Chapter 19
Xianxia Realpolitik 101
Mount Hua. The sect's name was very familiar to Jon. This world really was a carbon copy of the books he used to read. What if the authors of those books got isekai'd too? Jon mused, the thought seeming not so far fetched.
As the woman told her story, the other villagers leaned in, their ears perked, clearly itching to add their own flourishes to the tale. Jon noted their eagerness with a wry smile. Observing the animated expressions around him. Man, gossip really is the village's version of Netflix, huh?
She continued, pride evident in her voice, "The chief hails from the Zhen family, who have been the protectors of Zhilan Village and the Shanjing Mountains for generations."
Jon nodded, absorbing the information with a newfound interest. Oh, so he’s a young master, huh?
This revelation painted the Chief in a different light. He had braced himself for the typical xianxia trope—some arrogant little prick young master with a fuse shorter than his dingdong and a penchant for starting drama at the slightest provocation. But Chief Zhen Wu was nothing of the sort; he was approachable, seemed genuinely invested in the well-being of his people, and completely lacked that trademark haughty, holier-than-thou young master "do you know who I am?" demeanor Jon had been expecting.
The woman, noticing Jon's thoughtful expression, smiled. "Yes, it's not what outsiders usually expect. Our Chief, despite his lineage, has always been one with the people. He trains with the hunters, works with the farmers, and even discusses future plans with everyone, no matter their status."
Jon’s preconceived notions began to crumble as he watched the Chief interact with the villagers—his ease and laughter, his casual dismissal of formalities—it was all so refreshingly... normal?
Completely mentally stable, and downright likeable. What a concept, Jon mused. He watched as Chief Zhen Wu dismounted, handing his horse off to a young attendant before joining a group of elders.
Li Xin couldn't resist jumping into the conversation, what a surprise.
"And mind you, Master Zhen Wu is a cultivator! The strongest man around here. He's been a prodigy since he was a boy!" His voice carried admiration and a touch of boastfulness, as if reflecting on the chief’s prowess added to his own status. They're really slobbering all over this guy's knob, aren't they? Jon thought.
Intrigued, he asked a question that had been nagging at him. "Is there a reason why he is not in the Mount Hua Sect anymore?"
Another villager, an older man with a deeply lined face that spoke of years under the sun, chimed in, "That's because at the death of his uncle, the previous chief, Master Zhen Bo, the master was the sole inheritor. The empire bestowed upon him all the lands his uncle previously owned. He came down from Mount Hua to manage it."
That was odd, Jon thought. In every xianxia narrative he knew, a cultivator’s ultimate goal was to ascend beyond the mortal coil, striving and striving until they finally ascended to immortality.
The pursuit of ever-increasing power was supposed to be pretty much their entire reason for being, to the point where nothing - not even entire mountains made of gold bars or whatever - could ever make a real cultivator stray from that path of infinite level grinding...right?
The thought lingered in Jon's mind, unsettling, to say the least. He had assumed this world mirrored the xianxia worlds he'd read about in novels, but was that really the case? Truthfully, everything had not strayed too far from his expectations, but then again, his knowledge of this world was superficial at best.
Jon decided to take advantage of the gathering to learn more about this world. Maybe understanding the social dynamics here would give him clues about navigating its complexities, especially given the peculiarities he’d noticed about the cultivators and their relationship with the common folk.
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"So, you like cultivators, Mister Li Xin?" Jon asked his question directly to the one villager he knew would eagerly spill everything he knew.
Li Xin, visibly pleased by the respectful address, beamed, a flush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat awkwardly before responding, "Well, that is a... complicated question. You see, kid—"
kid? Jon's eyebrow twitched at the term, but he chose not to interrupt, eager to hear Li Xin's perspective.
"I view cultivators generally in a good light, at least those of the orthodox faction of the Jianghu*. They, along with the imperial ones, are the only ones truly good to normal people, like Master Zhen Wu here," Li Xin explained, gesturing towards the chief, who was now deep in discussion with some of the elders.
The villagers around them nodded in agreement, particularly the older ones, who seemed to hold a deep respect for the structured hierarchy and moral codes purportedly upheld by these 'orthodox' cultivators.
Jon mulled over these insights. The distinction between 'orthodox' and 'unorthodox' factions was a common theme in xianxia tales, but hearing it described through the lens of real people who had to deal with its consequences? That added a whole new layer of nuance to the typical good guy vs bad guy narrative.
Huo Zheng's cautionary words echoed in Jon’s mind: Do not trust anyone, not even the orthodox faction. Do not make my mistake!
That warning was stark, and Jon couldn't help but wonder about the story behind those words. If someone as powerful as Huo Zheng had been captured and held captive for years, betrayal was not just a possibility—it was likely.
Great, I'm in the middle of a political quagmire, Jon realized with a sinking feeling. The politics of cultivators weren't just about power struggles fought on secluded peaks or hidden valleys; they trickled down to affect everyone, even seemingly inconsequential villagers like those in Zhilan.
To verify his deductions, he turned back to Li Xin, who seemed ever eager to discuss the broader strokes of their world. "So, what do you think of the empire?" he asked, casually picking up a twig and peeling its bark as he awaited the response.
Li Xin’s face brightened as he spoke of the empire. "Thanks to the emperor and the Orthodox faction's alliance, peace has reigned at a level not seen since the Martial Lord's era. We are truly grateful for that."
Leaning closer, as if to shield his next words from prying ears, Li Xin’s voice dropped to a whisper. "But, I think what they say about the emperor might be true."
Around them, Qingshan and a few of the villagers sighed or shifted uncomfortably.
Jon’s curiosity peaked, and he leaned in, mirroring Li Xin’s conspiratorial posture. "And what do they say about the emperor?" he asked, his voice low.
"They say the real emperor, from centuries ago, was killed during the war and replaced by... a look-alike. The current emperor is said to be his descendant!" Li Xin glanced around nervously as he divulged the rumour, his voice barely a breath.
Before Jon could respond, a rather beautiful woman, the same one that had previously nudged at him, slapped Li Xin sharply on the head. "Your fool mouth is going to get you disappeared one of these days, you damned idiot!" she scolded.
Rubbing his head, Li Xin retorted, "Don't bang me over the skull like that, you crazy woman! What's wrong with you?!"
His wife? No. She's way out of his league for that. Undoubtedly. Jon mused internally, half expecting Li Xin to actually be her husband.
He sat on a big rock, the twig in his hands forgotten as he pieced together the snippets of information. The empire and the orthodox faction Li Xin admired were working hand-in-hand. This alliance ostensibly protected the lands and maintained peace, likely against threats from the demonic cult and so-called unorthodox factions. But at what cost?
And Huo Zheng—his warning made all the more sense now.
If he had somehow become inconvenient or problematic to this finely tuned alliance, removing him would have been necessary. The idea left a bitter taste in Jon's mouth. The politics of this world were as potent and dangerous as any physical threat.
Jon chuckled softly to himself, All those hours spent buried in novels were paying off in unexpected ways. Politics, power, betrayal—themes as old as time, seemed to be present in this world just as they were in his own.
It was indeed a well-structured society, which, while fascinating, also spelled difficulty for an outsider like himself trying to navigate its intricacies. He knew his next steps had to be calculated and informed.
Yulian, the mysterious woman who might be a fellow transmigrator, was a lead he needed to pursue for insights. And then there was the old man at the market putting off serious cultivation vibes—his possible status made him another intriguing figure worth investigating. Or perhaps actively avoiding him might be wiser.
As these thoughts occupied his mind, another practical concern surfaced—access to more knowledge.
Glancing at Qingshan, who was busy coordinating the setup for the evening's feast, Jon seized the moment. "Uh, is there a library in this village?" he asked casually, hoping to sound nonchalant.
Qingshan turned to him, a look of mild surprise on his face. "Yes, there is a little one here. Do you know how to read?" he inquired.
Jon nodded, adding a bit of flair to his backstory. "Oh, yes, I learned while traveling with my father," he said, impressing even himself with how naturally the lie came out. It seemed the necessity of survival in this world was sharpening his skills in deception.
"Can I go read there?" Jon pushed, trying to gauge Qingshan's reaction to his request.
"Of course, it is open to everyone," Qingshan responded with an approving nod. "Although, I would advise you to formally ask the Chief tonight. It's proper etiquette, especially since you're new here."
Jon thanked Qingshan, appreciating the advice.