuZhi saw before the anomaly closed and the man was gone from Grasstemple.

The old monk let out a heavy sigh as he took a brief respite from the battle.

PuZhi slowly walked over with shaky steps towards Shirou. However, the boy's new appearance caused a brief bit of confusion. In order to confirm that it was indeed the same boy, the monk once again peered into his soul

Just like the day prior, he was utterly enchanted by the contents of the young boy's soul, though, this time it did seem duller. His previous analysis the other day on the spiritual potential of the boy would also have to corrected. It would appear that his potential was now even greater than that of JingYu!

'Remarkable,' he thought to himself.

The old monk grabbed the prone body of Shirou and carried him over to a slightly cleaner area of the collapsed temple. He also moved the body of JingYu.

Placing the two children on the ground, he felt a pain in his body, as if two halves were splitting. In his weakened and tired state, he was no longer able to cope with the pain and he too collapsed onto the temple floor next to the two unconscious boys.

He inspected his chest; his torn and charred cassock had been discarded long ago in the battle. He could see the spiderweb like network of veins on his body, all of which were pitch black and pointing towards the single spot unaffected, his heart.

A wry smile slowly arose on his face. He reached into a pouch clasped onto his pants. He hand was trembling, moving shakily and erratically and thus the process was slow. Eventually though, he was able to withdraw a red pill no larger than the size of a fingertip.

With only a brief, fleeting moment of hesitation, he slowly and carefully brought his shaking hand to his mouth and swallowed the pill.

PuZhi sighted and whispered to himself, "Hard to believe that Dr. Go was right. I still had to take his "Three Days from Death" pill at the very end."

A soft rain began to fall.

It was as if the heavens were weeping.

"Dao medicine in this form is amazing." PuZhi muttered to himself. "Such godly power. Perhaps if it was used with my Fu teachings, I would have been able to discern the secret of immortality."

A long sigh ran through the monk's body. "It's a shame that Master Dao XuanZhen's faction is stronger than my own. My other three shixiongs can't put aside their differences and cooperate. A real tragedy."

PuZhi look back towards the two children still unconscious, sleeping on the floor of the temple remains. The rain was gradually getting stronger and wind began to rise, and wet their hair and faces. The temple had already been on its last legs, but now, it was utterly destroyed. There was no nearby place around to block the storm.

His mind grew taut with concern. In the end, he couldn't help but be concerned for the two children. He had been forced to use his spiritual energy in conjunction with the remainder of the Buddhist treasure Jade Prayer Beads in order to erect to barrier with strong anti-Mo properties in order to block that man's Thunderblade.

In the end, it didn't matter, the man had disappeared into a void.

Regardless if the other man lived or not, PuZhi was badly injured and poisoned to the extent that he couldn't even entertain the thought of survival.

"That devil, even if he was injured, will come back to kill the witnesses. I fear that all of the village peoples' lives will be at risk."

PuZhi's mind was growing confused. "This… What should I do?"

Although he was very intelligent and knowledgeable, the burdens on his body and mind slowed down his thought. He found himself worrying about the lives of innocent people; however, the man he had fought had performed Thunderblade and thus had a high status in QingYun. He couldn't simply rush up the mountain and ask for help, the one who came here today would simply finish what he started.

In his mind, the situation had no clear path. It was truly regrettable. Yet, there was a larger regret that weight upon his heart, a task that he and those before him wished to see completed. He was one of TianYin's Four Divine Monks, admired by the world, honored by others. To him, the titles were just decorations, he was most interested in the riddle behind life and death, untying the knot of immortality.

Yet, fifty years ago he had come to a conclusion. His Fu teachings only enhanced his body and the skill of his practice; he could not solve the riddle of life and death with Fu alone.

The next decades he had pondered the development in earnest. Today, the Fu along with Dao and Mo reign as the most prosperous three religious sects and were deeply seated in magic and spiritualism. The Mo had developed a bad reputation, employing an excuse of the ends justifying the means to justify their cruel and sadistic methods.

However, the Dao sect was the counterpart to Fu teachings. Its intensive training and wonderous skill when combined with Fu teachings might have been able to break the dead-knot.

But such a radical prospect had never been pursued, he had always been open-minded compared to the rest of the world. His shixiongs said that it was heretical, evil in nature. The Dao were no better. He had visited QingYun alone many times, yet, Master Dao XuanZhen always rebuffed him.

'There are only a handful of hours left to live now, what use is there wanting to live forever?' The self-deprecating thought arose along with a wry smile on his face.

PuZhi picked up the two children still laying on the ground, on hefted over each of his shoulders. In the distance, he saw a pine tree that could block a little wind and rain. While nothing of note, it was better than nothing and certainly better than remaining in the crumbling temple. With effort, he was able to transport the children there.

He managed to persevere until he came to stand under tree. He carefully placed the two children down on the grass beneath the pine. PuZhi, exhausted, suddenly sat down and gasped for breath.

He looked at the sky, dark as ink, covering the world and recoiled at the sight. The dark clouds grew lower to the earth, bringing their cold rain that chilled a man to his heart. He looked back at the two children.

"Young ones, this old monk really wants to help, but his strength is leaving him. Everything happened because of me, but the harm came to you two as well."

He let out a sigh and continued, "If you were QingYun disciples, at the mount among the rest of those people, it should be safer, but now…"

Suddenly, PuZhi's mouth dropped open, shocked. In his mind, the words "QingYun disciple" repeated over and over again in his mind. His mind, addled with poison had difficulty full formulating his thoughts still and after a few moments his whole body began to sweat.

Then, within his eyes, for an unknown reason, excitement and madness began to appear again.

He let out a mad laugh, his sorrows and self-deprecation could be heard in the cry.

"Amazing, it's all so clear now!" He turned back to the boys "Even if I am to die soon, if I pass one of them my Fu teachings and then place them in QingYun to practice Dao, I would be able to save their lives and still complete my wish!"

His mind was invigorated and settled on the task; his very existence was excited.

This must have been the purpose he was granted by the gods! He turned towards Shirou's unconscious body. Both of the boys possessed substantial spiritual potential, but PuZhi was ultimately drawn to Shirou's soul. The soul of a hero would only compound upon his teaching and hopefully make the path clearer and well defined. Not only that, but the boy far exceeded JingYu's potential now as well!

With his past life he gleamed from observing the boy's soul, he was confident that the young boy could hide the practice. The factional and religious differences today were very important. If one were to learn secret techniques behind one's master, that pupil would be sentenced to death most definitely. While there was nothing wrong with JingYu spiritually, he simply had faith in the prior experience of a reincarnated soul to keep the secret better.

Firmly resolved in his decision now, PuZhi did not hesitate. He reached out towards Shirou and placed two fingers upon his forehead. Using the last of his strength, he woke the boy up.

When Shirou woke up, his eyes were blurred and his ears were ringing. It took a few moments for him to regain his sight. For some strange reason, his eyesight seemed better, sharper than earlier in the day.

PuZhi was sitting in front of boy watching the last vestiges of unconsciousness leave his form. Shirou took in his wounded form. The monk's left side was completely burdened, the skin charred black and ugly. His face had a heavy, dark air about him as if he was on his death bed. His chest was a spiderweb of blackened veins the only sanctuary not breached was his heart. A smoldering crater could be seen in the center of his chest, blackened and spewing a foul black fog into the air.

Yet despite all the pain that PuZhi was in, he was smiling.

JingYu was still unconscious next to Shirou. The old monk looked deathly tired, as if he couldn't take a single step. It was mostly likely why only he was woken up.

"Who are you?" Shirou asked again, it would be the third time he asked the question.

It would also be the third time he was ignored. The monk just continued to smile.

Finally, after catching his breath PuZhi began "Young boy, it was dark and stormy outside. Why did you come to the temple?"

Shirou could only fidget, slightly annoyed that his question was ignored again.

"I saw you standing at the temple at dusk," The boy began, "I knew it was going to rain later and that the temple was in poor repair. I thought that it would be cold, so I came to give you something to eat and keep you warm."

The monk's lips curled up into a larger smile at my response. Placing his palms together he replied, "Good, good. You're spirit shines beautifully. All things are destined to be, my Buddha of compassion."

Shirou only stared at the monk in confusion.

PuZhi noticing this, let out a small laugh, "This old monk thinks that it was destiny, fate, for us to meet. If that is so, then this old man practices a special set of incantations, perhaps you would be willing to learn?"

Little did the monk know about Shirou's ambition to become a hero of justice.

The lightshow that was the battle between PuZhi and the traitorous QingYun had inspired the young boy. Before, he had only dreamed of wielding such power or heard about it from his parents. Now an opportunity to learn how to wield it himself had come; he was not going to refuse it.

"What is an incantation?" Yet, his mind was still of a ten-year old, there were a good many things he still did not understand.

PuZhi seemed surprised at Shirou's puzzlement, but he reminded himself that he was but a ten-year old boy who had lived in the country his entire life. The monk let out a laugh despite his failing body.

He stretched out his bony hands and managed to touch Shirou's forehead and said, "It's nothing complicated, I'm just going to teach you some breathing methods. I don't have the time for much more."

Shirou nodded, the monk seemed to be in pain from simply breathing.

PuZhi's face grew rather serious and he leaned forward. "After you learn them, I need you to promise me a few things, okay?"

The child's mind couldn't properly grasp the severity of the situation and he hesitantly nodded and said, "Say them."

The monk's face grew solemn, "You must never talk about this to anyone else, even to your relatives or your closest friends you cannot speak of this. Can you do this?"

Shirou gave a nod in response, "I understand. Even under the threat of death, I'll keep the secret to my grave."

"Such a serious young boy…" The monk took a deep breath, closed his eyes and continued. "In addition, you must practice what I give you every day, you cannot practice this in front of people for that would reveal your secret, only do so in the middle of the night when no one is nearby. Finally, if your life is not in danger, you cannot use this practice. If you do, there will be trouble."

Here, he opened his eyes and stared at the boy, "Can you do this?"

The boy's response was a hesitant nod and PuZhi smiled. To show hesitance in this regard was better than an immediate response.

With this, he began to pass a set of Fu phrases to Shirou.

The passage was not very long, only about a thousand in total. They its phrases were however difficult to comprehend and rather steeped in meaning. Shirou, completely enraptured by the monk's lesson absorbed the information he was fed like a sponge. Within the span of an hour, he had already committed the first lesson to heart.

PuZhi gave a sigh of relief and looked extremely tired. A compassionate tint made its way into his eyes as he continued to look at his new pupil.

"You know, this old monk has never taken a disciple before today. And now, at the edge of death, I welcome my very first to my family." The monk said wistfully.

At this, he let a rather loud laugh escape.

"Say, if you are to be my disciple, you should know my name." He started to sit up straight again. "I am known as PuZhi, a TianYin monk. Uh… child, do you know what TianYin Temple is?"

I shook my head.

PuZhi laughed, "Even though the soul is old, the body is but a child."

Then, he remembered something. Finding the remains of his ruined cassock, he then fished out a deep purple orb, looked at it a few more times, and then gave it to his new disciple.

"Take this bead and hide it. Let no outsider see it. Once you get settled down into a new home, find a cliff and throw it away." A frown managed to make its way onto PuZhi's face. "Also, the name I just revealed to you. You must not talk to anyone about it."

Shirou took the bead and replied, "Understood."

"You and I… We share a fated bond. Perhaps in the next life we will meet at the end." The monk muttered to himself.

To Shirou he said, "I sincerely hope that you can do what I was unable to, my first and only disciple…"

PuZhi placed two fingers on the boy's forehead and sent him to the realm of unconsciousness.

In the morning, following the blood thirsty storm, the rain had finally stopped.

The rain drops on the tree were crystal clear, slipping quietly from the edge of the leaves; dropping down, they made a beautiful arc in the air and landed right upon Shirou's sleeping face.

The icy coldness woke Shirou up, he opened his eyes and unconsciously cried out, "Master". Yet, there was no one nearby who could be his master, PuZhi. There was only his best friend, JingYu asleep beside him.

The previous night had seemed like a dream.

But, judging from the completely devastated Grasstemple in the distance and his sleeping friend, he knew that the events were real.

Shirou started thinking for a moment about where his master may have gone but quickly shook his head and went to JingYu's side and shove him hard. JingYu muttered a few words and slowly woke up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and, before he could even say a single word, felt a chill hit and couldn't help but sneeze.

His eyes opened and he seemed surprised to find himself and Shirou wet, resting underneath a pine tree. He couldn't help but be stunned and question to himself, "Didn't I sleep at home last night? How did I get here?"

It was then that JingYu noticed Shirou's new appearance.

"XiaoFan?" JingYu began, "Is that you?"

"Hmm? What question is that? Of course, I am me!"

"It's just that XiaoFan looked very different from yesterday."

Puzzled, the two boys found a puddle of water from the storm yesterday. The water was clean enough that it could reflect one's appearance back.

Shirou peered into the puddle. Gone were the facial features of XiaoFan. Yet for some reason, the new features he was granted in exchange didn't feel foreign, rather even more natural than his old ones had been.

"Isn't it odd?" JingYu asked.

"Of course, it is. I don't know how, though, it's not very relevant."

A moment of silence was shared between the two boys.

"Come, I am very cold. Let's go back quickly." Shirou said, breaking the silence.

JingYu had all sorts of questions still plaguing his mind, but, as his friend had said, it was quite cold out. Immediately he got up and ran back to the village gates with Shirou.

Upon arriving at the village area, the two boys find that things were not quite right. Usually by this time of day, the villagers should all be up and going about their daily routines. Today, however, was extremely quiet, one couldn't hear the cries of children or adults shouting. The morning breeze carried a faint bloody smell in the air.

The two looked at each other, seeing surprise in each other's eyes and quickened their pace back towards the village.

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at the village entrance and take in the grisly sight. The ground of the village was covered in blood, the very earth itself dyed a horrid shade of red and black. Yet, the blood had to come from somewhere.

Atop the saturated ground more than forty families of Grasstemple village, over two hundred people, old and young, men and women, were strewn about the ground. Their bodies stiffened into corpses and slightly bloated from the downpour from yesterday. Rivers of blood flowed from the cadavers, attracting flies with the feculent smell of decay and blood.

Shirou and JingYu, surprised to see such a horrible sight, out of shock, screamed and fainted.

After an unknown span of time, Shirou awoke and suddenly sat up panting, his hands trembling slightly. After he had fainted, he was haunted with faces of evil, bloody bones of the dead, nightmares from the horrible scene that he had witnessed.

He eventually calmed down and took in his new surroundings. It was a small room with two small windows. The furnishings were simple and clean, only a few pine tables and chairs, a kettle and some cups.

Half of the room was taken up by four beds. Aside from the one that he had woke up in, the bed next to him was slightly messy as if someone had just been sleeping. The other two were neat with quilts meticulously stacked atop.

Above each of the four beds, on the walls, hung a banner that read in large print, 'Dao!'

The room was a room for Dao disciples.

Shirou sat for a while. Suddenly, his heart couldn't but help entertain some hope. Perhaps the entirety of what he had witnessed was a nightmare? Perhaps he had been sleeping the entire time? Perhaps outside of this room, his mother was waiting to scold him for sleeping so late?

He slowly got out of bed, put on shoes, and step by step went over to the door.

He opened the door and the bright light from outdoor suddenly flood in and caused his eyes to narrow. The sun shined on his body giving a touch of warmth.

Yet, his heart had turned into ice.

Outside the door there was a small courtyard with collection of trees - pine and cypress - brush and flowers. There was a corridor leading to the outside of the courtyard. A few steps attaching both the courtyard and corridor were a few feet away from the door.

At the corner of the steps, sat a lonely child with his hand holding his cheek, still as a statue.

Perhaps the door opening disturbed him. The child hesitated, but then slowly turned.

JingYu.

It wasn't nightmare, it had all been real.

There were too many things that Shirou wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words properly.

JingYu could only give a small wry smile.

The two children, just like that, silently stared each other in the eye.

Shirou had sat down on the steps on the other side of the courtyard, head down, staring at the stones that made up the courtyard's trail.

The silence in the small courtyard was deafening.

After a long time, JingYu said slowly, "I woke up earlier than you, there were several people in the room. I asked them where we were; Mount QingYun, Peak of the Widow.

"Mount QingYun," whispered Shirou.

"Listen, they said that a few QingYun disciples were passing by and saw the village, the village…" JingYu's voice couldn't help but choke up

He firmly rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "They… they said they found us in the village an brought us to the mountains."

Shirou's mouth moved a little, but he still kept his head down and asked, "What are we going to do, JingYu?"

His friend could only shake his head sadly and said, "I don't know."

Shirou still wanted to talk, unwilling to go back to the silence so quickly. However, an unfamiliar voice suddenly intervened from behind

"Ah, you both have woken up?"

They both looked back at the same time and saw a young Taoist standing there dressed in blue robes – a quite handsome individual.

He trotted over and said, "Master would like to see you, he has some questions for you. Come with me."

Shirou and JingYu looked at each other and stood up.

"Yes, big brother, please lead us." Said JingYu.

The young Taoist looked at him and nodded his head and said, "Come with me."

Following the Taoist, the left the courtyard. There was a much longer corridor in front of them now. Every twenty feet there laid a red pillar and between each set of pillars was an archway. Following along the corridor, the found almost identical courtyard structures where he QingYun disciples would live.

The corridor was long and thus it took a while to get to the end. When they reach it, massive white walls and two large wooden doors made from thick slabs of wood came into sight.

The young Taoist didn't say anything, it was probably a daily sight for him unlike the two children.

And when the doors opened, an almost legendary wonderland greeted them.

At the center was a very large square. The ground was all paved with shining white marble that reflected the warm rays of the sun. In the distance, there were puffy white clouds that seemed to coat the area like a veil, some of which were actually passing underfoot. In the center of the square stood a giant incense burner every couple of hundred of feet. There were three rows and three columns. The smoke from the burning incense was clear and didn't scatter in the air.

The Taoist seemed to understand the minds of the two children and allowed them to gaze for a moment before waking them from their revelry.

"This is one of QingYun's Six Treasures, the 'Cloud Sea'" The Taoist explained, "Come this way, there are better things up ahead."

Shirou couldn't help but inquire, "What?"

The young priest smiled and pointed, "Rainbow Bridge."

The two children looked over, and, in the distance at the end of square, behind hazy mist and clouds, they saw something shiny. They sped up their pace and traveled forward.

They began to hear the sound of running water followed by a few strange sounds reminiscent of thunder.

As the grew closer and closer, the veil of clouds obscuring their view, gently lifted and revealed the structure clearly.

A stone bridge was placed at the end of the central square. The bridge kept ascending like a dragon in the sky. The trickling of water along the side made the bridge shine with the colors of the rainbow under the sunlight.

Both Shirou and JingYu were staring.

"Be careful," their guide warned, "If you accidently fall down, you'll end up in a bottomless abyss, there won't even be a body to bury."

His words spooked both children, but they calmed themselves and walked carefully across the bridge, following the footsteps of the Taoist.

The Rainbow Bridge was extremely long and high. As the three of them continued to walk along it, they felt the clouds begin to sink underfoot. As they went higher and higher, the sound of rumbling thunder grew louder.

After walking for a while, the clouds gradually become thinner. They eventually moved out of the clouds completely and saw a blue sky stretching infinitely wide, the clouds themselves fully under their feet.

It is atop this peak, the higher peak of the Peak of the Widow, QingYun's main hall, Crystal Hall, is located.

The three got off the Rainbow Bridge. There was a pool of green pond water, clear as a mirror that reflected the shadows of the nearby mountains.

They walked towards the stone steps to the hall and were about to walk towards the door. Suddenly, a roar arose from deep within the pond, the sound of thunder rumbled in each of the boy's ears. They had found the source of the noise.

Their guide had taken precautions for this, but there was no way for the two children to escape it. Their bodies were splashed with pond water.

But they were too busy starting at the giant in front of them to care about their own situation. It was about five yards high, with the head of a dragon and the body of a lion, covered in scale. Its giant eyes and large mouth housing two sharp fangs shining in the sun would be frightening to anyone.

The monster shook itself and another spray reached the boys. Then the giants head stretched over as if it had found something.

The boys, now with the monsters head directly in front of them noticed how much larger it was compared to them. With the sunlight, the sharp teeth were clearly visible protruding from its mouth. They couldn't help but be frightened and hold each other tightly for support while their hearts hammered wildly.

At this time, the Taoist placed a single hand in front of his chest and respectfully said, "Mister Spirit, Master specifically summoned them."

The monster glared down at him and snapped his fangs. His big eyes rolled as he pondered the situation. Coming to a conclusion, he ignored the three and walked to the side and laid down on the dry ground beside the pool. Letting out a massive yawn, it placed down its head lazily on its front paws and fell asleep under the sun.

The young Taoist motioned for the two shocked children to continue walking and explained, "Mister Spirit in an ancient animal tamed by our faction leader Master QinYe a thousand years ago, called the Water Kirin. In that year Master QinYe expanded QingYun and slew evil, Water Kirin also helped us a lot. Now he is the mountain's protector and people call him Mister Spirit.

Finished speaking the Taoist gave a bow to the Water Kirin. Both Shirou and JingYu followed his example and respectfully bowed. The Water Kirin itself didn't notice; it let a loud snoring sound from his nose.

After completing their salute, the tree of them moved on towards Crystal Hall. Arriving in front of the might hall, the doors swing wide open and revealed a well-lit interior housing statues of previous QingYun saints and masters.

In front of these statues, dozens of people stand in the hall of all of who were QingYun. Following the statues were seven large ebony chairs, three on each side with the center chair sitting back above all. Each represented one of the QingYun factions, however, only six out of the seven leaders were sitting there.

The last chair at front right, was empty.

A/N: So after reading Zhu Xian, I was inspired to attempt at writing something myself.

I found a lot of similarities between Shirou and XiaoFan and the world of Zhu Xian all together.

- XiaoFan starts as a hopeless lost cause, but through some lucky breaks he is able to become one of the most important mystical figures

- XiaoFan has Anan and Bilu fighting over him like Shirou has his complicated romance

- Espers fit pretty well with Noble Phantasms or mystic codes

- XiaoFan is really good at cooking

Aside from these and other similarities, the book always entertains morality. If Shirou wants to be a quote - "Hero of Justice" - then he must understand what justice is. I hope I made it clear that currently his sense of justice is rather juvenile and he views everything as black and white.

At the very beginning, Xiao Fan is not very at all like the Shirou we know from Fate. I hope I explained it well why this is the case, but as we enter the next chapter, he will develop more traits from Fate.

If Shirou does view himself as an ally of justice, then what is justice? If he views himself as a tool, then is he a tool for evil or good? These are the concepts I hope to explore and it will most likely begin at least a little bit in the next chapter. Unfortunately, the only thing that really differs here from the book aside from Shirou is that Xiao Fan got bitten by the centipede.

Next chapter he will study three schools of magic, Dao, Fu and magecraft (wow that's awkward to write after the other two)

Basically that how this started. Please leave some feedback if you made it this far!