[Young Master Xian]—❈—60:: 'Small D_ck Energy'

The Imperial Palace is exactly what you would expect if you know anything at all about cultivators.

If asked to describe it in one word, some people might choose ‘grand,’ or perhaps ‘expansive.’ Some might even say ‘beautiful.’

I pick ‘gaudy.’

In fact, if I was allowed to use more than one word, I would choose ‘small dick energy’. Because, regardless of the gender of its owner, that’s the energy the entire palace gives.

Everything about it: from the ridiculous size of its grounds; to the actual gold lampposts; to the Qi Realm cultivators working as streetsweepers; to The Empress’ ‘divine aura’ that sits over the Royal Estate like a weighted blanket, giving the feeling that she’s always there, watching your every move. All of them stand as clear markers of that most nasty of illnesses, small penis syndrome.

Like The Sunrise Empress is constantly screaming to the world, “Look, everyone. Look. I’m rich and powerful. Seriously. Look.”

She’s so obviously compensating that its almost sad to watch.

How much does this place cost in maintenance every week? Fifty thousand gold? A hundred? Now how much of a difference would that money make if it’s put into the mortal section of this city, even just once a year?

How many soup kitchens would fifty thousand gold fund for a week? How many orphanages? How many free clinics?

Xiuying’s former salary as Vice Commander of that outpost back in Silver Springs was ten thousand gold a year, and best I can tell, it was a good salary. For a mortal.

Enough to get you a good house, good food, basic comforts, maybe even care for a family if you’re good with money.

The income only becomes laughably inadequate when matters of cultivation come up.

For a soup kitchen serving cheap, mortal grub, how far would ten thousand gold go? How many children would it put clothes on their backs and give a decent bed to lay their heads on?

I stare out at my surroundings again, spotting a herd of actual freaking Pegasi grazing in a huge, open field rolling with lush beast rank grass for as far as the eyes can see.

I thought the Xian estate was bad with its ostentatious show of wealth. This makes that look like a Buddhist monastery.

The carriage we ride in, sleek coaches of gold frames, silk curtains, and leather upholstery, are pulled by griffins with cultivation levels higher than mine, and I find myself wondering if The Imperial Palace also has some sort of exotic zoo.

What the hell am I talking about? Of course it has an exotic zoo. If it doesn’t I’ll eat my shoe.

Mother and I sit alone within the carriage, while Meng Yi; Xiuying; the retainer Mother brought along, Wan Zhou, a sage rank well into the second phase of Qi Realm; and two Imperial aides with cultivations higher than that, walk alongside the carriage under the midday sun quietly.

I peep out the window at Meng Yi and Xiuying. They both seem to be under some strain, Meng Yi more than Xiuying, but they seem to be holding up okay.

I would feel better if they were in a carriage though.

The women aren’t under strain because they're walking. They’re cultivators, even at Meng Yi’s level I’m pretty sure she could run a marathon without much trouble. They’re under strain because of The Empress’ ‘divine aura’ pressing down on everyone and everything.

This aura is also why, as annoyed as the fact that they have to walk as some sort of status thing makes me, I say nothing about it.

Meng Yi spots me staring at her through the window, and she shoots me a small smile to show she’s alright.

I smile back, then look away and lean back into my seat.

Mother looks at me. The expression on her face is perfectly neutral, but I see the warning in her eyes all the same.

I roll my eyes at her. ‘I know,’ I think, but don’t say.

One has to be careful what one says within the grounds of the Royal Estate.

Mother had coached us all about it last night when preparing me for my meeting with The Empress today.

That ‘divine aura’ pressing against everyone and everything like a clingy ex isn’t simply an aura, it’s a sensory technique.

Mother suspects that it’s some sort of divine rank artefact that does it, as opposed to an innate cultivation ability, as no cultivator could possibly have the fine control to maintain that much awareness over this large an area, especially without their domain active.

Regardless of how she does it though, the fact remains that, within the vicinity of the Royal Estate, The Empress sees all, and she hears all.

I know, right? What a creep.

In light of this, it is customary that, within the Royal Estate, every word is watched, every expression measured, every act considered, for Feng Lingxian, Phoenix Deity and Heart of The Sunrise Empire, sees all, hears all, and knows all.

Working here must be hell.

Since the Sky Mirror, the river that flows through The Capital, does so at the middle, and the Royal Estate sits at the centre of the mostly circular city, the river also cuts through the Royal Estate.

At the heart of the round Royal Estate, suspended over the flowing, reflective surface of the Sky Mirror, sits the Imperial Palace proper, overly huge, pointlessly flashy, and without doubt the single biggest waste of resources I’ve ever personally laid eyes on.

At least it’s beautiful. Incredibly so. Too huge, yes; flashy, yes; wasteful, absolutely; but undeniably beautiful.

I actually wouldn’t mind having a picture of that hanging on my bedroom wall.

We disembark the carriage on land, and walk the bridge that leads to the actual doors of the palace.

The bridge is made of a rich, dark wood that emits sage rank qi, and I peep over the railing to see the reflection of its bottom in the reflective water of the Sky Mirror. There are gemstones under there, rubies, sapphires, amethysts and others, all arranged in vague, mysterious patterns.

They look good in the daylight, but I suspect that their beauty really shines at night.

Imperial servants welcome us at the door, bowing first, before leading us to an opulent parlour.

Mother and I sit.

Xiuying, Meng Yi, and Wan Zhou stand near the wall behind us.

Expensive tea is brought in, divine rank for Mother, and noble rank for me.

No one offers Meng Yi, Xiuying, or Wan Zhou tea.

The Imperial servants leave us then.

And then we wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Hours pass, servants coming in to refill our teapots without needing to be told.

And still we wait.

Mother says nothing. She does nothing. Simply sits and sips tea as it’s brought. Her Qi cycling gently and softly through her in an almost hypnotic rhythm.

Xiuying seems to have entered military mode; back ramrod straight, head forward, gaze unshakably focused on a point on the wall before her.

Wan Zhou seems similar. Gaze blank, posture comfortable and oddly graceful. He looks like he could wait ten more years.

Meng Yi has her eyes closed in focus. A light sheen of sweat on her brow, all of her attention set on getting through this, however long it turns out to be.

I, meanwhile, am losing my mind.

I know what’s happening here. It’s the classic power play. Invite a person over at a specific time you know they’ll do their best to meet, then keep them waiting for a while after they get there to teach them who’s boss.

So, yeah, I get it. But it’s one thing to keep a person waiting for five minutes, or even an hour, and it’s something else entirely to keep them waiting three.

The worst part is, the servants tending to us don’t even do the typical, “the boss will be with you shortly” thing. No. In fact, they don’t speak to us, at all, just provide tea.

Honestly, this has gone from a power play to just plain rude. Especially by cultivator standards.

Mother isn’t a beggar. She isn’t some low ranking official seeking an audience with The Empress.

I will admit that, yes, there’s a big gap between being the head of the Fiftieth Great Family and being The Empress of the Sunrise Empire, but the fact remains that Mother is the head of a Great Clan.

There is a reason why, short of being in the line of succession itself, the position of the Great Clans is the most sought after.

Mother is one of a very small handful of people who technically have the authority to simply show up to meet Her Divine Majesty, without needing to be summoned or even announce themselves beforehand.

Being kept waiting for hours, without explanation, for a meeting that The Empress herself called for... A point is being made here.

Politics is being played.

Heaven, I hate fucking politics.

Thinking about politics makes me think of the one politician I know. Or, at least, knew. And that makes me think about the song with which I sent him off.

And since I like the song, thinking about it makes me begin to sing it softly to myself.

The Sinatra version of that song is rather upbeat, but between the event that comes to mind when I think of the song, and the current situation, what I end up singing is a slower, more sombre version.

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars

“That isn’t of this plane,” Mother says.

I look at her. “The song? No,” I agree. “It’s from a different plane. The natives call it Earth.”

“Earth,” Mother tries out the, to her, unfamiliar word. Then, like a proper cultivator, she asks, “Are they powerful?”

I roll my eyes.

I understand what she’s really asking; ‘Are their cultivators more powerful than ours?’

“They are powerful,” I say. “But in a different way than we’re familiar with. They have no qi there, not enough to cultivate with anyway.”

“The people have no qi, or the plane itself has no qi?” Mother asks.

“The plane,” I clarify. “There are no Qi beasts, no Qi crops, no manuals and no cultivation. They have to use science and their wits to get things done.”

Seeing her expression, I answer her next question pre-emptively.

“Science is a system of understanding the world around you. In essence, you observe, measure, investigate, experiment, and record the results. Then you get someone who doesn’t like you to do the same thing.”

Mother raises an eyebrow.

“Someone who doesn’t like you is going to try to prove that this cool thing you figured out or discovered isn’t what you said it is, or doesn’t work how you think it does,” I explain.

“Making them the perfect person to confirm your findings,” Mother says in understanding.

“Bingo.”

“It is similar in alchemy,” she says. “Discoveries must be confirmed and substantiated by external parties. However, how do they protect the secrets of their discoveries if they let the method to attain them be known?” she asks.

“They don’t in a lot of cases,” I say. “Knowledge is mostly shared freely and without restriction in many places and situations.”

Now Mother looks truly amazed.

I laugh at her expression. “You need to remember, there is no cultivation in this world. Everyone is mortal. Most people don’t see a century of life, and even those who do will spend decades of it too young or too old to do much.

“It takes on average twenty years of learning just to get to the level of apprenticeship in many of the major scientific disciplines.”

“Alchemy takes longer,” Mother says.

My eyes widen. “Truly?”

Mother nods. “On average, a hopeful may spend a decade or more before being worth making an apprentice. Apprenticeships usually take a minimum of five years, and after that they’re only a First Degree Alchemist. A degree barely worth the name of alchemist.”

“How many degrees are there?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh. That’s a lot. I imagine there aren’t many Twelfth Degree Alchemists,” I say.

“No, there aren’t.”

“Do you know any one?” I ask.

“Yes,” Mother says. “Me.”

I blink. Right, she is an alchemist, isn’t she?

Can’t believe I forgot that.

“I suspect it didn’t take you ten years to make apprentice though,” I say.

“No,” Mother agrees. “One.”

I stare at her. “One?” I ask.

“One,” she confirms.

“Wow, you really are a genius,” I say.

“I am,” she concurs, not a hint of hubris in her tone.

She says it like it is a simple fact of the universe. Which I suppose it is.

Can’t let that stand though. I have to knock her down a peg so she doesn’t get a big head, so, I say, “Pretty sure I can balance more things on my nose than you though.”

It takes everything to not crack up at the expression on her face.

“What?” she asks.

“I can balance more things on my nose than you,” I say, picking up my teaspoon and doing exactly that.

I spread my arms in a challenging manner, and I hear Xiuying fail to fully hold back a snort.

“Are you okay?” Mother asks, looking genuinely curious.

I toss the spoon off my nose with a jerk of my head and catch it with my teeth. Then I tap Mother consolingly on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mother, there’s no shame in admitting that I’m better than you.”

Weirdly enough, for a second, I spot something that almost looks like the light of competitiveness in her eyes, but before I can dwell on it, someone new enters the room.

“Her Divine Majesty will see you now.”

—❈——❈——❈—

—❈——❈——❈—

This chapter was supposed to be the meeting with The Empress and the first outcome of it.

Instead we got a small mother-son moment.

I hope you guys enjoyed it at least.

Next chapter should be out by end of Monday at the latest.

Thanks for reading.