Yung gave the Flareful Empress his undivided attention for five whole seconds before he felt the most annoying itch in his ear. So he started cleaning it with a quill. As he did so, the violet-haired lady stared back with equal parts contempt and disregard.

“Kii?”

I know, Silky. But I'm new at this, okay? Damn, they were ignoring me. She had to ruin that; stupid freaky violet-haired thot.

“Kyu…”

Tsk, yes, maybe they weren't ignoring me with Nyanya using me as a bolster, but at least they stayed quiet.

Yung was not a master of verbal jiu-jitsu either. He could delve deep into trivia for hours on end, taking other philosophers’ philosophies like they were his own. But informal debates were not his forte.

So he decided not to engage, showing the most nonchalant exterior possible.

He removed the quill from his left ear, blew the wax away, and started cleaning the other one too. Su Yafeng kept fanning, and Su Nanya kept pouting.

The picture of not giving any fucks to perfection.

In reality, Yung was panicking.

Oh shit they’re staring at me oooh shit. Om in, om out. W-why does it feel so different when hundreds of thousands of people are looking at me?… now that I think about it, hundreds of thousands is a big number.

“Kuuuky?”

Well, I thought I was good at being the centre of attention! That’s why I gave in when Nyanya insisted I be her seat, instead of me sitting with Uncle Maque. Shit, that was a big freakin’ miscalculation.

“Kii!”

No no no! If it was one-to-one or with a heavily prepared script like that time with the Youjin Clan and the Blood Spirit Contract, I could speak! But this is bigger than a hundred Ted talks at once. Do you see how many eyes—I can’t think. Why can’t I think?

“Keeyueueue!”

No, I am not feeling shy and self-conscious because Nyanya is leaning on me in public, wearing a bikini dress! Fine, maybe a little bit… I am new at this dating and PDA thing.

“Kii!”

I don’t know anything about this Flareful Empress, Silky. I wish I had some cool witticisms to respond with, but my mind is empty right now—why are they still staring!!!

<Has a fox nibbled on your tongue, oh silent servant of ours? The cadence of your heart reeks of trivial turmoil.>

Speaking of the devilish vixen, the floating 'screen' in his vision changed, a new line popping up. He kept digging into his ears as he tried to calm his nerves, and felt the vixen’s small body shift slightly.

In the previous days, Yung had gotten the communicator token to work partially. At least the parts with the hybrid of light transmission and jade scroll tokens, like an augmented reality magical USB stick that transferred information between renyao rather than computers.

But the screen was wonky, with uneven lines and weird colours. It had a trapezoidal shape rather than rectangular, and the top-left intersection had a curve for some reason. He couldn't yet implement the thought commands he was adapting from the jade scroll tokens. So, for now, gesture controls with active qi manipulation were the only way to make it work other than for 'typing,' for which thinking worked fine for some reason.

As he concentrated on the communicator’s UI, his nerves started to calm.

He moved his fingers, tapping the rickety AR keyboard, and a line of text appeared on the ‘screen’. Then it deleted itself. He tried again and wrote back to her foxiness, <What's up with this old hag?>. He clicked the lopsided 'send' button. The text block got cut off in the middle, and he tried again. It worked the third time. <They’re bullying me! Help me, Nyanya!>

He cast his quivering eyes at his lady, and the maiden scrunched her small nose, her fingers moving at cosmic speed.

… man those are some fast fingers; Wonder what else she can do with’em…

A wall of text appeared. He read through the huge paragraph, which had no line breaks, and then panicked even more. He coughed, the sound of which was carried far and wide by the fanciful wind, and there were some loud smirks from the crowd.

Yung glanced at Su Yafeng, who was the very personification of bored.

This maid keeps grudges for too long! All I did was tell her about proper Victorian Maid clothing…

“Kyu~”

Ok yes, now I know a lot about this Flareful Empress. Damn this hag is nuts. That ducal bastard, on the other hand...

“Kii!”

Sorry, still no witticisms.

“Kyu?”

Huh? Explain that to me.

Kiiu kii kyeoi kiyu! Kyueue kyu kiii ku keou!!

….That’s… not a bad idea. Actually, that’s a great idea! You know what? The people have the right to know. And sometimes being a Julian Assange is way better than being a Ricky Gervais. After all, honesty do be the best policy.

“Kii?!”

You wouldn’t understand. In this specific case, honesty is the way better policy than this crazy purple hag’s privacy policy.

Silky's said his brain hurt, so he stopped chirping. At this point, the panic had left Yung. He put the quill away, feeling mighty relaxed and perhaps overconfident.

…or that might be because of the soft pudding-like body leaning onto him, giving him a misplaced rush of dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.

For some reason, the venue was still silent. Even the incessant complaints had stopped; only the wind and the leaves rustled, daring to not follow tradition.

And it was tradition, Yung belatedly realised, where the subjects awaited the high monarch to speak after their own pieces had been said. They weren’t really staring at him—at least not everyone—but at the vixen princess who had been respectfully addressed by the Flareful Empress at the start of this harassment.

Yung rolled his eyes, feeling ridiculous that the sudden bullying had caught him so off guard. Om in, om out. He sighed, and once more the sound travelled all through Dim gold city. He looked at Miss Maid, and she subtly gestured in a certain direction.

Towards the madlanders.

Ziyou Maque had a pale face; the usually confident, burly man was subconsciously trying to make himself as small as possible. Yung read his empathic link. Fear, disappointment, hope.

He wants me to speak.

Ziyou Link’s eyes spoke pure hatred. Towards the Flareful Empress, yet strangely too, her glare was directed at Youjin Chao’s back, the tall boy standing still like a statue.

Yung's gaze fell upon the madlander youths in the line. Forlorn was the word that came to his mind. A solemn air surrounded them, their heads bowed in despair, anger etched upon their features, tears streaming down the cheeks of a few. Their clenched jaws betrayed the pain endured, crimson streams flowing forth. Meanwhile, the native ren jeered at them, sneering as though to put them back in place. But the madlanders remained voiceless, imprisoned by an intangible chain, a serpent of ancient biases, strangling their very existence.

Yung then looked at the crowd, at the scores of madlanders who had come from the slums to see their future generation soar. They were grouped in a darker shade near the southwest corner of the market square by the lower town border, and some more near the white town streets.

There were kids, elders, mothers, and fathers. They had come to witness, for the first time ever, their sons and daughters taking part in the fabled sect recruitments, to be respectable, to move past gangs and join proper sects with heads held high. Yung recognised some of them.

There, that was the snot-nosed brat, the Earth Cracking Master aspirant. He was with a thin man and a plump woman, tugging their clothes, probably asking what was going on. His parents could not reply. The boy kicked a rock, then blew bubbles. But there was something there in the boy’s expression. He had learnt a very unkind lesson today, whether he knew it subconsciously or not.

Yung took it all in, with his eyes, and with his link sight.

Fear, Resentment, Wrongness, Grief, Uncertainty, Anxiety, Nervousness, Despair, Anger, Loneliness, Frustration, Disgust, Jealousy, Powerlessness, Regret, Shame, Disappointment, Guilt, Insecurity, Bitterness, Envy, Helplessness, Sadness, Suspicion, Worry.

And Hope.

Yung could only read emotions directed at him.

He wasn’t panicking anymore. He wasn’t calm either.

He was furious!

Can’t help it. Watch over me, Edward Snowden!

Yung sent a sound transmission to Youjin Liu, asking if there were any Youjin clan members in the Dawn Dragon Throne, and got a no in return. Most sect member Youjin clansmen were part of Selenosilver Valley and its affiliated organisations, with few in the Twilight Blood Palace, and none in the Malignant Moon Sword Sect or the Victorious Tide Island.

In fact, this was the first time the Dawn Dragon Throne and Victorious Tide Island had sent representatives so far out of their domain to the Westmoon Kingdom. The patriarch assumed it was to give face to Su Nanya. These two sects should not have any members of Westmoon origin at all.

That’s good. That’s only proper.

<Verily, servant dearest, this is a more pleasing look on your face. Although we would deem it more fitting had you utilised our lustre-rouge? Alas, such stubborn a man you are.>

<I might disappoint you now.>

<What? With your talented tongue?>

<Heh.>

Yung felt a warm feeling bubbling up inside. He took a deep breath, placated Silky, and gave Miss Maid a grateful nod. Then, he spoke.

"If I may answer that question on my lady's behalf," he turned towards the Flareful Empress, and the remnants of the final complaining murmurs died down like a wet fuse.

The violet-haired cultivator did not reply.

"I'll take the silence as a yes, and not as insolence towards the Fox Clan." That got a reaction.

"You are the xinqi cultivator servant Fairy Su employs?" the Flareful Empress said, "I suppose there might be exceptions to the rules, even amongst savages. Speak, then."

Yung noticed the giant mirror in the sky expanding farther as if to cover the whole city, and then zooming into both their faces.

This world is far ahead then Gaia when it comes to live-streaming capabilities…

The wind still carried their voice like a dutiful maid, and now the whole city could both see and hear their ‘discourse’.

"I am not that exceptional, though," Yung said. He only had a second of hesitation on whether he should offend a powerful cultivator, but then realised making the madlanders feel at least welcome to today's event was a far worthier cause. "It's just that I felt a strange sense of comradeship with you since you're a smoke monger."

The outburst of aura from the Flareful Empress was largely deflected by Su Yafeng's wind. Miss Maid looked at the violet-haired woman and squinted, ever so slightly.

The aura vanished, and the Flareful Empress's expression remained unchanged as the azure gale vulpines retreated from her throat. The other cultivators sitting in the amphitheatre relaxed, seeing the drawn swords now sheathed.

As I thought, unkind words are never worth it, even if they are necessary sometimes. I mustn’t get into a bad habit.

Yung looked around the faces, saying, "It seems like not many of you know what a smoke-monger is. They're a group of ethnic minorities in our region. Once people of a large empire, now inbred to near extinction."

"Inbred?" came a voice from the Selenosilver Valley.

"Incest. They have a religious rite for it. However," Yung turned towards the Flareful Empress, whose eyes neither blinked nor moved, "The respected Flareful Empress is an exception. You were a tavern wench before being selected as a dark lady for the emperor?"

Doxxing dirty laundry. Yung felt guilty doing so, even if she did call him a savage. He spoke the truth, yes, but they were truths that hurt.

"You dare!" A Dawn Dragon Throne disciple roared.

"Dare what?" Yung asked.

"I challenge you to a duel to the death," the disciple yelled with bloodshot eyes. "For the honour of my grandmistress and our sect, against your baseless lies!"

"I refuse. I can't beat you in a fight."

The disciple was taken aback by the frank admission of weakness.

"And I didn't tell a lie. Ask her." Yung said.

The disciple did not. He just stood there, fuming, with his palm gripping the hilt of his sword.

Yung shook his head. He looked at the Flareful Empress again, saying, "I am quite disappointed, though. For someone from a neglected minority like my madlander people, you had climbed to where you are right now by the kindness of others, given opportunities few of your tribe had ever been offered. If you shatter your cultivation base and return all the wealth you earned despite being a smoke monger, your question would have more credibility. Why would you be worthy of being part of a sect, but not madlanders, when arguably your people are historically more 'savage' than ours? Daughters marrying fathers and mothers laying with sons."

The Flareful Empress did not speak. She stared with her violet eyes, even her hair no longer rustling with the wind. Still as a dead moon.

Yung looked around. The venue had gone silent, with no scarcity of gaping jaws. He saw Ziyou Maque struggling to hold in a grin, and the empathic links coming from the madlanders starting to change into more positive emotions.

What am I doing…

Whataboutism was a logical fallacy, but it was pretty useful as a face-slapping tool. He wished he had the brains to win the argument without straw-manning. But it is what it is.

The silence stretched on. Yung still waited for a reply from the Flareful Empress. And so the silence stretched on longer.

"Ziyou Yung. Good." She finally spoke, yet her voice was unchanged. She used the same tone she had, when asking her ‘query’ to Su Nanya. "We will meet soon." And vanished.

Did I make a lifelong enemy today?

“Kii?”

I cannot tell you if it was worth it. Idealism has its price, Silky.

"The Dawn Dragon Throne and its subordinate sects will withdraw from this Dim Gold City's sect recruitment ceremony, as it will for all of Westmoon kingdom." A core formation elder from their sect announced before taking their disciples and walking out with boiling skin and flaring nostrils.

Yung watched them leave with a half-smile, then turned towards the crowd. Or more specifically, the man from the Lunar Bird Dukedom. The Flareful Empress could at least be considered ‘proper’ as a person, if not too conservative and orthodox. But this monster and his family clan, Yung made a mental note to do something about them if he could. In the future, of course. "The smoke-monger woman was wrong about another thing. The purpose of the sect recruitments is to recruit disciples, not celebrate outdated traditions." His eyes narrowed, and vitriol involuntarily slipped out of his voice, "Nor is it to defend man-eating."

The crowd gasped. They knew Yung was about to drop another private bombshell.

"I would figure that cannibalism would be a Mo cultivation practice. How come the ducal family thrives on a body cultivation technique that eats babies raw? After all, that was why the madlanders rebelled, because suddenly half their children had been 'possessed' by the government for 're-education' purposes, never to be returned."