Story
A Nethermancer from Mengzhou. An explorer wandering amid Mirage Realms and forgotten ruins. With his own eyes, he beholds the world's lingering echoes and the ancient traces it left behind. He follows no sect and bows to no doctrine, heeding neither gods nor decrees. Through Mirage Realms and shadowed lands he walks, judging right from wrong by his own heart alone, and in doing so, he has forged a path entirely his own.
[Forte Examination Report RA1169-G] The subject's Tacet Mark is located on the right eye and enables perception of discrete frequencies beyond the standard detectable range. Once the subject's Resonance Energy output exceeds the threshold, the subject is able to construct an isolated field within physical space and force concealed frequencies to manifest. Frequencies of a high-order Remnant Creature are also detected around the left eye. Analysis has shown the subject and the Remnant Creature are capable of frequency anchoring, perception sharing, and directive transmission via this connection. Of note, the subject may temporarily enhance his degree of control over the Remnant Creature by expending his own life force. No signs of rejection have been observed during the examination period. However, the possibility of future complications—including perceptual abnormalities or accelerated vitality depletion—cannot be completely ruled out. Regular follow-up and long-term observation are therefore recommended. Analysis of test samples has revealed a bimodal distribution in the Rabelle's Curve, which classifies the subject as a Natural Resonator.
This jade pendant was a keepsake given to him the year he was born. The jade itself was nothing precious, and the craftsmanship unremarkable. In a corner of the pendant, two slender characters were carved: Jingran. His parents once gently tied the pendant to his swaddling clothes, gazing at their innocent child with eyes brimming with joy. "Thank goodness, you're finally here. Thank you for coming to this world." They gave him the name Ran, or "burn", in the hope that he'd blaze like wildfire that never truly dies. They wanted no life of fame or fortune for him. Their only wish was that he would burn on like a spark upon a grassland—unyielding and enduring. That even when cold nights closed in and the wind howled to break him, he would never bow to despair. Yet now, a distinct crack ran across the center of the white jade. Jingran traced the fracture with his fingertips, his face unreadable. The Lynx Spirit curled nearby seemed far less at ease, its tail flicking restlessly. After a long silence, it finally muttered under its breath: "Just a fine crack... and you're still hung up on it after all these years?"
A worn ledger, its dog-eared pages scrawled with records of monthly expenses: 3rd: Picked up a bronze mirror with a broken handle at the market. The vendor swore it once belonged to a Sentinel. Complete hogwash. The pattern caught my eye, though. Thirty Shell Credits. A bargain or a loss TBD. 5th: Still stuck in the Mirage Realm for the time being. Asked a courier to deliver some cash to the old lady—should be around two thousand. Packed along a packet of dried apricots for the little one. 7th: Bought three jin of plums. One jin for brewing, one jin for the lynx (little louse didn't even say thanks), and one jin for myself. 9th: Gambled on rough jade with the folks at the alley entrance. Lost sixty over nothing. 10th: Lost another forty. Damn. 12th: Received my share for the sales of "Mirage Seeker's Tales." Didn't they say it was flying off the shelves? How is it only five hundred? 18th: I won! Came out twenty Shells ahead in the raw jade gambling! Today's a good day. Bought a bowl of sweet fermented rice to celebrate. 15th: Replaced a window shutter for the shop. Cost twenty. Smashed by that limp-tailed cat. It's paying for it one of these days! Balance of This Month: Don't feel like doing the math. It'll just hurt once I see the number.
The original manuscript of "Mirage Seeker's Tales." The edges of the yellowed pages are curled, and the ink has begun to smudge. Most of what's recorded within are Jingran's encounters while traveling through the Mirage Realms—a deserted city where soaring opera melodies rise with the moon, a colossal tree buried deep beneath the earth that feeds on the passage of time, faceless performers who wander around with the entire stage set upon their backs... Sure enough, a fair amount of embellishment found its way in. Truth and fiction grew so tangled together that, at times, even the author himself couldn't be bothered to pull them apart. At first, these were nothing more than stories he told to entertain the children at the mouth of the alley. Then, one story after another, they added up to a full volume. His Shifu scoffed at the idea of writing these stories down. "A trip to the Mirage Realms beats anything written on paper." Yet one night, Jingran found the light in the old man's room still lit deep into the hours. He peered in and found his Shifu utterly absorbed in the manuscript, so engrossed that he didn't even notice someone standing at the doorway. The pages remain to this day. The one who once held them does not. Whenever Jingran comes across the manuscript, the same thought surfaces: if the old man is truly down there somewhere, bored out of his mind... would he read these stories over and over again? Jingran pushes the thought aside almost as soon as it appears. —Why bother? Pointless to dwell on it now.