Meng Yi had been a serving girl herself back then, and on the day Xian Qigang had walked into the restaurant she worked at, she'd known that it was her turn.
He'd spotted her quickly; she was beautiful after all, and when he'd leered at her, Meng Yi had nodded to herself and gone to him, prepared to lie like there was no tomorrow.
For, you see, while Meng Yi understood completely that her place in the world was to serve those above her, she also understood that, even within the limited boundaries of servitude, there were layers. And if she was going to have to put up with someone as scabrous as Xian Qigang, then there was no reason why she should be at the bottom of the pecking order.
Meng Yi had ended up in Xian Qigang's bed that night, and as she'd been prepared to do, she lied her ass off.
"You rocked my world," she'd told him, when all he'd rocked was the poor bed.
"I've never cum this hard before." "You really are a man among men, Young Master Xian."
Perhaps she'd laid it on a bit too thick, but alas, Xian Qigang was a narcissist, to believe her words false would require him to pull his head out of his own ass far enough to spot her insincerity, and his anatomy was simply not designed for that.
Sex alone though, no matter how well she used it to stroke his ego, was not enough, Meng Yi knew that. She needed more.
So, she gave more.
She gave Xian Qigang the attention he craved. She gave him the loyalty he felt he was owed.
Meng Yi was the perfect servant for a man like him; quiet, dutiful, competent, beautiful.
Soon he began to give her gifts. Then he began to trust her. In less than two years, she was Manager of his estate.
And, yes, it cost her. Her happiness, her pride, her freedom, even a relationship with a boy she may have loved.
But every time she went to visit her mother and her sisters in their new house, and she saw them wearing new clothes and eating good food; every time he gave her cultivation resources and she advanced a layer, Meng Yi knew that it was worth it. And she knew that she would do it all over again.
Xian Qigang was not a good man, or a kind one, but he was useful to her. And maybe for someone like Meng Yi, that was the best she could reasonably hope for.
Chapter One:: Good Head And A Good Head
Everyone has fantasies, by which I mean sexual fantasies.
For some, it's super kinky stuff, like being peed on by an amputee or something, but for others, it can range anywhere from some light choking, to fantasies so vanilla they're barely even worth the name.
I happen to be one of those vanilla lovers.
See, my greatest fantasy is to be with a woman who loves me. A woman who treats sex as an experience that we both derive pleasure from, instead of as a favour to me, or some unpleasant chore to be tolerated for my sake.
Simply put, my greatest sexual fantasy is to be in a sexually healthy and fulfilling relationship with a woman. And yes, I know. It's freaking sad.
Now, as anyone can (and will) have guessed from what my fantasy is, I haven't had a lot of luck in the dating department.
At twenty-four, I've been in two relationships, the first with a girl who, beyond being adamant that there would be no sex before marriage, also thought that tongue kissing was gross and sinful, and the second with a girl who just laid back, often with her face turned away while I 'did my business' (her words).
It is important to note that girlfriend number two also thought that tongue kissing was gross, and the one time I suggested going down on her, she reacted with disgust and told me she was never kissing me again if I put my mouth anywhere near there.
So, yes, my greatest sexual fantasy is being with a girl who doesn't make me feel like a rapist in bed.
Now, I mention all of this simply to provide some context as to why when I wake up on a strange bed, in a strange room, with a strange, beautiful, Chinese girl stroking my dick, I simply assume that I'm having a strangely vivid sex dream.
"Um, hi," I say to her, noting (and ignoring) my smoother, richer voice. I mean, it's a dream, of course I suddenly sound like a crooning Lionel Richie.
The girl smiles at me, her soft brown eyes lighting up like I'm her whole world.
"Good morning, Young Master," she says, voice like a lullaby.
Her term of address for me catches my attention for a moment before I shake it off.
I'm having a Chinese themed sex dream, being some sort of young lord is the least weird thing happening here.
Definitely the silliest, mind you, but you know what? I could use the ego boost.
"Good morning to you too," I say back to the girl, smiling a little awkwardly at her.
Dream or not, I've never been in such a situation before. I need a moment to adjust.
It must be because of how real everything seems.
An expression of surprised confusion flashes across the girl's face for a quick moment, but it's quickly replaced with a smile once again.
The girl leans down then, and a small, pink tongue flicks out of her mouth to lick the crown of my dick.
The electric feel of the brief contact draws a sharp gasp from me, and the girl gives me another look of surprise and confusion. Confusion which quickly turns to teasing as she asks, "Did Young Master like that?"
I nod eagerly. "Young Master liked that very much," I say.
The girl laughs, and there's a flash of that expression again, like I'm being odd.
Before I can ask about it though, she says, "Well, if Young Master likes that, then he will love this." And she opens her mouth and swallows my dick down her throat.
I do not consider myself a philosophical person. I'm hardly the type to spend my hours contemplating the mysteries of the universe and all that jazz.
In this moment though, I come face to face with a fundamental truth of the universe, and it is that the human mind is an amazing thing.
I've never had a blowjob before, and even my experience with vaginal sex is pretty limited, and yet, somehow, here I am having a vivid dream of getting a blowjob, and honestly, if the real thing is even half this good, then I can completely understand why some guys get so obsessed with it.
Because, and pardon my French, oh my fucking God!
Unlike in the handful of porn I've seen over the years, the girl doesn't go hard and fast on me.
There is no gagging, no slobbering, she doesn't even do the head bobbing thing, she simply keeps my dick sheathed in her mouth, sucking and licking, and I swear I'm already halfway to nutting.
She keeps her eyes on mine the entire time, staring up at me with this intense adoration that's honestly a bit unsettling, though nowhere near enough to distract from the pleasure she gives.
I reach for her beautiful face, caressing her cheek, her ear, running my fingers through her lustrous black hair, and again comes that look of confusion that is getting harder and harder to ignore, even as I step ever closer to orgasm.
Actually, scratch that, I'm not stepping closer to cumming, I'm right there pounding on the freaking door.
As though she can tell (which makes sense, seeing as this is my dream), the girl suddenly sucks much harder than before and I explode into her mouth.
It carries on for what could be a minute or an eternity, leaving me boneless and panting when it finally passes.
I slump back on the sinfully soft pillows behind me as dream girl releases my dick, not a single drop of my semen spilling from her lips.
"Thank you for the meal, Young Master," she says, and I can't help but laugh at the silliness of the line.
It sounds like the kind of thing people say in bad porn.
"This has to be the craziest dream I've ever had," I say.
One of dream girl's eyebrows climb. "Dream?" she asks carefully.
I open my mouth to respond, but post-nut clarity is seeping in now, and it's getting much harder to simply ignore (or explain away) anything that doesn't aid in the pursuit of an orgasm.
My brain runs through this entire scenario again, highlighting every discrepancy I ignored before, from the several confused looks dream girl gave me to the vividness of the sights and sounds, the smells.
You shouldn't be able to smell in dreams, right?
I'm pretty sure that's a thing.
Pushing myself up, I stare at dream girl.
She looks back with confusion and some worry.
"Young Master," she asks slowly, "are you okay?"
I stare at my hands, they're much paler than I remember. Fingers a little too long, too slender. Skin too smooth. Too perfect.
At a corner of the huge, opulent room, I spot a dresser with an oval mirror that looks framed with what might be actual gold.
I crawl off the massive bed and stumble the moment I take a step towards the mirror. I feel taller. And… oh, my trousers are around my ankles.
Sheepishly, I correct that.
The mirror reveals the face of a stranger. A handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
I reach up to my face, the—my—reflection mirroring the act.
I run my fingers over my cheeks, scratching and tugging on the little goatee just to confirm.
Yep, it's me. I'm in a stranger's body. A rich, Chinese stranger's body.
I've been isekai'd.
What the hell?
"Is something the matter, Young Master?" Definitely-not-a-dream girl asks, drawing my attention back to her.
She's left the bed too, staring at me worriedly from a few feet away.
Seeing her on her feet now, I can't help but notice how short she is, five foot two at most, and the expression of confused worry on her face suddenly makes her look so young. Almost like a teen… oh god.
"Um… how old are you?" I ask with trepidation.
The question throws her off for a moment, but she recovers quickly, bowing slightly before answering. "I celebrated my nineteenth birthday two months ago. Young Master gifted me a Moonlight Clover." Her head comes back up and she eyes me in perplexity. "Does Young Master not remember?"
"Oh, uh, of course I remember," I say, trying to laugh it off, while hiding my relief to the fact that 'shoved my dick down a minor's throat' hasn't been added to the list of insanity in my life today. "Don't mind me," I add, "just had a momentary brain fart."
Nineteen-year-old not-a-dream girl looks at me oddly. "A… brain fart?" she asks, testing out the words like they're unfamiliar.
Oh, crap, they don't say that here?
Shit! I need to get out of this conversation. Stat!
"Um, I need a bath," I say, going with the first thing that comes to mind.
The girl blinks at my declaration, then she nods. "Of course, Young Master," she says. "You have the meeting with the Ping Matriarch at the ninth hour."
A flash of panic hits me.
"Oh, um, right, the meeting with the Ping Matriarch. How could I forget?" Now if I only knew what the meeting is about.
Deciding to take a chance, I ask outright, "Say, um… what was the meeting about again? I forget."
If it's nothing important, I'm faking a stomach-ache.
The girl stares at me in disbelief. "Your betrothal," she says like it should be obvious.
I blanche.
"Right." I swallow. "My betrothal." I laugh awkwardly. "Can't miss that."
The girl's disbelief immediately morphs into a decisive frown, and that's when she says words that really scare the crap out of me.
"Who are you?" she asks. "Because you are not Xian Qigang."
CHAPTER TWO:: 962
My immediate instinct is to lie. To bluster and hope that I can convince this girl that I am this Xian Qigang fellow who she clearly has history with.
As soon as the idea comes though, I let it go. That's a pointless endeavour if ever there was one.
I mean, what am I going to do? Pretend to be someone I know nothing about for the rest of my life?
How would I even manage that? It took this girl all of two minutes to see right through me, how long would it take others?
Impersonating a person is easy in movies, but in real life there are so many details to remember; the way they talk, their mannerisms, their interests, their dislikes, the random, pointless things that happened in their life that will probably come up way more often than they really ought to.
I didn't even know this Xian Qigang's name until the girl mentioned it. How on earth am I going to figure out all that other stuff?
Not to mention, Xian Qigang apparently has a betrothal he has to get to. What, am I going to marry his wife too?
Which, speaking of, why does this guy have a nineteen-year-old who wakes him up with blowjobs when he has a betrothal lined up?
Is this just that kind of place, or is Xian Qigang just that kind of guy?
No matter, I decide after a moment. That's not important, the important thing is dealing with the girl before me.
"You're right," I admit. "I'm not Xian Qigang."
"Clearly," the girl says, looking me up and down. "And yet, that is his body, flowing with his qi. Therefore, you are either the most incompetent Body Snatcher in The Sunrise Empire, or you're something else."
"Body Snatcher?" I can't help but ask, and the question only deepens the girl's scrutiny of me.
"Who are you?" she asks again.
I open my mouth to answer, then sigh and close it.
"Look, this will be difficult for you to believe," I say finally. "Maybe even impossible to understand—" I brace myself for what will probably be the most ambitious attempt at a paradigm shift ever made in this reality "—but, I'm not from this world. I'm from a different universe. A different reality."
Expected as it was, the disbelief on her face is still a disappointment.
"You're right," she says. "That is difficult to believe."
I sigh, trying to hold back my frustration.
"Look, I get that this must sound insane to you," I say. "I mean, for a long time in my world people would definitely have looked at you crazy if you went around talking about alternate realities and other worlds, but I need you to believe me, they exist, and I really am—"
"I know they exist," the girl cuts me off.
I blink. "You do?"
"Everyone does," she says. "Cultivators strive their whole lives to ascend to a higher plane of existence that many believe is heaven. And our lower plane has countless mirror planes, and sometimes, things do slip through the cracks both ways."
Okay, now I'm confused. "If you know all of this, then what's the problem? What makes my claim so hard to believe?"
"Because, by all accounts, the creatures that slip through either way are always savage beasts; creatures so twisted by the Wild Qi between planes that their very existence is an abomination. And as unique as this situation is, you are no twisted abomination."
"But can't there be exceptions?" I ask. "I mean, there have to be exceptions. What about those cultivators who ascend? They switch planes, don't they get corrupted by Wild Qi or whatever?"
The girl gives me an unimpressed stare. "Comparing yourself to cultivators at the gates of heaven is beyond hubris," she says.
"Well, hubris or not, I must be an exception," I say. "Because, like you said I'm not a twisted abomination, and I know for a fact that I'm not from this world. My world has no qi, no cultivators, no twisted abominations from mirror planes."
"It doesn't?" the girl asks, eyeing me strangely.
"No, it doesn't. Over there our understanding of other realities is theoretical at best. No one, as far as I know, has ever actually accessed an alternate reality. In my world, qi and cultivators are the stuff of fiction, not real life."
"How do you make stories of them if they don't exist in your world?" she asks, and that actually stomps me.
"I don't know," I admit. "But, actually, it's more than that; this very scenario right now of me waking up in someone else's body in a world of cultivation is the premise of like a million webnovels back home. And I can't help but wonder if it's simply coincidence, or if it's something more."
The girl hums thoughtfully, then asks after a moment, "What are webnovels?"
"Hmm? Oh, um, they're online stories," I explain thoughtlessly.
She gives me a blank look.
Right, that doesn't help.
"Stories on the internet." That doesn't help either.
"The internet is a… okay, imagine that every book in the world was connected to every other book, and you could pick up any book and tell it what book you want to read. And, as long as that book you want to read was connected to this… worldwide web of books, the information on it would show on the book in your hand."
The girl looks awed. "And you say your world has no qi?" she asks.
"No, we don't. But we have science. That's how we made things like the internet."
"Science," the girl says testing out the word. "Can you do this science?"
"Um… not really?" I admit. "It takes years of study. And some natural talent. Not to mention materials that I don't even know how to begin to get my hands on."
In the stories, it's always super easy, barely an inconvenience for the protagonist to randomly start a technological revolution in a medieval world, but the reality of it is a whole other matter.
I mean, I couldn't even tell you how to go about building a simple power cell, much less something more complex. And that's before getting into the simple fact that technology can't really exist in a vacuum. Especially complex technology.
There's a reason why Earth has so many tech millionaires. Even something as simple as a wristwatch has so many parts that are made by many different people, likely with materials from different time zones.
In the age of overnight shipping and home deliveries, it's easy to miss, but in a world where the basic ideas for these technologies probably don't even exist yet, everything will need to be invented and designed from scratch. I might even end up needing to make the tools just to make the parts.
It's like that scientist said, 'To make an omelette from scratch, first you must invent a universe.'
While I think my thoughts, the girl looks thoughtful too, dwelling on my words about science requiring years of study, talent, and materials.
Finally, she looks up at me. "So, it's like cultivation," she says.
I'm about to shake my head no, when I think about it. Applying years of study, natural talent, and materials to the understanding and manipulating of seemingly arcane energies and powers.
"Huh. Yeah, I guess it is like cultivation," I say.
I never thought of it like that before.
The girl watches me silently for a minute, mysterious thoughts swirling behind her brown eyes, and right when I get so uncomfortable with the silence I want to say anything to break it, she says; "Come with me." And leads the way out of the room.
We walk through a hallway decorated with vases and ostentatious portraits of the face I'd seen in the mirror.
The smallest of the paintings are life-sized, and all of them feature Xian Qigang in noble, heroic poses with mountains and dragons in the background for good measure.
Huh. Okay.
We come across a maid cleaning one of the many vases lining the hallway, and the girl quickly bows as we pass.
"Good morning, Young Master," she says.
"Good morning," I say back, and the girl starts, before looking from me to the girl I'd woken up with weirdly.
I catch her looking, and she quickly averts her eyes, bowing even deeper.
Huh. Okay.
The girl leading me, whose name I really should ask, takes me to a door of thick, rich wood, and gestures me forward.
"Place your hand on it," she says.
A little confused, I obey, and as soon as I do, I hear a click.
"Open it," she says, and again, I obey.
The door swings open, and at my first look of the room, my mouth drops open.
See, it's been obvious to me this entire time that this Xian Qigang individual is crazy rich; the clues are everywhere.
Nothing quite drives in the Scrooge McDuck levels of wealth he apparently has though, like a literal room full of gold.
Seriously, it's like Fort Knox in here, with bars of gold stacked up to chest height, causing the room to glitter like a stripper's bum.
Weirdly enough though, despite all the obvious wealth in the room, what seems to be the most precious item stored here is a thin silver scroll with handles made of a rich brown wood.
It sits on a pedestal, covered in what I can only describe as a forcefield.
I walk up to it.
There's a strange energy that can only be qi coming from the scroll, and the black, bold words written on the outside help me understand why a scroll would have qi.
"The Path of the Glowing Noon Cultivation Method," I say, reading the words aloud.
It's in kanji, or a language like it, and I try not to dwell too much on the fact that I can apparently read a whole new language now.
"That's your cultivation method," the girl says. "It's peasant rank."
I make a face. "Peasant rank?" I can't help but ask. "Isn't this Xian Qigang guy like crazy rich? Why is he using a cultivation method that's ranked for peasants?"
"It isn't," the girl explains. "Peasants can't afford cultivation. Many cultivators can barely even afford a beast rank cultivation, and that is one rank down from peasant."
"Ah," I say in understanding. "I'm guessing that the ranks were named by the assholes at the top of society who look down on everyone else then. I mean, beast rank? Seriously? They're literally calling those who use it no better than animals."
The girl makes a noncommittal gesture.
"So, beast rank, peasant rank, I'm guessing there are others?"
"There are five ranks; beast, peasant, sage, noble and divine, each rank five times better than the rank before."
That catches my attention. "Five times!?" I ask. "Damn. So, assuming beast rank has a numerical value of one, then peasant rank is a five, sage rank is twenty-five…" I pause, trying to run the numbers mentally.
"Noble is one twenty-five, and divine six twenty-five," the girl finishes.
She's either good at math, or I'm not the first person to measure cultivation ranks with numbers.
"That's crazy," I say. "So, one divine rank cultivator is worth six hundred and twenty-five beast rank ones?"
"In principle," the girl says. "Although, there aren't many divine ranked cultivators."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because it is punishable by death to even look at divine rank cultivation materials, unless you are of royal blood, or have the permission of The Sunrise Empress herself," the girl says.
I shake my head. "Of course it is."
This is the problem with monarchies; entitled rulers.
I look back at the forcefield protected scroll on the pedestal, feeling the qi pouring from it.
If a peasant ranked cultivation manual feels this impressive to be around, then what would a divine rank one feel like?
"Can I touch it?" I ask the girl.
She shrugs. "It is yours," she says.
I stare at her weirdly.
The scroll isn't mine. She knows that. But if she doesn't have a problem with me handling it then, why not?
"How do I get through the—" I gesture at the forcefield.
"It's keyed to your qi," she says. "It will let you through."
Ah. Convenient.
Slowly, I reach through the field, feeling a slight tingling as my hand passes through.
Carefully, I pick up the scroll, feeling the power of it clearer now than ever before.
As I hold it up to my face though, something crazy… well, crazy-er happens.
In my mind's eye, like how it looks when you lose yourself in a memory, I see a screen.
1 – 500 (Beast Rank)
501 – 800 (Peasant Rank)
801 – 950 (Sage Rank)
951 – 999 (Noble Rank)
1000 (Divine Rank)
Roll: Yes || No
I observe the screen for several moments, then I look at the silver scroll in my hand.
I put it down and the screen disappears.
Carefully, I pick it up again, and my heart skips a beat as the screen reappears.
Is this what it looks like it is?
Because if it is then that's… crazy.
Roll: Yes || No
I choose 'Yes'.
Rolling…
962 (Noble Rank)
Reward: The Path of the Sun Emperor Cultivation Method
It takes my brain a minute to comprehend what just happened. And then it takes a minute more to truly grasp the enormity of it.
When it does though, there is only one thing I can say.
"Holy Shit."
CHAPTER THREE;; BLACKMAIL IS CRAP, BUT IT ALSO WORKS
"Beg your pardon, Young Master?" the girl asks.
I turn to her. "Um… nothing, just..." I hold up The Path of the Glowing Noon cultivation manual. "It feels really impressive."
I literally just did the xianxia equivalent of turning copper into gold, no way in hell am I telling that to anyone I haven't vetted beyond all reasonable doubt.
I suspect that the girl can tell that there's more to my reaction, but she either plays along, or she decides not to question it.
I'm thankful.
"So, uh," I hold up the scroll, "how much do one of these go for, anyway?" I ask the girl, totally naturally and with zero ulterior motives besides curiosity.
The girl thinks for a moment.
"All the wealth of your personal estate, excluding the manual itself, might be enough to buy someone a month or two of access to a cultivation manual of that rank," she says finally.
My jaw drops and I gaze across the literal roomful of gold.
"A month of access!? Wait, all of this is mine, I mean, Xian Qigang's, right?" I ask, needing to make sure, because if all this gold isn't enough to own it, then what is?
"The greatest wealth in the world will forever be cultivation," the girl says, sounding like she's quoting someone.
"That's a lot of wealth," I say, gaining new appreciation for the silver scroll in my hand, and for the noble rank reward I received.
How much would that cost?
"It is a lot of power," the girl says. "To own a cultivation method manual is to own the tool to raise an army."
I blink. "I hadn't thought of that," I admit.
"It's okay, Young Master," she says placidly. "You'll learn."
I give her a weird look.
"Is something the matter, Young Master?" she asks.
"You know I'm not your master, right?" I have to ask. "I'm not Xian Qigang. We've been over this."
"Of course you are," she says. "No one but Young Master Xian Qigang can access this room. Or pick up that scroll."
I set the scroll back down on its pedestal.
"You know that's only because…" my words fade out as realization starts to seep in. "Wait. Are you blackmailing me? Holy shit, you're blackmailing me, aren't you?"
"Shit is not holy, Young Master, and, no, I would never blackmail you," she says, looking like ice wouldn't melt in her mouth. "I am Young Master Xian's eternal and eternally faithful servant. May heaven have my head if ever I turn on you."
"What the… so, what, your plan is to gaslight me until I behave?" I ask.
The girl stares at me thoughtfully for a moment. "What is your plan?" she asks finally.
That throws me.
"I…" I flounder.
"You have none," the girl says, wasting no time. "You have nothing. You are in a world which, by your own words, your people can't even find; your body was either left behind or destroyed by the journey here; and now here you stand, locked in the body of a man with a family so powerful, he has wealth such as this even living in exile."
"Wait, this guy's in exile?" I ask.
The girl ignores the question. "This is the only thing you have," she says firmly.
Her bright, brown gaze pierces me with its sharp intellect.
"If you refuse to be Xian Qigang, then what will you be?" she asks.
The question hits me hard. And, to be honest, I don't have an answer.
Even so, I still have questions.
"So, what? I just pretend to be someone else my whole life? What happens when others notice like you did? How do I fool people like the Ping Matriarch whose daughter I'm supposed to be marrying? What do I do when—"
"There is no Ping Matriarch," the girl says. "And there's no betrothal. I made it up to catch you in your lie."
"Oh. Well, while that's a relief—" and it really is "—it still doesn't solve the problem. I can't just pretend to be someone else my whole life. What kind of life would that be?"
"And what kind of life do you think you can have if you don't?" she asks me. "Body Snatching is one of the most reviled acts in The Empire. The punishment is often fatal."
"But, you know I'm not a Body Snatcher. You practically said so yourself," I argue immediately.
She raises an eyebrow. "And you think they'll care? Let me be clear, if you run from this house with that face, I will be forced to report the events of this morning to the Xian clan, as is my duty. And, believe me, there will be nowhere in the world you can hide from them, and when they find you, it will be the end of you."
"And your solution is what?" I ask, anger beginning to boil in me. "Pretend to be a man I have no knowledge of until his family inevitably finds out and then we both get screwed?"
"I know Xian Qigang," the girl says. "I will teach you his history and his ways, all you have to do, is be him."
We stare each other down for several long seconds.
"Do I have a choice?" I ask angrily.
"We always have a choice, Young Master," the girl says. "Even when we wish we don't."
I scowl at her. "And what about you? What do you get out of this?"
"All I desire is to continue to serve Young Master Xian Qigang faithfully as I have been," she says with a deep bow.
"You seriously expect me to believe that you're blackmailing me because what, you just love the taste of my dick that much?" I ask disdainfully.
I expect the comment to get a reaction out of her, but it simply rolls off like water on a duck's back.
"You need me," she says. "And seeing as I've worked hard for my position and am quite fond of it, I need you.
"Now, I am willing to cast my lot with yours. Will you cast yours with mine?" She moves aside from in front of the door, which, I only now notice, she's been standing in front of this entire time. "Or will you take your chances out in the world?"
The demand is final.
This is it. I have to choose. Now or never.
I almost walk out. Not just because a big part of me prefers my chances out there to in here, but also because I really don't like the fact that this girl is trying to force my hand.
Blackmail is crap. I despise it on principle and knowing that I'll be giving her power over me if I stay only makes it worse.
On the flip side though, staying gives me power over her too.
If I leave now, she can simply contact the Xian clan and tell them all about the evil body snatcher who stole their son's body. But if I stay, she becomes the servant who helped a body snatcher assume Xian Qigang's life.
In the end, what really makes my choice for me is pragmatism. If I run, I'm in danger. If I stay, I'm still in danger. But if I stay, I have assistance, I have wealth, I have a roof over my head, and, most importantly, with this girl's help, I might never even get caught.
What do I have if I run though? Some strange power I barely understand? No, it is much better to stay.
"So, what? I'll be Xian Qigang and you'll be my servant?" I ask.
"Just as we have always been," she replies.
I sigh. "Very well then." I step forward, holding out a hand to shake. "Young Master Xian Qigang. Nice to meet you."
She eyes my outstretched hand with some curiosity, before she clasps both her hands and bows deeply.
"Meng Yi greets her Young Master," she says.
Ah! So that's her name.
CHAPTER FOUR;; THE PATH OF THE SUN EMPEROR
The following day is, oddly enough, the most interesting of my life that I can recall.
It's odd because, on the surface, it has no right to be, considering that Meng Yi has basically banned me from stepping foot outside my room until I can at least conduct myself in a manner even vaguely similar to Xian Qigang. Or, rather, 'my former self' as she's told me to think of him.
I don't know why she bothers though, truth be told. I have zero intention of being anything like that guy.
See, turns out our boy Xian Qigang kept a journal, and while the entries in it are sporadic at best (the last one being several weeks old), what is there paints the picture of a typical Young Master.
Which basically means that he was an awful, obnoxious, narcissistic piece of cow poop.
Of course, it takes some work to decode the delusional mini-rants that is much of the journal, but doing so reveals a man so awful, even his own family couldn't stand him, which was apparently why he was all the way out here, Commander of a tiny outpost that nobody but the locals cared about.
When I bring it up, Meng Yi informs me that he has (or I have now, I guess) a reputation in town so bad that most of the establishments I frequent now have mostly male staff, since the girls quit.
"Yeah, no," I say. "I can't be this guy."
"You are," Meng Yi insists.
"No, I'm not," I disagree. "This guy's a right wanker. God, I can't believe I'm actually glad he's dead. Have you read his journal?" I ask, holding the book towards her.
"I'd rather not," Meng Yi admits, looking like she almost feels the need to draw back from the book.
I give her an unamused look. "Hypocrisy is not a good look on you," I say.
The girl looks like she just barely resists the urge to scowl at me.
"You have to go back to being your old self, Young Master," she says. "Do you not remember what we're trying to do? We must be above suspicion."
"This guy literally joked about crippling a boy because a girl he had his eyes on liked that boy instead," I say slowly, needing her to understand every word. "He did it in front of her to make a point. Then he raped her in front of the boy he crippled to make another point." I shake the journal. "It's all in here."
Meng Yi closes her eyes, looking like she was familiar with the event I spoke of.
"Chang and Ju," she says. "That happened on your second week here."
"No, that happened on his second week here," I correct. "Because, I'm not him, and I'm not going to be him. Report me to his family if you want, but if surviving in this world means I have to be a supreme tosser who goes around town looking for puppies to kick and babies to steal candy from, then…" I hesitate, the weight of the declaration I'm about to make causing the words to hang in my throat for a moment.
I push through, meaning every word; "…then I don't think I care much about surviving."
Because, really, what would be the point?
My family's gone. All my friends are gone. Everyone and everything I've ever known and loved is a world I can't access away.
It's hard enough finding a reason to want to live, and now I have to scar myself emotionally and psychologically, doing things that will haunt me, and all for what?
Sorry to disappoint you, Meng Yi, but, I'm really not that attached to living.
I mean, yes, in the beginning, with all the shock and the confusion and the strangeness, I had been eager for a lifeline. Any lifeline.
But that was yesterday. Since then, I've had a whole day to marinate in the reality of my situation. I've gone to bed and woken to the dashed hope of not being back in my world.
Most importantly, I've come to understand just how much of a right git the person whose life I've stolen is.
Suffice to say, yesterday's me was an idiot. He had no idea what he was talking about and he really should stop writing checks with his mouth that future me has to cash.
Meng Yi stares at me for a long moment, a complicated cocktail of emotions stirring her features, then, finally, she rises and leaves the room, the door closing gently behind her.
I sigh, laying back on the fluffy bed.
Tosser he may be, but Xian Qigang has a bed fit for an emperor.
Wait… emperor.
The word tingles at a memory from yesterday; of the reward I'd gotten from that strange rolling power I'd used on the cultivation manual Meng Yi showed me.
I'd half forgotten about it until now, because Meng Yi had been with me almost the entire time. And when she wasn't with me, she'd left me with books to read, a qi primer and Xian Qigang's diary.
The qi primer had actually been a fun read, despite obviously being for... younger readers. It had taught me quite a bit about qi and cultivation.
Some of what it taught were either things that Meng Yi had already mentioned during my exhaustive questioning of her, or things that I was already expecting from my experience with xianxia webnovels, but I'd read the book cover to cover in one sitting nevertheless.
That was yesterday, and after dinner, which Meng Yi had brought to the room, we'd had a conversation late into the night talking about cultivators, cultivation, power levels, and even a little geography.
I'd gone to sleep after that, exhausted by the madness of the day, and it was when I woke up this morning, a couple hours ago that I'd decided to check out the journal.
I rather wish I hadn't.
Presently, my remembrance of the noble rank manual, brings the item back to mind. Literally. As in, I can see its name in my head.
The Path of The Sun Emperor Cultivation Method
"Okay," I mutter to myself, "so, I know it's there, but how do I get it out?"
Apparently, my desire to get the object is enough, and a scroll of the deepest royal purple, the same size as the only other cultivation manual I've seen, appears out of thin air and lands on my chest.
Immediately, I feel it's power.
Similarly to The Path of The Glowing Noon manual yesterday, this manual exudes qi too. Unlike that manual however, the qi emanating from The Path of The Sun Emperor is so thick and powerful that it damn near steals my breath away.
The purple scroll sits on my chest. Hot. Heavy. Like walking under the sun in oppressive summer heat.
Yesterday, during our extensive Q&A session, Meng Yi had, at my request, taught me how to sense qi, mine and that of the world around me.
The sense is rather distracting, but luckily, it generally sits at the back of the mind until focused on.
The qi coming from the manual feels more powerful than that of anything I've ever sensed. And, yes, I will readily admit that I've only sensed the qi of two people; Meng Yi and myself, but, all the same, the realization that a cultivation manual is technically more powerful than I am, is a sobering one.
I pick up the scroll, thrown for a moment by the light weight of it.
From its aura, I expected it to be heavy.
Failure
Cannot roll reward item.
I blink at the unprompted message.
So the RNG power from yesterday doesn't work with its own rewards, huh?
Makes sense, and to be honest, I'd rather expected it.
Ignoring the message, I sit up, observing the scroll; reading the familiar title written on the outside in golden kanji (or whatever they call it here), and running my fingers across the rich, thick purple paper and the brown wooden handles which hold it.
After a moment, I roll the scroll open to the first page.
Golden letters sit in the purple paper. They look Chinese... no, wait, actually they look Arabic… no, they don't, in fact, they look like Cyrillic script, or... no, these are hieroglyphs…
What the hell? They're changing.
Frustratingly enough though, I feel like I can understand them. Like, if I simply focus hard enough, everything will be clear.
Determined, I focus on the page, pinpointing on a singular, morphing line of text.
It changes, warps, twists, hurting my head just looking at it, but I don't give up, I focus and—
The Emperor stood on the path to heaven. One man facing the cosmos.
He would prevail. He knew this. All he needed was his crown.
It came to him, a star with the power to hold a dozen worlds in its orbit condensed into a simple band of fire and gold.
A simple band that was the totem of an Emperor.
He took it in both hands, feeling its power shake him to his very bones.
"HEAVY IS THE CROWN," he said. "AND UNEASY THE HEAD THAT WEARS IT."
He placed it upon his brow.
—and my soul screams.
I come to violently, Meng Yi snatching the cultivation manual from my hands and gently setting down the rolled up scroll on the bed beside me.
'What happened?' I try to ask, but I don't even get out the first syllable, my body spasming too much for breathing, much less talking.
"Shh," Meng Yi shushes me. "Don't talk, Young Master. Lay back."
'I feel hot,' I try to say and again fail.
I do feel hot. Ridiculously so. Like there's a furnace in my chest.
Hot, spasming, out of breath, and with a strange sort of pain that's feels not physical, Meng Yi lays me back on the bed and helps me stretch out.
She picks up the cultivation manual again, staring from it to me for a moment, before she slots it into the drawer by my bed.
"Hold on," she says. "I'll be right back."
She rushes out, and I lay on the bed panting and shaking and feeling stupid.
So much for hiding the rolling power from Meng Yi.
She returns barely a minute later, a tray in her hands, and I feel better enough that I sit up without any help.
Meng Yi sets the tray on the nightstand, then she hands me a small cup.
"That's a peasant rank qi pill," she explains. "It will help."
I stare at the smooth, round jade object in the cup.
It looks more like a bead than a pill, a big bead too; there's no way anyone is swallowing that thing without some major complications.
I tilt the cup, rolling the pill onto a trembling hand.
I sense its qi immediately, nowhere near as potent or as much as what I felt from the peasant ranked manual, but noticeable nonetheless.
1 – 500 (Beast Rank)
501 – 800 (Peasant Rank)
801 – 950 (Sage Rank)
951 – 999 (Noble Rank)
1000 (Divine Rank)
Roll: Yes || No
"Young Master Xian," Meng Yi calls, and I look up at her. "Swallow the pill," she says.
Roll: Yes || No
I roll.
Rolling…
490 (Beast Rank)
Reward: Nil
Ah. So when I get a roll lower than the object's rank, I get nothing.
Good to know.
"Young Master," Meng Yi says again, forcefully this time.
Right. Pill.
A little apprehensive due to its size, I put the pill in my mouth, and it immediately melts into a cool energy.
Surprised, I swallow, and the energy rushes down my throat and settles in my stomach, from where it spreads out, quenching that strange heat from my head all the way down to my toes.
I let out a slow breath, filled with a supernatural surge of vigour that settles the vestiges of my spasms and sharpens my senses like never before.
Bloody hell, I feel like I just injected concentrated Red Bull into my veins.
"I understand you're new to this, Young Master," Meng Yi says calmly, "so permit me to explain this; cultivation can be incredibly dangerous. Altering a preestablished cultivation even more so.
"In light of that, the next time you intend to try to tear down your cultivation and rebuild it two ranks higher, please, inform me beforehand. Okay?"
"That wasn't…" I sigh, then nod, feeling small and stupid.
"I suppose you want to know where that—" I gesture at the drawer she'd tucked the manual into "—came from."
"Yes," Meng Yi says. "But I can tell you don't want to say. So, permit me to ask you this, Young Master; did someone give it to you?"
I shake my head. "No."
She looks relieved for a moment, but then her gaze hardens again as she asks; "And however you got it, what did you sacrifice?"
I blink at that. Had I sacrificed anything?
I'm not really sure how this rolling thing works, but it doesn't feel like I lost anything to get the reward.
"I don't think I have to give anything," I say.
Meng Yi looks doubtful at that, but I clearly believe my own words, so she accepts it.
"Very well then. If Young Master is sure."
Rising, she packs up the tray.
"You should rest," she says. "The effect of the qi pill will wear out in a few minutes. You need sleep."
I feel as awake as I ever have, but I don't disagree. Meng Yi has proven herself to be knowledgeable in these matters.
Distractedly, I look out the huge windows, and I notice for the first time something that my mind has been too preoccupied to pick up before now; the light looks wrong.
"Meng Yi, what time is it?"
"It's almost sunset," she says, and my eyes widen.
It had been morning when I picked up the manual.
Seeing my expression, she nods understandingly.
"Rest," she says. "We will talk tomorrow. Goodnight, Young Master."
"Goodnight."
Meng Yi exits the room, door closing gently behind her.
Just like she said, in a few minutes, the energy from the pill begins to fade fast, and my eyelids begin to droop.
I decide to lay back, and I doze off as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Chapter Five;; The Path Of The Sun Emperor [Ii]
I wake the next morning, refreshed, hungry, and to the sight of Meng Yi walking in with a small table laden with food.
"You have to be a mind reader," I say.
"You cultivated for hours yesterday and ate nothing besides a qi pill, anyone in your shoes would be hungry," she says.
She sets the table down on the bed with me, and I check out the spread.
I don't recognize most of the dishes, but everything smells delicious and looks professionally made.
About to dig in, I notice Meng Yi standing to the side, head bowed.
"Are you just going to stand there like that the whole time?" I ask.
"I attend to your needs, Young Master," she replies.
Uh-huh. Right. That's not weird at all.
"Have you had breakfast?" I ask.
"No, Young Master," she replies.
"Oh, well, join me then. I'm sure there's enough for the both of us."
"I only brought chopsticks for you, Young Master."
Right.
"Well, can you get some more?" I ask slowly. "Because I feel uncomfortable having you stand there hungry while I eat."
Meng Yi stares at me for an uncomfortably long time, considering the simple offer I made.
Finally, she nods and walks out.
A couple minutes later, she returns with cutleries of her own, and I get another stare when she sees that I've waited for her return without eating.
She joins me on the bed, then clasps her hands and says with a small bow, "Thank you for the meal."
"Well, you prepared the meal," I say, "so, if anything thanks should go to you."
"In that case," Meng Yi says, "thanks really should go to Chef Po. He made the meal."
I blink. "Wait, the chef's name is Po?" I ask.
"Yes, it is," Meng Yi answers slowly.
I feel my amusement growing. "Please, don't tell me he's a chubby, clumsy guy with a heart of gold who's really into food and martial arts."
It's Meng Yi's turn to blink. "Not at all. No."
I tsk. "Would have been pretty cool if he was."
"May I ask, why?"
"Oh, there's this really popular… story in my world about this character named Po. He was a chef too. Right up until the greatest kung fu master in all the land chose him to be the legendary dragon warrior."
"The dragon warrior?"
"Yeah, the dragon warrior is the—"
And, before I know it, I've launched into the legendary tale of awesomeness that is Kung Fu Panda.
—❈—
Meng Yi
It is a strange thing, conversing with a stranger wearing the face of someone familiar.
You… forget. More often than you might think. Right up until a strange word, or a strange gesture, or perhaps a strange story about a panda martial artist destined to save the land from an evil leopard, reminds you that, no, the person before you is not the one you knew.
In moments like these, Meng Yi couldn't help but wonder who this person inhabiting the body of Xian Qigang was.
What was his name? What was his story? Did he have family? Friends? A job? What did he look like? Was he really who he said he was, or was he some other, potentially nefarious entity playing games that she couldn't possibly understand?
Did it change anything for her if he was the latter?
She'd talked a big game when they first met, but the truth of the matter was, the balance of power in their relationship did not favour her.
It favoured him. He might not see it yet, but that didn't change facts.
That was why she needed him. Just as much as he needed her, if not more.
Meng Yi was a nobody. Worse, she was a nobody who was well-known to be the trusted Manager of Xian Qigang's estate. And while it might look like the Xian family had forgotten about their wayward son's existence, that was far from the truth.
Meng Yi had no idea who their informants were, but she knew they existed, because, twice had a Qi Realm servant from the main family shown up to "see how the Young Master is faring," and both times, said servant—a short woman named Pan Cai who seemed to be perpetually annoyed with the world—had been fully informed of Xian Qigang's activities without ever needing to confer with Meng Yi.
The woman hadn't even bothered to make the effort to keep Meng Yi unaware that Xian Qigang, and herself by extension, were under surveillance.
Being under surveillance by people she hadn't identified made running off with Xian Qigang's wealth a risky proposition at best. And reporting his current circumstances to his family meant giving up the position she'd sacrificed so much to get.
Neither of these were palatable to her, so here she was, trying to make the most of a bad situation.
Unfortunately for her, Xian Qigang the former was a much simpler creature to manage than his replacement.
He was a self-absorbed narcissist. And what it had mostly taken to keep him on her side was to keep him well-fucked and his ego well-stroked.
His replacement, on the other hand, was a more nuanced individual who honestly looked like he wouldn't appreciate sycophancy.
The longer she knew him, the more she began to suspect that what this new Xian Qigang wanted and needed was friendship. A true companion to walk beside him.
He did not know how to be waited on. He didn't want to be fawned over. He was scared, and he was lonely, and he wanted a friend.
More important than what he wanted though, was what he didn't want, and he did not want to be Xian Qigang.
It had been a strange feeling for Meng Yi, seeing that face, hearing that voice, express disgust for the actions of Xian Qigang; it was almost as strange as being looked at with those eyes without feeling a strong urge to bathe.
Luckily for them both, thanks to the noble rank cultivation manual he'd pulled out of… somewhere, yesterday (a fact she really didn't want to dwell on too much), Meng Yi had come up with a plan that just might get them both what they wanted; for her, an acceptable replacement for Xian Qigang, and for him, a reason to not have to be Xian Qigang.
—❈—
Xian Qigang
Despite my recounting of the first of the Kung Fu Panda movies, with many digressions to explain the myriad details of the universe and such that she doesn't understand, breakfast doesn't take too long.
Since I can tell that she's not too invested in the adventures of the dragon warrior, most likely due to my lacking narrative capabilities, I round up the story soon enough and, after a moment of silence, ask, "What do we do now?"
Meng Yi cocks her head in question.
"What I said yesterday, I mean it. I refuse to be Xian Qigang. I can't. So, in light of that, where does that leave us?"
Meng Yi says nothing for a moment, and when she finally speaks, her words sound like an arbitrary shift in the topic of conversation: "Young Master Xian always hated having a peasant rank cultivation," she says. "He considered it to be something fit only for peasants."
I blink, temporarily thrown by the randomness of the statement, but then I recover, waiting to see where she's going with this.
"For someone from a family with members who have Royal permission to cultivate at the divine rank, he saw it as another way his family tried to keep him down and smother his genius," Meng Yi continues.
"Uh-huh," I say dubiously. "I'm guessing in reality he was actually not a genius at all, and he was only given a peasant rank cultivation because he simply wasn't worth the expense of anything higher?"
Meng Yi's only response is a small smile and a noncommittal gesture.
She might as well have rented out a giant billboard with a colossal 'yes' on it, honestly, because, from the little about cultivation I've learned, I know that lower rank cultivation resources do absolutely nothing for higher rank cultivators.
So, basically, if Xian Qigang's family had given him sage or noble rank cultivation, they would have then needed to also give him sage or noble rank cultivation supplies to grow that cultivation.
Considering how expensive everything cultivation related seems to be, and considering that his family would rather send him off to the boonies than put up with him, that loser is lucky he even had a peasant rank cultivation in the first place.
Hell, if it had been up to me I would have left him without a cultivation.
Let that dumbass see what life is like for normal people.
"The rank of his cultivation was a sore point for Young Master Xian," Meng Yi continues, "and being sent here didn't help.
"I told you about your position as Commander of the nearby outpost, yes?"
I nod.
"There are maybe two dozen peasant rank cultivators here in Silver Springs, all of them people who might as well be paupers compared to Xian Qigang," Meng Yi says. "Of them all however, no peasant rank cultivator got on the Young Master's nerves like Vice Commander Xiuying.
"She was the one slated to take over after the death of the last Commander, a man who was her father in all but blood. But, due to the Xian family pulling strings, you came here and took the job she'd worked years for."
I nod in understanding. "So, it's bad blood that goes both ways."
"Yes," Meng Yi concurs. "But you must understand, Xiuying is your subordinate. She is a woman who clawed her way up from the gutters of Rainbow City. And, on top of all that, she is a cultivator at the second layer of the Sprouting phase of Foundation Realm."
Thanks to the little I know about cultivation layers and such, it takes me a moment to understand, but when I do, everything makes sense.
Cultivation in this world is somewhat more complex than in some of the stories I'm familiar with.
On this world, there are three realms of cultivation: Foundation Realm, Qi Realm, and Domain Realm.
Each realm has three phases, also called stages, and each of these phases have five layers.
For the first of the realms, Foundation, the three phases are Ignition, Weaving, and Sprouting.
Ignition phase is the very first step on the journey of cultivation. It is the phase Meng Yi sits at the fourth layer of, and, according to her, its members are barely cultivators because they have no cultivation method yet.
In Ignition phase, a cultivator ignites their qi and tempers their meridians to handle the strain of a cultivation method.
At the peak of it, their bodies are ready, and to advance to Weaving (the phase I apparently sit at the fifth layer of), they must learn a cultivation method.
A cultivation method connects a cultivator's meridians in a pattern unique to the method (hence the 'weaving' in the name), and as their meridians adapt better to the patterns of the method, they grow within the phase.
Complete adaptation brings advancement into Sprouting phase, named thus because, much like a seed sprouting from the dirt to reach for the sun, so too is this the phase where a cultivator truly begins their quest to reach heaven.
All of that is secondary to what Meng Yi said though, because the primary thing is power, and there is a clear boost in power upon advancement to a higher phase.
According to Meng Yi, the boost is as great as (if not more than) a step up in cultivation rank.
In other words, a five times boost at minimum.
So, with this Xiuying at the second layer of Sprouting phase, while having the same cultivation rank as Xian Qigang, who was only at the fifth layer of Weaving, there's no question about it. She's stronger.
"I can't imagine he liked that very much," I say.
"No, he didn't," Meng Yi agrees. "He hated that he couldn't intimidate her; hated that everyone liked and respected her more than they did him. He despised that he wasn't obviously better than some peasant."
"And he blamed it on his cultivation," I guess.
Meng Yi nods.
"Every now and again, he would write home, demanding a higher rank cultivation."
"Guessing that didn't work out too well for him," I say.
"Not at all. In fact, after two years of such letters, his mother became so aggravated that she threatened to strip him of the family name and all of his wealth if he ever dared to ask again."
I snort. "Nothing spoilt, rich kids fear more than losing Mummy's money," I say. "What a loser."
"You realize that this is your wealth we're talking about?" Meng Yi asks casually, and my smile withers.
She laughs at my expression; a small, cute sound that makes me stare.
It's a nice laugh.
Looking almost self-conscious at my stare, Meng Yi comports herself and continues; "Anyway, upon receiving his mother's threat, Xian Qigang descended into a rage unlike I'd ever seen from him, and, before I could talk him down, he grabbed his sword and marched off into the mountains, saying he needed to kill something.
"It was six days before he returned, dirty, sulking, and with his sword missing."
"What happened?" I ask curiously.
"My guess is he lost his way; misplaced his sword and starved for days," Meng Yi says simply, eyes alight with something like delight at the memory.
"He must have come across a landmark or something that pointed him the right way in the end, because on the sixth day, he slinked in at midnight. I bathed him, fed him, and put him to bed. That was four days ago."
I stare at Meng Yi, my jaw literally hanging open at just how ridiculous Xian Qigang was as a human being.
Interesting as this story is though, there is a question that needs to be asked. "Why are you telling me all this?"
Meng Yi's brown eyes glow once again with that sharp intellect I'm becoming more familiar with. "Because, I have a plan," she says. "And it only works thanks to the noble rank manual you have sitting in your drawer."
Meng Yi begins to detail her plan, and the more she talks, the more I begin to understand exactly how devious this young woman is.Last edited: Oct 15, 2025 Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Agnes-sama, Hurrock, Sckribe and 1,043 others