Finding myself sitting on a small cushion in front of a low table, I am incredibly uncomfortable. Across from me is the physician sitting as calm and proud as a saint with his back straight, legs crossed in front of him, and his hands placed gently on his thighs.

I, on the other hand, am squirming trying not to slide off the pillow, struggling not to slouch while constantly adjusting my seating position. My hands are constantly pushing on the floor as I tip this way and that overcompensating for my lack of balance.

It turns out, breaking into the Mortal Foundational Realm did many great things for the body. But because I had no experience of physical foundation to speak of, my body was getting more foreign to me as it was slowly filling with qi.

Physician Bing’s method of correcting this, after watching my struggles in bemusement, was to make me sit straight and pour my own cup of tea without spilling. It was a lot harder than you might think.

After several grueling minutes I am only barely able to pour myself a cup of tea from a light green, jade teapot into a matching cup no larger than my fist.

“Now then,” Physician Bing begins, “I believe you wanted answers. I will answer three questions for you. After that, if you wish for any more answers, we can come to an arrangement. Agreed?”

“Just three?” I grumble and then blurt out, then, realizing my mistake, shout, “That wasn’t directed to you! That was rhetorical!”

Sighing, Physician Bing states, “I’m not an idiot, boy. I know a rhetorical question when I hear one. We are having a conversation, not a battle of wits.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.” I scratch my head guiltily feeling as though I had slighted the physician with my outburst.

My problem now is that I don’t know what I actually want to ask. There’s plenty to ask, but with only three questions I don’t know which are the most important. Furthermore, I don’t know which questions would be best to ask the physician and which would be best to use the Omega Browser of Heaven’s Gaze in order to figure out.

Eventually, my mind turns away from ‘important’ things and toward the more mundane. I figure the biggest problem I have right now is that I know nothing of the culture surrounding this new place.

So I ask, “What’s it like living here?”

Physician Bing rubs his hand through his beard and says, “Clarify. I can tell you many things, but I don’t know what you are asking.”

I think for a minute before saying, “Where I’m from, we live in a Democracy where everyone is supposedly equal. As long as we don’t break the law or forget to pay our taxes, and we have enough time and money, we can go where we want, when we want. A lot of stores are open all the time, there are plenty of different clubs you can go to for hooking up, though I’m too young for that, or actually hanging out and learning stuff, and the legal system is supposed to apply to everyone equally.

So, I guess what I’m asking is what the lifestyle is like here? Am I going to get shot or stabbed for looking at someone wrong or will I be treated fairly? I know I look different from everyone I’ve seen so far, but is this place, I don’t know, civil enough that normal people will ask questions before they go nuts over a foreigner?”

“I see,” the old man begins. “Well, from your description it would seem there are some similarities between my home and yours. I have only ever heard the word ‘democracy’ used in intellectual settings. We are in the Shi Empire. Specifically, we are in the South Border City which itself is located in the Southern Kingdom. The citizens of this city owe their allegiance to Marquis Qiang Damu who owes his allegiance to King Wei.

Inside of the Empire, each person is classified according to a specific standard. In a sense, all people are equal in that this standard applies equally. In practice, this standard creates a sharp divide nearly impossible to cross.

First, there is the Imperial family. Barring interference of the four great sects, their rule is absolute. Then there are the four Imperial Dukes. These are also known as the kings of the Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western Kingdoms. At the same level as the four Imperial Dukes are the four great sects. There are complicated politics on this level that I won’t get into, but just know that your life is forfeit if you become a nuisance to any of these parties.

Below the four great sects and the four Imperial Dukes are the nobility of the individual monarchies. With equal, sometimes greater, power to the nobility are cultivators of exceptional talent. They are officially held in less regard when related to the nobility, but the reality is that they hold more prestige and, conditional on their own savvy, more political influence as well.

The situation is more complicated when one considers that the nobility also practice cultivation. Relatively speaking, the more powerful the cultivators within one noble family the greater their position in society. This is unofficial, of course. Officially, all people are judged based on their merit.

Which brings up the last three categories. Cultivators, citizens, and non-citizens. According to the words of the Emperor, cultivators and non-cultivators alike are equal. Whether or not the Emperor believes this is unknown. Nobody else does.

Then there are the non-citizens. Generally, these people are killed on sight.”

I feel my face pale at his words and the physician chuckles. “Relax. First of all, you bear no resemblance to any of the Empire’s enemies. Second, you are, as of your joyous excursion to the baths, a cultivator.”

“Guess there’s something for running headfirst into the unknown, isn’t there?” I reply, unsure how I feel.

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I spend some time to digest everything he’s told me. When I first heard that he would limit me to three questions, I thought it was because he was going to try to get me on the details of that arrangement he was talking about. Now? I think he just didn’t want to spend several hours answering all of my questions in more detail than I expected.

My next question is, I think, a more simple one. “Why did you bribe Sergeant Lin for my sake?”

“Is that how it appeared to you?” Physician Bing chuckles and I nod my head.

“It’s better to say that I paid him for bringing me an interesting find and for putting my needs above those of his captain’s. You were just a convenient excuse in that he could accept the money for a service rendered, rather than receiving payment for going behind a city official’s back.”

“That… is actually a lot less duplicitous than I had imagined. At first I was worried that you were some sort of criminal getting ready to harvest my organs or something.” My actual thoughts were several shades worse, but I’m glad they don’t seem like they will come to fruition. The only thing bothering me now is why I am considering an ‘interesting find’ for a physician… outside of the obvious reasons, of course.

Physician Bing scoffs at my response and I almost think he is about to laugh before his face settles into a passive look of calm and curiosity.

“What’s your last question, boy? Or would you prefer the name Lan Jin now?” I’m surprised by the question.

I used it at the bathhouse because I didn’t want to be so impersonal with someone who was getting screwed over because of me, but at the same time it doesn’t feel like a name that belongs to me.

Of course, the name describes me reasonably enough with my hair and eye color, so there’s no point not to use it until I can remember my actual name.

“Yeah, I’ll go by Lan Jin until I can remember my name.”

“Very well. Third question, Lan Jin.”

“Why would you help me?” I ask, straightforward and to the point.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve helped you yet.” Physician Bing responds and I wonder whether or not that’s true. “What I’ve done,” he begins to clarify, “is put you in a position where I can learn more about you and your circumstances. Originally, your ability to somehow gather information without getting caught intrigued me and I wanted to know if you were a spy. Now? I have realized you have a potentially priceless ability and I would like to form a… partnership, of sorts, with you.”

“A partnership?” I ask, shocked. “What kind of partnership would you form with a guy you just met?”

“The mutually advantageous kind,” Physician Bing responds. “Put simply, I want the knowledge you can find. In exchange, I believe I can offer you the knowledge you need to survive in the Empire.”

“That sounds good,” I reply, “but that doesn’t really tell me anything. What kind of information do you want?”

“What other kind of information would a physician and pill refiner need?”

“You want me to find medical information for you?” I’m surprised, but only a little. After asking me to find some random pill recipe, this guy seems like the type of medical nut that cares more about his profession than anything else.

“Mostly, yes. In the Southern Kingdom there is a distinct lack of pill refining heritage. Every new recipe I concoct takes hundreds, possibly thousands of hours of research, preparation, and calculations before I even begin to refine any medicinal ingredients.

Everything I create is of high or perfect quality, but the pills themselves are of a lower tier than anything I could get at the auctions. As such, my pills commonly go to the soldiers, weaker cultivators with fewer resources, and the occasional oddball curious about my pills.

I help the people around me, but I lack the knowledge and the time to create truly effective pills. Pills that can compete against the miraculous pills with exorbitant prices charged by the Pill Pavilion and the crowd-inflated prices of the Golden Sun Auction House.”

Physician Bing pauses and collects himself, his eyes going from a fierce gaze to a sad one, “In my youth I made two mistakes that severed my path of cultivation. The first was rushing through the Mortal Foundation Realm without being aware of the steps I had to take to solidify my foundation. The second was relying on poor quality pills to refine my cultivation after I abolished it and started anew.

In my life, I have failed as a cultivator. I had the potential to reach heights greater than anything the Shi Empire could hold. Yet my immaturity and foolishness destroyed my chances before I could even try to travel my own path.”

Physician Bing looks into my eyes and says, “If you would help me, you would have my gratitude. If that’s not enough, then the resources and guidance I can provide during your cultivation could be considered payment. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

To be honest? Yes! But of course I don’t say it aloud. I need some time to consider things objectively.

In response, I say, “Your proposal sounds agreeable to me, but I would like to discuss the actual terms of the committing to anything. I want to know what I would be getting myself into.” My unspoken words: I don’t know you or particularly trust you.

“Of course,” Physician Bing nods with the hint of a smile on his face. “What terms would you like to discuss?”

“First off, I want to know what kind of arrangement this would appear to the public as. Is this a business arrangement? A charitable one? Will my aid be bringing you large amounts of money or would any potential proceeds we make go right back into making additional medicines for people?”

This is just the first of my many, many questions. The business aspects are simple: He intends to make some profit with pill refining and various medical techniques, but he wants to cut off his, or our, potential gains to help as many people as possible in the community. However, he intends to sell pills through the Golden Sun Auction House in order to collect enough money to continue funding his endeavors.

As far as the split in profits go, he asked that I ignore any and all profits coming from treatments and what I decided to term as his ‘subsidized pills’ because he uses them to fund his more charitable services in the first place. In return he’d offer me his services as a pill refiner and senior cultivator as well as his knowledge as a person of this Empire.

That being said, the conversation got a little tricky when we discussed the profits related to pills he sold to the Golden Sun Auction House. He was resolute in not handing over any of his personal profits that he made even if they came from the pill recipes I ‘divined’ for him.

In place of sharing these profits, he would teach me how to refine pills myself. That way I would still have the potential for significant income.

Of course, I might have been able to fight about this point, but refining pills did seem like a valuable skill to have. Even if it was likely possible for me to discover how to do it for myself using the Heaven’s Gaze, that would leave me without training resources or a place to live in. Which brings us to the next points.

Outside of Physician Bing’s guidance, I would be provided with lodgings in one of his guest houses as well as a monthly stipend and various training resources to use as I wish.

In essence, I’m getting a place to live, knowledge, and a small salary. In exchange, I’m browsing the internet.

It might be true that Physician Bing has the potential to capitalize on this deal far better than me, but I am willing to lose out on the immediate gains of our partnership in order to maximize my own future prospects.

Sure, he did get me a little bit on the sob story, and it might have been his intention to do so while telling me, but I wanted to make sure that I gave myself the best chances in the future. I’d need someone who has already made the mistakes I want to avoid if I am going to do that. Of course, having somewhere to sleep is the most important part.

Naturally, I agree to the arrangement.