Young Master Xian Sure Has Changed

We walk out of the restaurant, eyes on our backs the whole way out.

—❈—

“What happened to her?” I ask immediately we’re out on the streets once again. “The thing with the chopsticks I did, there’s nothing special about it, it’s just a simple experiment from back home. Why’d it make her advance? And why did advancing make her so weak? Does it always do that?”

“No,” Meng Yi says, apparently deciding to start with my last question. “Under normal circumstances advancement is an all around bonus. My advancement into the mere fourth layer of the Ignition phase left me going three days before I needed sleep.”

“Then why did hers almost knock her out?”

“Because it was a forced advancement,” Meng Yi explains. “It happens when a cultivator experiences great shock or stress, or a moment of—”

“Enlightenment,” I finish for her as realization sets in.

“Indeed, Young Master. It’s vanishingly rare, but it happens; the shock of losing a loved one, the stress of a difficult battle, moments of great emotion, sometimes, they push us up to the next layer. Many cultivators have thrown their lives away taking on opponents they couldn’t match in the hopes of pushing through a bottleneck in their cultivation.”

I digest that for a moment. “And this forced advancement, it takes a lot out of the cultivator?”

Meng Yi nods. “Cultivation needs time. The Vice Commander only just stepped into the second layer of the Sprouting phase a year ago, and it took her six years to make that climb.”

“So, even assuming that the time needed for each layer stays the same—”

“Which it doesn’t,” Meng Yi interjects.

“Figured,” I say, then continue; “then that means that I basically condensed at least five years of cultivation into the length of one conversation.”

“And what a conversation it was,” Meng Yi says, looking like she has chills simply from thinking about it.

“It’s nothing impressive,” I say. “Honestly, I’m surprised Xiuying reacted that strongly to it.”

Meng Yi gives me a long, piercing look.

“You really do not see how amazing that was, do you?” she asks in a tone that tells me it’s rhetorical. “You took her mind and moulded it, warped it to your desires with nothing but a few words and some chopsticks. That is power many will kill to have.”

I stare at her, only now realizing how much of an effect my little display had on her.

“It really was nothing special.” I shrug awkwardly. “Anyone can do it, all it takes is the know-how. Besides, what I did? That was brute forcing a process that requires finesse above all things. The right look, the right words, the right actions, the right environment; long enough and you can truly have a person’s mind in the palm of your hand.”

Meng Yi stops walking, watching me.

“What?” I ask self-consciously after a moment.

“The longer I know you the higher my evaluation of you becomes, Young Master,” Meng Yi says.

I frown. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing,” I say.

“Me neither,” she admits after a moment, then she smiles at me. “But I like it.”

Meng Yi continues walking then, and after a moment staring at her back, I follow, a small smile on my own face.

—❈—

After what happened the last time we entered a restaurant, I decide I’m not doing it again.

Since we still need to eat though, we go for street food instead, and Meng Yi takes the opportunity to show me around the town.

Honestly, this is what we should have done from the beginning.

After being cooped up indoors over the last few days, the opportunity to walk around, with the sun on my skin and the wind on my face, it’s glorious.

Throw in the bonus of getting to experience a new town, with its unfamiliar culture and cuisine and I’m certainly enjoying myself.

I don’t know how long we walk around town, but by the time we’re interrupted, the sun has moved directly above us and past to the other side, lengthening our shadows in the opposite direction.

The person who interrupts us is an official looking man wearing an official looking hat. Not official in the manner of Police or military, but in that of Alfred Pennyworth… or Meng Yi, now that I think about it. That is to say that this man looks like the aide, or manager, or butler, or whatever you want to call it, of someone important.

The man bows low. “Manager Meng Yi. Young Master Xian Qigang. This Aide Dai Guanting greets you.”

Meng Yi bows back, and I have to resist the instinctive urge to ape her actions.

Even I know better than to bow to an aide, regardless of how much I may think this whole ‘who to bow to and how low to bow’ thing is kinda silly.

“Aide Dai Guanting, this Manager Meng Yi greets you too,” Meng Yi says. “Although, I take it this meeting is not happenstance?”

“It is not,” Aide Dai says. “Magistrate Qin Zedong requests the presence of your Young Master.”

Meng Yi nods in acknowledgement, then she turns and bows to me.

“Young Master, The Magistrate requests your presence. Shall we attend?” she asks.

I blink at the both of them.

So, even though I’m literally standing right here, Aide Dai has to address Meng Yi, and Meng Yi has to pretend I didn’t hear everything Aide Dai just said?

You know where I’m from it’s considered rude to ignore a person’s presence.

Besides, what exactly is the idea; that Aide Dai lacks the social standing to address me directly? That I’m too important to communicate with a lowly servant? But then what about Meng Yi? I address her all the time. Is that not okay?

I feel like she would have mentioned it if it wasn’t?

Besides, if I can’t address her then how the hell am I supposed to get anything done?

Pulling myself out of that rabbit hole, I say; “Yes. It’s fine.”

Meng Yi turns to Aide Dai. “Please, inform Magistrate Qin Zedong that we will be there in three hours.”

Aide Dai bows again, which Meng Yi returns, then he walks away, disappearing in a bend down the street.

“Why three hours?” I ask Meng Yi.

She looks like she wants to sigh. “Because if you’re meeting The Magistrate then there are some things you must know. Come.”

And with that, she drags me to a restaurant that offers private dining rooms, and we sit in one and talk for the next hour.

—❈—

It is said that actions have consequences, unintended or otherwise, and that, whether we want to or not, we have to deal with them.

I’ve never had a problem with that saying until today.

When Aide Dai had said that The Magistrate wanted to see me, I hadn’t been surprised. Of course he wants to see me, I’m the scion of an important family about whom there are… interesting rumours going around.

It is exactly because of important people like these who might take an interest in me for any number of reasons that I was readily onboard with Meng Yi’s ‘enlightenment’ plan; if everyone expects me to be different from as I was, then I can just go ahead and be all the way different, instead of trying to pretend to be someone who leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

After Meng Yi gives me a little background on The Magistrate though, I realize that this may not be quite what I thought.

See, of the hundreds, if not thousands, of cultivators in Silver Springs, Magistrate Qin Zedong is the only one who stands above the Formation Realm.

While a Qi Realm cultivator however, as well as indisputably the most powerful person in town, he is also a beast ranked cultivator nearing the end of his life who has never advanced a single time in the seventy years he’s been Magistrate of Silver Springs.

Apparently, despite the amazing power of cultivation (and cultivators calling non-cultivators ‘mortals’), we still age.

Life expectancy increases along with the realm of one’s cultivation, of course, but none of us are truly immortal.

Formation Realms for example live around 100 to 150 years. Qi Realms about 300 to 500. And Domain Realms 800 to 1,200.

There are factors that affect this though, like the speed of one’s cultivation, for instance; did a cultivator breakthrough into Qi Realm as a thirty-one years old Formation Realm, or did they did so as a ninety-five year old? Are they a beast rank cultivator, or a noble rank one? Things like these significantly affect what end of the scale a cultivator ends up on, and seeing as it’s a scale that, in the Qi Realm alone, spans two hundred years, it’s not exactly a mystery why most would want to be on the upper end of it.

Magistrate Qin Zedong is a beast rank cultivator who, as far as anyone can tell, broke through to Qi Realm very late in life.

And, at well into his third century of life, he has been stuck at the second layer of the first phase (the Vapour phase) of Qi Realm for over seventy years.

Simply put, this is a man who might be desperate for any opportunity.

Enter me, the knobhead who supposedly ate a magical, enlightenment granting fruit, who then proceeded to, very publicly may I add, cause a cultivator he just met forced advancement with a single conversation.

If I don’t look like an opportunity, then I don’t know what does.

We arrive at The Magistrate’s home sometime in late afternoon.

It is a stately affair, bigger even than my own home, and, just like mine, perched atop its own private mountain peak.

Is that like a thing rich people do around here? I wonder. Back on Earth, they brag about owning their own islands, and over here they brag about owning their own private mountains?

We’re welcomed in by servants who clearly expect us, and, in no time at all, I’m shown into a private room, leaving Meng Yi outside.

The room is plush and comfy. Small, cozy, and decorated in soft reds and bright gold.

There are two small sofas facing each other, and on one is a man who can only be The Magistrate.

Magistrate Qin Zedong is an old man.

Not even a gracefully old man, of the sort that exudes vitality and strength despite his age; no, he’s just… regular old. Stooped, wrinkled, grey, and with an air of frailty about him.

Honestly, if not for the well of qi I feel within him, a thousand times more powerful than even Xiuying’s, I would think he was two breaths away from keeling over.

I bow to The Magistrate, ‘low enough to denote respect, but high enough to not be subservient,’ as Meng Yi had instructed me before we came.

The Magistrate looks at me with some surprise.

“You really have changed,” he says, and unlike the looks of him, his voice sounds strong and lively.

I pause. “You’re the second person who’s said that to me today within seconds of our meeting. Is it that obvious?”

Magistrate Qin nods. “It is. The man you were would have preferred to be spit roasted over a volcano than bow to me. If he accepted a summons from me at all.”

My eyebrows climb. “Seriously?” I can’t help but ask.

“Indeed. Please sit,” he says, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

I oblige, sinking into the comfortable chair.

“Tea?” he asks, gesturing to the tea already set out on the small table between us.

‘Always say yes, even if only to be polite,’ Meng Yi’s words come to me. ‘And take a small sip at the very least, doing otherwise implies you distrust your host.’

“Yes, thank you,” I say, and Magistrate Qin pours me a cup of tea.

Tea with peasant rank qi.

Add to that the fact that he poured me a cup, well… this guy’s trying to butter me up.

Magistrate Qin pours himself a cup too, and he lifts it up and takes a long sip.

‘Of course, your host should always drink first. Never drink unless they’ve drank.’

So, drink unless you distrust your host, but only trust your host after they’ve drank.

What kind of ridiculous…

Setting aside the thought with a mental sigh, I take a sip of the delicious, spicy tea… after rolling for it, of course.

Rolling…

4 (Beast Rank)

Reward: Nil

Drat.

“This is delicious,” I say. “What is it?”

“Dragon ginseng tea.”

Ah. I knew I sort of recognized that taste.

I had ginseng tea once in my old life. It was the cheap, processed stuff (which probably only had like two percent actual ginseng in it), but I still recognize the hint of that taste in this tea.

Although, maybe it’s more the opposite and the cheap stuff I’d bought back on Earth had a hint of the richness that fills my soul now.

Still does nothing for my cultivation though; the cons of being a high ranked cultivator, I guess.

“It’s good. Must have been pricey though,” I say, deciding to get on with things. “And I definitely didn’t miss the fact that you poured my tea.”

My eyes meet his, faded and cloudy with age, but still with the spark of an able mind.

Magistrate Qin laughs. “I see not everything about you has changed,” he says, then sobers. “How much have you forgotten?” he asks.

The question takes me by surprise for a moment, then I sigh.

“A lot,” I say. “I spent much of the last few days going through my own journal and having Meng Yi explain many things to me.”

Magistrate Qin hums thoughtfully. “It must be quite the experience for you then, seeing the effect your presence has on certain people.”

My lips curl downward. “Yes, that hasn’t been fun,” I say, then, angry and not caring how the words might sound to The Magistrate, add; “May Xian Qigang die a thousand deaths.”

Magistrate Qin says nothing for a minute.

“You are glad to be rid of him then?” he asks finally.

“Am I?” I ask back. “Rid of him.”

“No, I suppose not.”

We fall silent again, and I sip my tea placidly, waiting for the old man (who can, no doubt, break me like a twig regardless of age) to speak first.

When he does, the words are not ones I expect.

“When I was a young man, my best friend ate a celestial plum.”

I stare at him, the realization of just how fucked I might be growing steadily within me.

If Magistrate Qin has firsthand experience with someone who ate a plum then, I might be very screwed.

“Really?” I ask, hoping I imagine the way my voice cracks from a mini panic attack.

Magistrate Qin nods, looking lost in memory. “It was beast rank,” he says. “She stole it. And then she took her own life when enlightenment revealed to her that there was nowhere in the world she could go to escape the man she stole it from.”

That distracts me from my panic temporarily. “She killed herself!?”

Magistrate Qin nods again, his grief still clear even after all these years. “She was always ambitious, but we were never lucky, just two nobodies with mediocre talent. For people like us the only real option is to serve.

“But, Ming she… she wanted more. And when Heaven wouldn’t give her its favour, she decided she would make her own.”

“So she stole a celestial plum,” I say.

Magistrate Qin smiles a sad, tired smile. “It was the stupidest thing ever, and yet I helped her do it. And when she wanted to share the plum, I told her to eat it alone, fearful that splitting it would ruin its effect.”

He sighs. “Enlightenment revealed the truth of the hole we’d dug ourselves into, so she knocked me out and left to fix it; she faced the man we stole the plum from, convinced him she acted alone, and fought to the bitter end. When I woke, all I had—” he reaches into his robe and pulls out an old piece of folded parchment “—was the letter she left me.”

Magistrate Qin laughs a strange laugh that pulls on my heart like a threaded needle.

“Words written under enlightenment, and half of it are apologies and reminisces,” he says.

I swallow. “Why are you telling me this?” I ask.

I mean, sure, his friend ate a celestial plum as I (supposedly) did, but telling me all of this, there has to be a better reason than ‘oh, you did this thing my friend did too.’

“I imagine when I called you here you assumed I did it in the hope that you could help me advance. Maybe in the same way you helped the Vice Commander,” Magistrate Qin says. “But I’ve lived long enough to know that I have no wish to extend my life.

“So, the favour I have to ask of you, Young Master Xian, is this.” He holds the letter out to me. “In this letter are words I do not understand. They are neither the language of men, nor are they the language of qi. It is my hope that, since you have experienced what she did when she wrote this, you might be able to read them to me.”

Fuck.

“Magistrate Qin,” I begin, “I—”

“Please,” he says, eyes filled with more emotion than I thought was possible. “Try. Please.”

Slowly, I take the letter, and even slower, I open it.

Okay, I’ll just look the thing over and give it back to—I freeze.

The words Magistrate Qin can’t read are easy to find. They’re right there, at the bottom of the letter, and the sight of them draws a singular reaction from me.

What the hell!?

I look at Magistrate Qin; my reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“You understand it,” he says, leaning off his seat in eagerness.

“You say your friend wrote this while under enlightenment?” I can’t help but confirm.

“Yes. What does it say?”

“It’s a song,” I say and that catches The Magistrate off guard.

“A song?”

My skin is covered in goosebumps, my hands are shaking, and I’m more surprised than I was even when I found myself spontaneously isekai’d.

But, because I have no idea what else to do, I sing the song, not even needing to read the lyrics on the paper in my hand.

~Fly me to the moon~

~Let me play among the stars~