The Royal Capital of the Southern Province did not have walls. It had a fortress.
The gates were carved from solid obsidian, standing a hundred feet tall, flanked by massive, glowing defensive arrays that hummed with terrifying power.
This wasn't Heavenly Peak City. This was the seat of mortal kings and the highest echelon of the cultivation elite.
Our carriage pulled to a halt at the primary checkpoint. Dozens of heavily armed Imperial Guards, wearing gold-plated armor and carrying halberds, were rigorously inspecting every traveler.
"Standard procedure," Ho Li-Fan said coldly as we stepped out of the carriage. "They will scan your Dantian for demonic corruption and manually inspect your luggage. Let me do the talking."
"I have nothing to hide," I said confidently, hoisting my travel bag over my shoulder. "My Dantian is a hollow, empty void of legally compliant mediocrity, and my bag contains exactly three legal pads, two charcoal pencils, and a change of socks. We are clean."
We stepped up to the inspection table. The Guard Captain, a man with a scar across his nose and a permanent scowl, slammed his armored hand on the jade counter.
"Identification tokens and luggage," the Captain barked.
Ho Li-Fan handed him her silver Jade Water Sect badge. The Captain's scowl instantly vanished, replaced by a respectful nod.
"Senior Sister Ho. We were told to expect you," the Captain said smoothly. He glanced at me, his lip curling in disgust. "And this... mortal?"
"He is an independent contractor," Ho Li-Fan said flatly. "With me."
"Protocol is protocol," the Captain grunted. He grabbed my travel bag, set it on the table, and unzipped it.
I stood tall, puffing out my chest. I was a professional Litigation Master entering the big city.
The Captain reached into my bag. His gauntlet brushed past my legal pads. His hand closed around a piece of fabric. He pulled it out.
It was not a legal pad.
It was a pair of massive, heavily soiled, tiger-striped barbarian bloomers. The crotch was encrusted with a thick layer of dried, fire-attribute grool that smelled faintly of roasted pork and poor life choices.
The Captain froze, holding the massive bloomers up in the sunlight.
My jaw dropped. The blood instantly drained from my face.
The Panty Phantom.
I slowly turned my head to look at the goat. The goat stared back, completely cross-eyed, giving me a tiny, supportive nod.
I secured the resources, Junior Brother, the goat's eyes seemed to say. May your caulk be ever thick.
"What is this?" the Captain growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
"I can explain!" I panicked, waving my hands. "That is... uh... it's a structural dampening rag! For the ink spills!"
The Captain narrowed his eyes. He reached back into the bag.
He pulled out a tiny, neon-pink lace thong. It was practically glowing with toxic green alchemy residue.
Then, he pulled out a pair of heavy, unwashed wool long-johns smelling intensely of wet dog and beast-tamer sweat.
The entire checkpoint went dead silent. Six other Imperial Guards gripped their halberds, turning to stare at the pile of horribly soiled, aesthetically clashing undergarments sitting on the inspection table.
"You are a degenerate thief," the Captain whispered, drawing his sword. "You raided the unmentionables of half the province. You are under arrest for Class-One Perversion."
"Wait!" I shrieked, backing away. "I was framed! I invoke the Fifth! It was the goat!"
The guards took a step forward. I was going to die here. I was going to be executed at the gates of the Royal Capital as a panty thief.
"Stand down."
The voice cut through the air like a localized blizzard.
Senior Sister Ho Li-Fan stepped forward, placing herself between me and the Imperial Guards. The ambient temperature plummeted. Frost formed on the golden armor of the Captain.
"Fairy Ho," the Captain stammered, lowering his sword slightly. "This man is a criminal. Look at this... this filth in his bag."
Ho Li-Fan didn't look at me. She stared straight ahead, her face a mask of absolute, unyielding ice. But beneath the collar of her robes, I could see the skin of her neck turning a violent, burning shade of scarlet.
"They are mine," Ho Li-Fan said.
The Captain blinked. He looked at the pile of crusty underwear. He looked at the pristine, elegant Ice Beauty of the Jade Water Sect.
"Excuse me?" the Captain asked, completely bewildered.
"The garments," Ho Li-Fan repeated, her voice strained, as if each word was a physical shard of glass in her throat. "They belong to me. He is merely carrying my luggage."
The Captain slowly picked up the massive, tiger-striped barbarian bloomers with a pair of metal tongs. They were easily three sizes too big for her slender frame.
"Senior Sister," the Captain said delicately. "These... these are tiger-striped. And quite voluminous."
Ho Li-Fan's eyes squeezed shut for a fraction of a second. A thick wisp of white steam curled from her shoulder.
"I enjoy a loose fit on the weekends," Ho Li-Fan forced out, her voice cracking.
The Captain slowly set the bloomers down. He reached into the bag one last time, fishing around the bottom. He pulled out a piece of black leather.
It was a pair of crotchless leather riding chaps, complete with silver studs and a spiked buckle.
The Captain held them up. He stared at Ho Li-Fan, his expression a mixture of profound shock and deep, unsettling respect.
"And these, Fairy Ho?" the Captain asked softly.
Ho Li-Fan stood there, staring at the crotchless leather chaps. Her entire face was now the color of a boiled lobster. The steam rising from her robes was so thick it looked like a localized fog bank.
She was the Head of Sect Law Enforcement. She was the untouchable Ice Beauty.
She slowly turned her head and locked eyes with me. The sheer, unadulterated hatred radiating from her gaze promised that my death would be slow, creative, and extremely painful.
She turned back to the Captain.
"...For horseback riding," Ho Li-Fan whispered.
The Captain slowly lowered the chaps. He cleared his throat, suddenly refusing to make eye contact with her.
"Of course, Senior Sister," the Captain coughed, aggressively shoving the entire pile of degenerate filth back into my travel bag and zipping it shut. "Everyone has their... hobbies. The Jade Water Sect is always welcome in the Capital. Pass through."
He handed the bag back to me.
"Thank you, Officer," I squeaked, grabbing the bag and sprinting through the gates.
Ho Li-Fan followed me into the city. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. The massive, rolling cloud of angry steam billowing from her robes communicated everything.
I looked down at the goat trotting happily beside me.
I am never feeding you premium oats again, I thought miserably.
We had successfully infiltrated the Royal Capital. And the Ice Beauty was officially going to murder me before the tournament even started.
"I am going to the Jade Water Sect's diplomatic pavilion to check in," Ho Li-Fan hissed, her voice sounding like ice cracking under pressure. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You will go to the designated safehouse. You will not speak to anyone. You will not practice law. And if you or that farm animal procure any more 'evidence' before I return, I will freeze your lungs."
She spun on her heel and marched away, the crowds of the Capital parting instantly to avoid her terrifying aura.
I let out a massive sigh of relief.
"Alright, Head of Security," I said, looking down at the goat. "We have the rest of the afternoon free. Let's go see what kind of economic infrastructure a Royal Capital has to offer."
Ten minutes later, we turned a corner and walked straight into a sensory overload that made the Spring Breeze Pavilion look like a dusty monastery.
It was the Avenue of Ten Thousand Delights. It was the Capital's international entertainment district, and it was an absolute, neon-drenched madhouse.
Massive, glowing hard-light arrays pulsed with bright pink and neon-blue advertisements. The thumping, bass-heavy rhythm of magically amplified zithers echoed from dozens of open-air pavilions. The street was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with cultivators from every corner of the mortal realm.
And lining the cobblestone street, aggressively grabbing the sleeves of anyone who walked by, were the touts.
They were mostly mortal village girls or low-level Qi Condensation dropouts, wearing incredibly scantily clad parodies of traditional Sect uniforms. Slashed skirts, bikini-style battle-armor, and glowing body paint. They were armed with laminated, glowing menus, and their grasp of the local cultivation dialect was terribly, hilariously broken.
"Hey handsome Senior!" a girl in a neon-green mesh tunic yelled, grabbing the arm of a passing sword-cultivator. "You want dual-cultivation? Very strong! We have Ping-Pong Pill show! Very cheap!"
"Ping-Pong Pill?" the cultivator asked, confused.
"Yes! Fairy shoot low-grade Qi-pills across room from Jade Valley! Very talented!" she beamed, physically dragging the bewildered man toward a dark doorway pulsing with red light.
I walked down the center of the avenue, my jaw practically unhinged. This wasn't a place of quiet, high-class enlightenment. This was a meat market. A tourist trap designed to separate foreigners from their spirit stones.
And the foreigners were everywhere.
I saw dozens of older, overweight cultivators from the distant Western and Northern Provinces. They stuck out like sore thumbs. They were red-faced, sweating profusely in the Southern humidity, and wearing horribly unseasonal, brightly colored silk robes that looked like the fantasy equivalent of Hawaiian shirts. Some of them were actually wearing woven grass sandals with thick wool socks.
It was a catastrophic fashion violation.
I watched as one particularly fat, balding cultivator with a thick Northern accent sat on a small plastic stool outside a neon-lit bar. He was surrounded by four scantily clad local girls who were aggressively pouring him cheap, watered-down spirit-beer and laughing loudly at jokes they clearly didn't understand.
"Oh, Senior!" one of the girls cooed in broken dialect, rubbing his massive, sweaty shoulder. "Your Yang energy so big! You buy us lady-drinks?"
"Ha! Of course! The Northern Winds provide!" the fat cultivator laughed obnoxiously, slamming a pouch of spirit stones onto the plastic table.
Instantly, a bouncer the size of a wardrobe materialized, snatched the pouch, and slammed a receipt down in front of the man.
"Wait, what is this?!" the Northern cultivator sputtered, his red face turning purple as he looked at the receipt. "Fifty mid-grade stones for four cups of jasmine tea?! The sign outside said two low-grade stones!"
"That is happy hour price," the bouncer grunted, crossing his massive arms. "Happy hour ended three breaths ago. Pay the tab, tourist, or we repossess your spatial ring."
The four girls had already vanished back into the bar, looking for their next mark. The fat cultivator grumbled, completely defeated, and handed over his stones.
I stopped in the middle of the street, pulling out my charcoal pencil and frantically scribbling on my legal pad.
"Boss would weep if he saw this," I whispered in absolute awe. "The tort violations. The sheer volume of false advertising! Extortion, predatory pricing, gross health-code violations regarding the Ping-Pong Pills... this entire street is a class-action lawsuit waiting to happen!"
"Hey handsome lawyer!"
I jumped. A girl in a tiny, bedazzled law-enforcement uniform had sidled up next to me, holding a glowing menu.
"You look tense," she purred, batting her heavily painted eyelashes. "You want 'Oopsie-Daisy' massage? We have two-for-one special on L4 vertebrae realignment! Very relaxing!"
My legal brain short-circuited. "Wait, you guys are franchising the Oopsie-Daisy precedent as a massage technique?!"
Before she could answer, the goat trotted up. It took one look at her glowing, laminated menu, opened its mouth, and bit a massive chunk out of the plastic.
"Hey! My menu!" the girl shrieked.
"Tactical retreat!" I yelled, grabbing the goat's leash and sprinting down the neon-lit avenue, dodging fat tourists and aggressive touts.
The Royal Capital wasn't just a fortress. It was a goldmine. And I was going to need a lot more legal pads.