The research notes of an Intelligentsia Guild member on the Xianzhou.

I remember being in awe of the Xianzhuo Luofu's enormity when I first saw it years ago.

The starship that we were on inched closer and closer to the “flagship,” until the Xianzhou's outline became visible to us passengers. That was when I heard people gasping in awe behind me. Some of them even started cheering softly. The ship was so majestic in its enormity that it projected an aesthetic aura that was strange and yet splendorous. As seasoned a traveler as I was, I found myself helplessly enamored by the sense of wonder the Xianzhou had left on me.

But just before arriving at the port, I made a startling discovery The Xianzhou flagship might be a bit too tiny to house any civilization of note.

Throughout the vast expanse of the cosmos, there exist innumerable civilizations entirely established on artificial entities. A massive building complex formed by linking an entire star system together, a sea of artificial planets that seem to have no boundaries, a ring-shaped metropolis built around a black hole… No matter what the specific case it might be, maintaining a habitat and ecosystem — which are prerequisites for supporting any living organism — requires a genuinely enormous infrastructure to be built.

Compared with these gargantuan creations that could easily span entire galaxies, the Xianzhou flagship is simply too tiny. Some historical records from the Intelligentsia Guild have vaguely stated how the Xianzhou ship was once part of a fleet of vessels that were sent to visit Aeons. But even going by the number of all the currently remaining ships, six such Xianzhou ships would still be far from enough to provide the necessary space for any powerful interstellar civilization to survive.

However, when we finally moved into the port, went through all those labyrinthine boarding procedures with the Sky-Faring Commission, and eventually set foot on the Xianzhou Luofu, all preconceived doubts about the viability of the Xianzhou Ship suddenly became comically unwarranted.

When I got to the bustling skyport that is the Luofu's Starskiff Haven, I started to question if my spatial sense had gone completely haywire. Without a doubt, all this visible space in Starskiff Haven is enough to fill up the entire Luofu. Strange planets were hanging up high in the sky. Everything looked completely different from the view on the outside. What kind of sorcery was this?

An Amicassador from the Sky-Faring Commission welcomed me with a professionally-trained smile and told me that many outworlders were just as amazed on their visit. The marvel I had just witnessed was simply referred to as a “delve” by the locals on the Xianzhou.

In the weeks that followed, I visited several other delves on the Xianzhou ship, or should I say, the cabins of the Xianzhou. These delves all varied in size and shape, but they were all on a scale that was just too large for any normal ship to contain. Some of these delves could hold up entire commercial districts, such as the Exalting Sanctum, while others could even contain vast luxuriant prairies like the Ever-Hunt Plains.

By simple logic, I knew these people here would never disclose to me the exact principles at work in these delves. If this wasn't just a visual façade, then it probably was some kind of mind-blowing space-folding technology. “Delve.” Hmph. They just called it a different name to make it sound more exotic.

Space folding is hardly anything new. On a large scale, it can be used for space travel, and when done on a smaller scale, it can be used as a means of storage. Many civilizations have developed their own methods of space folding. But it is still very rare to see such ubiquitous usage of space-folding technology on a scale so large that it has become a cornerstone of the Xianzhou's daily life. The reason why this is particularly difficult to accomplish is surprisingly simple. The level of energy required to fold space grows in proportion to the volume of the space being folded. For most civilizations, the cost of pulling this off would just be too astronomical. But the people of the Xianzhou have achieved this so effortlessly, the power behind which must have something to do with the Aeons.

By Nous, if given a chance to further examine this closely, I would perhaps be able to comprehend how the Xianzhou managed to create such unusual dimensions. My discovery would definitely bring enormous economic benefits for the Intelligentsia Guild.

Speaking of the first impressions of the Xianzhou Luofu, many people would first think of the starskiffs that flow endlessly at the Jade Gate like a huge school of fish or a flock of birds.

Nah, an endless stream of flying vessels is nothing unusual. I've once witnessed the traffic jams of spaceships at Tannhauser's portal and the flying taxicabs in Punklorde. But it was still quite a culture shock to witness these elegant skiffs gliding past the jade-green eaves.

In the Xianzhou language, they refer to any vehicle that can fly as a “starskiff,” much like how we call them “spaceships.” However, based on the research I have conducted thus far, the term “starskiff” also has a more limited use case, where it specifically refers to those small passenger aircraft that have a streamlined design with a pointy end and are only for civilian usage within the Xianzhou's delves.

In the standardized months since I arrived at the Xianzhou, these starskiffs have shuttled me around to different delves. The Amicassador accompanying me was a beautiful foxian girl (God knows, she might even be older than my grandmother). Then, she gave me an encouraging smile and asked if I wanted to try my hand at piloting a starskiff. “It's fairly simple, really. Here on the Luofu, it's natural for any young person around the age of 40 to know how to pilot one.” I rubbed my bald head and simply smiled back as I turned down her offer.

In my free time, I got to closely examine the design of these starskiffs, and I found out that their sterns were all equipped with a type of basic anti-gravity device that had the appearance of a jade piece. (The Amicassador informed me this was known as a “jade wheel.”) It was quite intriguing that I could not spot any visible traces of the ship being pieced together. From the bottom to the deck and to the bow, the entire body of the vessel seemed to come in just one single piece. This kind of manufacturing technology piqued my curiosity, but I didn't get an answer until I got an invitation t visit the Stargazer Navalia six months later.

It was there that I got to see the starskiff assembly line. These ships weren't manufactured by some convoluted array of industrialized machinery. Rather, it was a series of petri dishes, or perhaps I should say they were more like pots for growing plants. These ships are made in a bionic assembly line that is more comparable to plant cultivation than it is to industrialized manufacturing. The ship's skeleton, hull, deck, and all other parts were al made from seeds grown in petri dishes, which were eventually made into a starskiff as one.

In terms of the advancement of space flight technology, I'm of the opinion that Interastral Peace Corporation's vessels are not inferior to these. Nevertheless, I can also see why the IPC's ships aren't more common in the Xianzhou, judging from the perspective of demand and production speed.

Without a doubt, the Realm-Keeping Commission is the one department that outworlders get to interact with the most.

Checking resident cards on the streets? That's the Realm-Keeping Commission's job. Doing surveys for census records? That's the Realm-Keeping Commission's job. What about maintaining order for major festivals and ceremonies, arresting thieves, and inspecting the ecosystem of the Ever-Hunt Plains? These are once again within the purview of the Realm-Keeping Commission. Finally, which department is in charge of issuing the updated star-time standard when the Xianzhou is passing through the strong gravitational pull of a celestial body? You guessed it, it's the Realm-Keeping Commission…

Outworlders interact with the Realm-Keeping Commission so frequently that there was a time when I couldn't help but wonder if these notes about the commission were superfluous. Anyone who stayed on the Xianzhou long enough would naturally become familiar with the functions of the Realm-Keeping Commission.

But when I sat down and examined the Realm-Keeping Commission in detail, I discovered that it turned out to be a highly unusual organization.

If you were to flip through some of their publicly released official materials — such as “A Collection of Interesting Outworlder Laws,” which every outworlder would get upon arrival, and “Protecting Starskiff Haven,” the commission's self-celebratory propagandist documentary, which only went viral due to its absurdity — you might think, or rather the commission wants you to think, that they are just a typical law enforcement agency.

However, when you take a closer look at what they actually do, you'll find that the scope of their work is mind-boggling.

Public security, firefighting, population statistics, calendar systems… Even a fully staffed government department would be hard-pressed to take on all these duties.

Another thing that I found to be particularly unusual: The Realm-Keeping Commission is nominally in charge of handling misdemeanor cases in the Xianzhou (felony cases seem to fall under the jurisdiction of the Ten-Lords Commission). But in the vast majority of misdemeanor cases, arrests are actually made by the Cloud Knights. Likewise, the Realm-Keeping Commission is the one department nominally responsible for releasing the calendar system, yet the data collection work is actually done by the Sky-Faring Commission and the data extrapolation is handled by the Divination Commission.

Based on the documents that I've sourced, the Realm-Keeping Commission presents itself to the public as a body that does odd jobs and offers support for all other departments. To put it bluntly, it functions like a sewer into which all the work flows, always working hard so that everyone else on the Xianzhou may continue their peaceful way of life…

Is that actually the case, though? Is there a group of individuals who are prepared to endure everything for the happiness of others? In my opinion, it can't possibly be this simple.

Based on my basic understanding of how human society operates, I'm of the opinion that people have in fact misconstrued the relationship between the Realm-Keeping Commission and all other departments. The Realm-Keeping Commission must have been superior to all departments, contrary to what most people would have you believe.

Members of this commission can be found in every corner of society, from rundown ports to the ivory tower. They are the executive branch of the law, they are the hard-working scholars, and they are the scheming masterminds behind the scenes. On the Xianzhou, no one can evade the watchful eye of the Realm-Keeping Commission as they are the officially licensed spies. We just can't spot them, even if they are standing right before us in plain sight.

When I start to think about all this, I can't help but feel a chill running down my spine.

For outsiders, the Xianzhou is a place filled with mysteries. And legendary tales about Xianzhou's manufacturing sector are quite widespread.

But the reality is that the Artisanship Commission's individual assembly line is no different from all those that can be found in any other civilization. The only parts that can be described as mysterious are how incredibly slow the Xianzhou people's metabolisms are and how unusually closed off the commission is with the outside world, thus making some of their customs quite antiquated.

I remember how often I would be left scratching my head at the extreme oddities of Xianzhou customs when I first arrived. I think most outworlders who have lived on the Xianzhou before know exactly what I mean. What bewildered us first were, without a doubt, those creations made by the Artisanship Commission.

All I wanted was to buy a portable lighting device that could be used as one of my disaster response gadgets. I walked by all the shelves in the store and still couldn't find what I needed. Any kind of basic flashlight would have been fine. I just wanted a small device with a design that has basically remained the same from the ancient past to our modern age, a device that you can find anywhere and that can emit light in emergencies.

I ultimately found the most “normal” flashlight on the Xianzhou with the help of a store clerk.

The Artisanship Commission created this flashlight device in the shape of a fish, with its belly one as an open framework that could emit light. This flashlight could also produce light of adjustable intensity and emit it from different directions. As I grabbed the handle located on the fish's back, questions swirled in my mind. People on the Xianzhou seemingly believed that this was a “normal” device for providing illumination. But this product just seemed so intricate and sophisticated to me that I would even call it a work of art… of a flashlight.

Not long after that purchase, I started to collect these “normal” devices that were manufactured by the Artisanship Commission. I would then send what I found to the Intelligentsia Guild for further research. Judging from the feedback I received in their reports, most of the scholars didn't quite understand this custom of making objects overly decorative.

One report in particular left the strongest impression on me. The author wrote, “The craftsmanship of this miniature metallic beast is excellent. It is difficult to imagine how they were able to make a moving module of this precision so small. What draws my attention the most is how this device does not require any internal power source. It merely requires wind power to come to life. However, one thing still remains puzzling to me. What is the purpose of this device? Maybe it has something to d with the bell on the beast's body?”

My poor colleague had been overwhelmed by the lavishness of the Artisanship Commission's brilliant skills. In reality, the author of the report was not far off the mark. This “miniature metallic beast” was indeed meant to serve as a bell. The Xianzhou people use them as doorbells or hang them in their yards as decorative pieces. That's it.

It is clear that the practice of adding ornamental features too ordinary objects (at times the decorative parts were made to a greater degree of precision than the object itself) stems from an antiquated Xianzhou tradition. To us, it seems like an eternity ago when they first left their home planet. But for them, it has been just a few generations ever since they gained immortality.

So, even if these customs from the Old Era have long lost their practical meaning, they can still serve as shared memories, passed down for generations.

The Artisanship Commission in particular values this tradition, which is apparent from their deep interest in a wide variety of ceremonies.

A ceremony would be held for the first product manufactured on a new assembly line. A ceremony would also be held for the final product of an assembly line that is being put out of commission. There is a ceremony for newly opened shops and there is one for old workshops going out of business. The Artisanship Commission perhaps may not have faith in anything other than their own technology, but that does not dampen their passion for holding ceremonies.

The Artisanship Commission has a propensity to turn even the most minor objects into breathtakingly wonderful pieces of art. I am therefore convinced that it is necessary for us to research the Artisanship Commission's techniques for potential long-term benefits.