[Young Master Xian]—❈—54:: Mama Xian

Here are some fun facts about The Capital: first, its actual name is Rising Phoenix City, but everyone calls it The Capital, so much so that even some of the people who live there don’t know its actual name; second, while not the largest, or most populous, city on The Continent, it is the city with the largest cultivator population, with a little more than a third of its two million population being at least in Ignition phase; third, as a result of that larger than normal cultivator population, most of the mortals in The Capital live in squalor.

Cultivators are faster, stronger, healthier, longer-lived, and, in general, superior in every physical way to non-cultivators. They… We are, for all intents and purposes, a super race, and naturally, have placed ourselves above our ‘lessers’.

For mortals, the best they can hope for out of life is the opportunity to become cultivators themselves, and, failing that, to be servants to a generous cultivator who will pay and protect them.

That’s it.

The idea of getting an education, becoming a doctor, or engineer, or accountant are all laughable and delusional.

Cultivators own and run the schools, they own and run the hospitals, even technology like the skyships and similar require an ability to manipulate qi. And as for accountants, well, we’ve seen what those do.

There is truly no path for a mortal in this world besides servitude.

This truth had been evident to me back in Silver Springs, but in a place like that, it had been easier to ignore.

The cultivator demographic of Silver Springs wasn’t even five percent of its total population. It might not even have been up to two percent.

In Silver Springs, there were mortals everywhere, and there wasn't really a ‘cultivator part of town’.

The fact that even the most powerful cultivators were peasant ranked Foundation Realms likely also helped.

This is not the case for The Capital though, and even from up in the air, the problem stands out like the nose on a clown’s face.

Of course, this problem is certainly not unique to The Capital, as Meng Yi and Xiuying inform me.

In fact, according to Xiuying, the city of her birth, Rainbow City, was literally two-third mortal slums, one-third fancy cultivator neighbourhoods, and then there was special one percent of the one percent who lived like kings.

This is the situation we find in The Capital, except that that one percent of the one percent don’t just live like royalty, they are royalty.

Between the royal family and the Fifty Great Clans, almost a quarter of the city’s entire land, from the centre spanning out, has been walled in, closed off, restricted, or otherwise claimed as private property.

Not to be outdone, the over half a million cultivators left have claimed more than half of the remaining land in a ring around the centre, both ostentatiously named the Divine Quarter and the Immortal District.

Ringing the Immortal District are ‘the mortal slums’ (an unofficial title), with a million plus mortals crammed into a congested, poverty-ridden shantytown.

A river, almost a kilometre across, cuts through the city from east to west.

It’s called The Sky Mirror, a river spanning The Sunrise Empire that dips almost 200 metres deep in its shallower areas, and well over a kilometre at its deepest.

According to Lin Jian, the riverbed at those deep regions are like worlds unto themselves and full of riches unlike few will ever see. He also says that only the incredibly foolish, or the incredibly powerful, are mad enough to brave them.

Despite the river cutting through a city as congested and as rife with poverty as The Capital, the waters are remarkably clean, causing them to almost perfectly reflect the sky.

Guess that’s how it got its name.

Though, it does make me wonder…

“How is the water so clean?” I ask Lin Jian.

“It isn’t,” he replies.

“Then why does it reflect the sky so well?”

“To hide its secrets,” Lin Jian says.

I stare down at The Sky Mirror with new eyes, realising that the mysteries of its depths are effectively concealed.

Interesting.

There aren’t many boats on the river.

Most people seem entirely content to cross using the six bridges connecting the northern and southern halves of the city. These bridges connect to the wide, well-maintained major roads that weave through the city, and they appear to be the primary means of getting around, the secondary being skyships.

They dot the sky by the dozens, if not the hundreds, their density greater closer to the so-called “Divine Quarter”.

As we approach the Immortal District, Weiju exits her cabin for the first time since the journey began.

It’s just in time, because we’re soon approached by a contingent of city guards on a small, sleek skycraft, who board to request identification.

“I am Xian Weiju, Tier 12 Personnel of Her Divine Majesty’s Military and Senior Captain of Border Patrol,” she says, and beside her, Lin Jian passes some official looking document to the lead guard. “I am here on official duty to deliver Xian Qigang to the Matriarch of the Fiftieth Great Clan.”

At the mention of my name, eyes widen, and the guards’ gazes shift to me with considering expressions of varying intensities.

Wait, do they… know me?

The guard captain, who’d introduced himself as Captain Xan Xai, looks back to Weiju.

“Senior Xian, you’ve come from Silver Springs?” he asks.

Weiju nods.

“Then can you please tell us if it is as bad as they say?”

“How bad are they saying?” Weiju asks.

“They say the corruption spread over a thousand li,” Captain Xan says.

“Over two thousand,” Weiju says. “But it only took uninhabited highlands before it was stopped.”

“I see,” Captain Xan says.

His gaze shifts to me then, and he looks like he would like to ask more questions, but then he reconsiders, bows in thanks to Weiju for the information, and returns to his small vessel with the two guards he brought.

We continue on our way.

“So, everyone knows then?” I ask, still trying to wrap my mind around that fact.

Meng Yi and Xiuying share a look.

“Is that really a surprise?” Xiuying asks.

I sigh.

“No,” I say. “I suppose it isn’t.”

In the Mortal Slums (Heaven, I hate that name), we’d flown over jampacked neighbourhoods and crowded markets, but as we move farther into the Immortal District, things change.

Neighbourhoods become cleaner, streets become wider, amenities like streetlights and lush parks become more common.

Houses now have fences, with walled off courtyards sporting flower rows and fountains.

Properties grow larger and more opulent the farther in we go, single homes now taking up more space than entire neighbourhoods do back in the slums.

Everything is prettier, shinier, newer, better; wealth on display in the most ostentatious of ways.

Then we enter the Divine Quarter.

“Are you okay?” Meng Yi asks, watching my expression.

I stare down at the massive private garden we’re currently flying past that grows beast and peasant rank herbs and spices and flowers by the literal thousands.

Some of those are the kind of cultivation resources that were included in The Auction back in Silver Spring.

To Meng Yi’s question, I answer, “Not really.”

I don’t know if she knows or even suspects what upsets me. I don’t know if she even can, or if she’s gotten so used to the… chasm that is the wealth divide of this world that she doesn’t notice it anymore.

Regardless though, she takes my hand in hers, and I seek comfort from it

Here in the Divine Quarter, we’re not allowed to fly over private property, so the ship sails a couple hundred feet over the main roads.

Everywhere I look is security. City Guards up on skyships, patrolling the streets, even private guards standing watch over private property.

I strongly suspect that all this security is mostly for show, because, unlike in a world like Earth where the rich and powerful are usually as defenceless as (if not more so than) regular people, this is the exact opposite.

There must be some major monsters living here in the Divine Quarter. The woman I’m going to see not least among their number.

We reach the Xian Estate quickly enough. I suppose being number fifty of the great clans isn’t enough to put us next door to The Empress herself.

I have memories of the Xian Estate. Memories of huge, sprawling grounds and massive manors, and a forest I could run in for hours without ever reaching the other end.

I don’t know if my recollection is off, or if the place has since gotten bigger, but my memories do not do its size justice.

The most unsettling thing isn’t the size of the place though, it’s what we’re told at the gates.

“The Matriarch awaits you at her private manor.”

We all disembark the ship, save for the three Airmen, and take carriages pulled by some peasant rank tigers with fur the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen.

Xiuying, Meng Yi, and I share a carriage with Pan Cai, while Weiju and Lin Jian take one by themselves, and as we get closer to my mother’s private manor, I get progressively more jittery.

“Do you remember anything?” Meng Yi asks, and I turn to her.

“Being here again, is anything familiar to you?” she clarifies.

I nod, then suck in a deep, slow breath. It smells like flowers and old memories. “The smell,” I say.

“That makes sense,” Xiuying says. “The smell of home is always hard to forget.”

The way she says it suggests that her memories of home do not stir up nostalgia in her.

That’s fair, I suppose. Mine don’t either.

My mother waits for us at the door when we reach her manor, and beside her is Xian Zexi, my sister; two years my senior and looking entirely unhappy with this whole situation.

Her cultivation has grown.

I don’t quite remember what layer the sage rank had been in when last I saw her, but I’m certain it wasn't at the very peak of Foundation, practically ready to burst into Qi Realm.

Mother watches quietly as we disembark and come before her.

Physically, Xian Qi is not an impressive woman.

She stands barely five foot five, is neither a jade beauty nor a beefy amazon, and even her stance lacks that regality and pride that one often expects to see from nobility.

Her qi though.

That is pure power.

To my qi sense, the being that stands before me is not a woman, it a dragon goddess wreathed in lightning. So great in size as to make a mountain look like a grain of sand.

For Xian Qi, there is no separation between her and her cultivation.

She is not a human following the path of The Thunder Dragon Goddess.

No, she is The Thunder Dragon Goddess.

This is the power only available to those who cross that most desired but elusive of thresholds among cultivators: Congruence.

Beside me, Meng Yi seems to take every step with perfect care, like she’s maintaining perfect control over her body and senses.

Meng Yi, Xiuying, Pan Cai, and Lin Jian all go down to their knees in greeting.

Weiju and I simply bow.

“Mother,” Weiju says in a tone so perfunctory it surprises me.

“Daughter,” our mother replies, tone drier than the desert.

Weiju gestures to me. “I’ve brought Qigang like you asked.”

“So I see,” Xian Qi says. “I thank you for the effort. It must have been backbreaking labour.”

Weiju’s glare shoots daggers at the woman that fail to break skin.

Okay, what’s happening right now?

Looking away from her still glaring daughter, Qi’s eyes turn to me, observing me with an intensity that’s more than a tad unsettling.

“Um, hi,” I say, waving awkwardly.

She blinks slowly at the gesture, then after a moment, nods like she’s come to a decision.

“You will spar Zexi,” she says casually like she’s discussing what she wants for breakfast. “Now. Step aside, everyone.”

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Thanks for reading.

Take care.