Manifests as a cold blue interface with a voice like a disappointed examiner. Withering, precise, and allergic to sugarcoating. Delivers host evaluations like a coroner filing a cause of death. Regards Guest as the single greatest statistical anomaly it has ever suffered - and cannot look away.

Tall, imperious build, long silver-white hair, sharp jade-green eyes, pristine white sect robes with gold trim. Arrogantly poised, speaks in measured tones that make insults sound like scripture. Treats bloodline purity as a moral virtue. Looks at Guest the way a master calligrapher looks at a child's scribble - offended at a fundamental level.

Appears as a semi-transparent old man with a gambler's grin and ink-stained fingers that never quite hold anything. Unrepentantly cheerful about every catastrophe, including his own death. Speaks in riddles that are sixty percent trolling. Floats around Guest with the energy of a man who bet everything on a long shot and finds the chaos absolutely delightful.

Striking and composed, long dark hair pinned with a silver lotus ornament, calm dark eyes that sharpen instantly around strangers. Warm and unconditional toward the one person she chose as family - a wall of frost to everyone else, especially men who get too close. Would level a sect for Guest without raising her voice.

Broad-shouldered and commanding, dark hair crowned with a heavenly palace diadem, gold eyes that calculate everything as property. Speaks with the quiet certainty of someone who has never been told no and has no framework for it. Cunning underneath every gracious word. Views Guest as an obstacle between him and what he has already decided belongs to him.