Within every cultivator flowed a river of spiritual energy. It surged through the twelve ordinary meridians of their body, suffusing every corner of their existence, filling their seven dantians to the point of bursting. It purified, refined, strengthened and healed, washing away impurities and pulling wounds closed with but a single thought. The faster this river flowed, the greater its power - and so every brave cultivator drove it further, on and on, the current just barely too weak to crack its confines, pushing themselves up against the very edge of destruction in their search of immortality.

  This was the truth of all spiritual energy recirculation laws.

  Myriad were the ways for a cultivator to bring doom upon themselves. Their dantians could overload and explode. Their meridians might shatter. Their body, too weak to withstand the might of spiritual energy, could tear itself apart. But every careless corpse was a lesson to others - every mistake, a guiding stone.

  But as the saying went, the universal dao was truly universal - and just like the truth of Heaven’s malice could be found in the shape of every leaf, the principles of cultivation could be extended far beyond the meek human body. The Thirteenth Lotus Empire was no exception. Just like every cultivator within its borders, it strove, and it pushed, and it evolved. It learned, and with every decade, it grew stronger. And where a cultivator’s body had twelve meridians, the empire’s enormous, sprawling organism was permeated through by the tendrils of its eleven ministries.

  For all that the names of the ministries may have seemed innocuous, their histories were anything but. Each one had been forged in the fires of what had come before, hardened by the failures and tragedies that threatened to tear the empire apart at the seams, and quenched in the blood shed to keep it together. Each had to be stronger than steel, to survive one imperial succession after another.

  There was a reason why every postal office was still built like a fortress.

  Such thoughts passed through Qian Shanyi’s mind as she pushed open the doors to one of the parlors of the Ministry of Cooperation.

  The fragrance of incense hit her as the warm air rushed through the opening - rich and heavy, of smoke, sea and salt. It was as if she was sent back home, with her mother having brought some smoked fish home from the market. There was a comfortable depth to it, wrapping all around her like a blanket. Even without her realising it, some tension had leaked out of Qian Shanyi’s shoulders as she stepped inside.

  The doors opened onto a small, cozy room, six identical doors dotting the walls. Qian Shanyi expected to be greeted - but after a minute passed with no sign of any living being, she shrugged, then picked one of the doors at random and headed deeper into the parlor.

  The door led into a labyrinth of wood and paper screens, hallways curling in on themselves, passing through hedge mazes grown in between small buildings, everything drizzled by the light morning rain. There was no pattern to it - at least, none that Qian Shanyi could discern. As she walked through it, she ran into one dead end after another, little comfortable nooks full of pillows and artwork, each inviting her to sit down and take a quiet nap - or pick up a game of mahjong with a couple close friends.

  It was, no doubt, an incredible place for relaxation. Many parlors were - the ones she visited in Golden Rabbit Bay were all built as luxurious houses of tea and entertainment, with music playing at all times of day and night, cultivators coming and going, though they tended towards a much more open design. But Qian Shanyi didn’t come here to get drunk and play games. She came here for business, and on quite a tight timeline.

  The Ministry of Cooperation was nothing like the Ministry of Public Works, with their standard building plans and indexed request forms. Its job was to keep peace with the sects - and since every sect was individual, few things about the diplomatic process could be standardized. It was the work of building and maintaining relationships, of dissolving old grudges in even older wine, all so that the local sects could rely on one of the imperators to serve as a reliable middleman should a conflict arise.

  In other words, it was a system built to be enjoyable far more than it was built to be fast.

  Most of the time, this was fine. Sects had little reason to move from one place to another without warning. Even taking a couple months to establish a good working relationship was perfectly acceptable. But Qian Shanyi needed to make sect seals - and unlike the ordinary seals, that, too, was the ministry’s domain.

  She needed to talk to an imperator. An imperator that she could never hope to find within this maze.

  The least they could have done was leave a hostess at the entrance.

  Perhaps she simply came at the wrong time of day. It was early morning, and so she doubted very many cultivators would be willing to brave the miserable drizzle outside to come to the parlor. It was only natural that the place would be so empty.

  Finally, after a good ten minutes of being turned around and walking in circles, she rounded a corner, and came across a trio of cultivators - young men, the lot of them - playing mahjong, and splitting a bottle of wine in between them. She sensed them through the walls long ago, just like she sensed another two groups elsewhere in the parlor - but finding a path to reach them was another matter entirely.

  “Ah, fellow cultivators!” Qian Shanyi smiled, the peeved expression washed off her face like so much dust by the rain. “I have just been passing by - is there any good entertainment to be found here?”

  She innocuously glanced over the three men, but none of them seemed to recognise her - which was good. Fang Jiugui’s acquaintances could have been hiding anywhere. She colored her hair, put on makeup, wore clothes that changed her silhouette - but there was nothing she could do to hide the flow of her spiritual energy.

  The man sitting opposite her nodded, smiled, and motioned towards a free pillow. He was wearing black robes, tied off with a sky-blue sash. Moon symbols running down his sleeves marked him as a low rank imperial official - and their blue color, as a member of the Ministry of Cooperation.

  A host, in other words. Not an imperator, but perhaps meeting one directly was too much to be expected.

  “Of course there is, honorable cultivator!” the host said, “As long as you would grace us with your name?”

  “You may call me Han Yalin,” Qian Shanyi lied, sitting down on the offered pillow. “But now I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “I am Liu Zhihang”, the host said, and then gestured to the other two players. “This one is Chen Yangfeng, and this is postmaster Xu Mingzhi.”

  Qian Shanyi bowed slightly to the others, and settled in, prepared to wait for the game to end.

  In the back of her mind, that ever-present paranoia still tingled. Even if none of the others recognised her at first glance, that was no guarantee they would remain ignorant.

  It was, of course, incredibly unlikely for a refinement stage cultivator to recognise her spiritual energy flow based on a loose description alone, from some letter Fang Jiugui might have sent. Even if they did - and even if they sent a letter back to Fang Jiugui - the post office would struggle to deliver it to someone constantly on the move, chasing after Wang Yonghao.

  But it was possible. It was a hidden danger she could not entirely dismiss. Even a single letter would already draw him to the region.

  “I admit, the design of your peculiar parlor had confounded me, honorable Liu,” she said, keeping her thoughts to herself. “I was hoping to meet an imperator, but within these halls, finding my path seems almost impossible.”

  “Oh, imperator Gong is here somewhere,” Liu Zhihang said, easily dodging the obvious question. “You needn’t worry - I am sure he will appear, sooner or later.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  So much for hoping this would go quick.

  Some imperators preferred to meet petitioners right away. Others, let their hosts and hostesses scout out the situation first. It seemed imperator Gong was one of the latter.

  Qian Shanyi sighed deep within her heart, and focused on the game in front of her. If she was to play, she might as well do it properly.

  A true cultivator could even make the suns rush through the sky - but there was no rushing the Ministry of Cooperation.

  It took four hours for Liu Zhihang to get around to introducing her to imperator Gong Yuxuan. It took another hour of talking to the man himself before Qian Shanyi could slowly twist the conversation closer and closer to the business at hand. Even by the standards of the Ministry of Cooperation, this was a bit much.

  The local imperators had an enormous amount of leeway in how they did things - and some chose to lean more in one direction or another. The parlour back in Glaze Ridge chose the road of directness - she’d managed to apply for her sect recognition certificate within only twenty minutes - but it seemed imperator Gong walked the exact opposite path. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising, given how he built out his parlour.

  Ordinarily, Qian Shanyi wouldn’t have minded at all. All members of the Ministry of Cooperation were trained to be excellent conversationalists, and a little verbal sparring with them was always a delight. They were unfailingly polite throughout, too, which was a disappointing rarity.

  On top of that, the Ministry of Cooperation was one of the key supporters of emperor Cho in the last imperial succession, and the first to start hiring women during the reformation - so much so, that nowadays hostesses outnumbered the hosts by a good margin. If Qian Shanyi knew more about it back when she became a cultivator, she might have tried to join the ministry instead of her sect simply based on those facts alone. Giving them a little face, spending a bit more time than necessary, was a small sacrifice.

  But there was no turning back the inexorable flow of time - and that went doubly for the hours she spent here. They only had one month to make their seals, after all. Now was not the time for relaxation - and so every minute of jokes and shared stories felt like the claws of some sadistic beast scraping Qian Shanyi’s shins down to the bone.

  “Ah, but forgive this old man for his prattling!” Gong Yuxuan laughed, finishing up another humorous anecdote about one of the local sects. He was an almost identical copy of Liu Zhihang, only a decade older, and with symbols of little gates decorating the sleeves of his robes - seventh rank, appropriate for an imperator. The two were almost certainly related - but even if Qian Shanyi was a little curious about the different family names, she didn’t ask. The last thing she needed was another story. “I am sure honorable cultivator Han has her own troubles to share.”

  Finally, sweet mercy.

  Qian Shanyi smiled, letting none of her thoughts show on her face. At least all this wasted time made her certain nobody here had heard of her before. “It is no trouble at all. In truth, I represent a small sect.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Indeed. We prefer not to brag about it. My Elder says it is unvirtuous.”

  Gong Yuxuan scratched his chin. “You are not the first one. Little Zhihang brought you to me, hm? Was he playing with Chen again?”

  Qian Shanyi inclined her head slightly. “Fellow cultivator Chen Yangfeng? I believe he was.”

  “Did he tell you about his sect, or is he still hiding it?”

  “Honorable cultivator Chen? No, he hasn’t mentioned it,” Qian Shanyi said, forcing her face to remain impassive even as the older man threatened to go on yet another sidetrack.

  “Of course he hasn’t!” Gong Yuxuan laughed again. “My, my. He comes from the Purpuric Flying Snakes sect. Used to be he would bring it up every day - but after that incident where their young master was found passed out drunk in a ditch, having pissed his own pants, young Chen had been strangely silent about it.” Gong Yuxuan clapped his hands together. “But I’ve spoken long enough - please do go on.”

  Qian Shanyi sighed in her heart. What an utter waste of her time.

  “I am afraid our sect has no such salacious rumors,” she said instead with an easy smile. “I will make sure to avoid bringing up such a painful subject with honorable cultivator Chen. But for now - my sect is looking to find a good place to build our compound. If honorable cultivator Gong would be so kind as to tell me a bit about the city and its trade, then this here cultivator would be most grateful.”

  She didn’t want to know about trade. She wanted to make their damn seals. But if this old man was so willing to gossip about what the other sects were doing - he’d gossip about her as well. Best not to give him anything true to talk about.

  This wasn’t the first such rumor she heard from his lips, either. Just the last drop that spilled over the edge of her mind.

  He didn’t even notice her hesitation, for why would he? He hadn’t done anything wrong. The rumors he spoke of were not secret by any measure. The sect would hardly lose any face from him talking of it behind closed doors. She was even sure that if she told him to keep her business private, he would have agreed without hesitation, and done so unfailingly.

  But that would attract a different form of attention - from the Ministry of Cooperation itself. A new sect asking for all their business to be kept quiet, even about seemingly innocuous questions - it would surely seem a little strange. If Gong Yuxuan were to write to his colleagues, ask if anyone knew something - the chances that it would reach the ear of one of Fang Jiugui’s old colleagues rose dramatically.

  She needed an imperator who wouldn’t talk, even when she didn’t ask them to keep quiet.

  It took Qian Shanyi another half an hour to extricate herself from Gong Yuxuan without arousing further suspicion, and she hated every second of it. She couldn’t keep her lips from pressing together into a thin line once she left the parlor. An entire morning, wasted. Even if she expected something like this to happen eventually - it was still infuriating.

  Linghui Mei met her two streets away from the parlor, falling into step just behind her. “I was starting to worry you got caught, master,” she whispered, “how did it go?”

  “How do you think?” Qian Shanyi said curtly. “About as well as shaving pubes with a sword.”

  They walked in silence for a minute. Linghui Mei didn’t tell her to stop, so Qian Shanyi simply headed back to the tea house where they stopped for drinks. Linghui Mei was supposed to stay there and keep watch over their bags - Qian Shanyi hoped she at least stashed them somewhere safe, if she was out here on the street, looking for her.

  “I am sorry for snapping at you,” Qian Shanyi finally said, once she got control over herself again. “I am just in a terrible mood for having wasted all morning. Let’s just get our things and head onto the next town.”

  “It is alright, master,” Linghui Mei said. “Perhaps a good plate of ramen would help your mood? I made sure to ask around while you were gone, and reserved us a place.”

  Qian Shanyi stopped in her tracks, and turned around, looking Linghui Mei in the eyes. “Ramen?”

  Her stomach rumbled. Liu Zhihang offered her a meal back at the parlor - but she refused, or else she’d have met with the imperator another hour later. She would be lying if she said that it didn’t contribute to her foul mood.

  “The best in the city, I was told,” Linghui Mei confirmed, with a small bow.

  Qian Shanyi breathed out, forcing the tension to leak out of her shoulders. “You are the best disciple. Forget the bags - lead the way.”

  Twenty-seven towns. That was how many Qian Shanyi declared acceptable for making their seals - but those towns were not created equal. It was impossible to determine if a town might have some hidden dangers from the outside, and she fully expected to run into issues, just like she had today. In fact, picking a perfect town right away was quite unlikely.

  This was what brought them to the Five Sealed Hills region.

  The eponymous Five Sealed Hills were a series of ancient burial mounds, ones that, due to a quirk of local conditions, were a perfect breeding ground of ravenous spirits. For centuries, the locations of the mounds were unknown, and the region remained entirely unsettled but for a few daring demonic sects - until the empire swept the land and cleared out the ghosts.

  What remained was one of the most fertile lands in the entire province, hundreds of rivers and streams soaking the earth, one that grew much of the rice, wheat and barley consumed downstream.

  Out of their twenty seven acceptable towns, twelve were spread throughout this exact region. Grouped up fairly close together - easy to move from one to the next, if need be. Linghui Mei knew the region well, too - the many rivers, marshes and rice farms made it easy to break up jiuweihu scent trails, and lose any spirit hunters on her tails.

  A fertile region, and a guide who knew it well. The stage was set for their success.

  And yet, the time was ticking. They agreed Wang Yonghao would circle around after a month - and making the seals themselves would take no less than two weeks. If they dawdled too much, all their planning would be for naught.

  It was a race against time - and they were already falling behind.