Lore – Xing Hong

The Constables are Xing Hong’s street-level law enforcement, a familiar sight across all six districts. They patrol markets, respond to domestic disputes, investigate crimes, and make arrests. Those are the daily work of keeping two million people from killing each other in a city where four rival factions maintain permanent presence.

Their uniform consists of black fitted longcoats over tactical underlayers, with gold circuitry embroidery tracing traditional patterns along the sleeves and lapels. Standard equipment includes the Raiden shock katana, an electrified blade capable of non-lethal incapacitation or lethal force depending on power settings. The weapon serves both practical and symbolic purposes: visible authority without the aggressive posture of firearms, effective for close-quarters work in Xing Hong’s crowded streets and corridors.

Recruitment draws from all four major factions, requiring candidates to formally suspend factional allegiance during their service. This creates an unusual brotherhood: former Covenant zealots patrolling alongside ex-Directorate soldiers, Imperial defectors working shifts with Alliance veterans. The oath ceremony involves placing one’s Nucleus Watch into a ceremonial lockbox for twenty-four hours. A symbolic death of old loyalties before rebirth as Xing Hong’s own. Many find the transition difficult. Some find it liberating.

Constables learn quickly that “neutral law” means different things in different districts. Eagle District expects them to defer to corporate security. Dragon District expects them to look the other way on minor infractions. The Slum District expects nothing at all. Veterans develop an instinct for reading which rules apply where, and when to enforce the letter of the law versus its spirit. The unofficial motto, passed from senior officers to rookies: “Keep them alive. Keep them calm. Keep walking.”

When Constables call for backup, the Blackcoats answer. Named for their heavier black greatcoats sporting decorative gold embroidery, Blackcoats serve as Xing Hong’s dedicated defensive infantry and psionic enforcers. They deploy during Radi-Mon incursions, large-scale civil unrest, and any situation requiring coordinated firepower or supernatural authority.

Standard Blackcoats

The backbone of Xing Hong’s defense. Their primary weapon is the Kowloon-7 Gauss Rifle, a semi-automatic precision weapon manufactured in Lion District. The rifle emphasizes accuracy and stopping power over rate of fire, designed for disciplined volley fire from defensive positions. An integrated bayonet attachment allows Blackcoats to hold their ground when enemies close to melee range.

Blackcoat doctrine centers on formation discipline: they train to hold lines, establish overlapping fields of fire, and maintain cohesion under pressure. Individual heroics are discouraged; coordinated defense is everything. Recruits undergo eight weeks of intensive formation drilling before ever touching live ammunition. The training philosophy is simple: the line holds, or everyone dies.

The unit earned its reputation during the 2295 Fenris assault on Dragon District. When Skarn’s forces breached the outer defenses, Blackcoat formations held defensive lines for six hours until Alliance reinforcements arrived. Their volley fire cut down wave after wave of Bone Fiends attempting to breach civilian shelters near the Slumbering Mantis Inn.

Unlike Constables, Blackcoats maintain permanent garrison posts rather than walking beats. Phoenix District’s government tower, the water treatment facilities, the atmospheric processors. Anywhere that Xing Hong cannot afford to lose.

Psionic Blackcoats

The elite tier. Selection is merciless: from an average of ninety thousand annual applicants, exactly six are chosen each year. Candidates must demonstrate psionic aptitude and the psychological profile the order requires.

Psionic Blackcoats serve as judges, executioners, and advisors. Their authority derives from abilities most citizens will never possess. In combat, they favor the complementary disciplines of Void and Eclipse psionics—destruction and preservation wielded in equal measure. Their preferred weapons include traditional warstaffs, Psi Fans for spell amplification, and reinforced fist weapons for close-quarters work, alongside standard Blackcoat armaments when formation fighting is required.

Doctrine on Intimacy

Unlike celibate martial orders elsewhere in the Seven Realms, Blackcoats operate under a doctrine refined by generations of Prefects who understood that repression breeds weakness. Members are permitted to indulge animalistic desires, including sexual ones, as frequently as they wish. The sole restriction: such indulgences must occur exclusively through legally sponsored Leased Lilies. Senior Blackcoats receive officially sanctioned discount coupons.

The Emotional Prohibition

What Psionic Blackcoats are forbidden—absolutely and without exception—is emotional attachment of any kind. Not romantic love. Not familial bonds. Not friendship, loyalty, or sentimental regard for colleagues. This prohibition exists because Psionic Blackcoats must be capable of the cruelest decisions Xing Hong demands. When justice requires a mother’s execution, the Psionic Blackcoat must swing the blade without hesitation. When a beloved mentor turns traitor, the Psionic Blackcoat must be the one who kills them. The order cannot afford practitioners whose judgment might waver when faced with destroying someone they care about.

Any Psionic Blackcoat found developing affection, exhibiting emotional weakness, or engaging in sexual relations with colleagues faces immediate consequences: rank revoked, income forfeit, permanent banishment from Xing Hong. The city has no use for Blackcoats who remember how to love.

Open to Outsiders

Despite their reputation as Xing Hong’s most ruthless institution, the Blackcoats maintain a remarkably open stance toward outsiders. All ethnicities are welcome to apply, and the order actively favors non-Imperial candidates for leadership positions—a policy designed to prevent any single faction from claiming undue influence over the city’s defenders.

The majority of current Psionic Blackcoats are immigrants: Valorans fleeing Covenant rigidity, Maridians seeking opportunity beyond Directorate borders, Novians escaping Alliance corporate exploitation, and countless others drawn by the promise that merit alone determines advancement. This inclusive philosophy serves practical ends as much as idealistic ones. Immigrants who sever ties to their homelands make ideal candidates for an order that demands the abandonment of all emotional bonds. Those who have already left everything behind find it easier to let go of what remains.

Leadership Pipeline

Nearly every Prefect and Seneschal in Xing Hong’s history served as a Blackcoat before ascending to administrative roles. Dilinur Altai rose through the psionic tier, her Eclipse abilities honed during years of service before she assumed the Prefect’s office. Kenji Tsudo climbed through standard ranks, his tactical acumen and unwavering discipline earning him the Seneschal position without a trace of psionic talent. Both were celebrated members before assuming their current positions.

The term “Radi-Human” in contemporary usage refers to something far more refined. Between 2282 and 2283, the geneticist Meiya Ji perfected what earlier scientists had only approximated. Her third-generation Radi-Humans are fully biological, grown from human genetic material in specialized breeding chambers. They reach biological maturity at age nineteen within nineteen months of gestation, emerging as complete adults. Upon reaching twenty-five—or upon losing their virginity, whichever occurs first—their aging halts entirely. They possess accelerated learning capabilities, exceptional physical fitness, powerful psionic potential, and cognitive function that outpaces baseline humanity by significant margins. The same research that created them also produced the theoretical foundation for Radi-Mon bioengineering, a connection that haunts public perception of both.

These advantages carry severe costs. Third-generation Radi-Humans exhibit pronounced emotional instability and an elevated predisposition toward psychotic episodes. Most notably, they develop intense, often uncontrollable sexual fixation on individuals they form attachments to. Due to Meiya Ji’s personal network, the majority of surviving Radi-Humans are of Imperial (East Asian) ethnicity, though specimens of other backgrounds exist where factions have acquired and modified her methods through espionage or theft.

Public attitudes toward Radi-Humans remain deeply divided. Progressive voices herald them as humanity’s evolutionary future, proof that biological limitations need not define the species. In Inner Sol, however, the predominant view is far grimmer. The realm’s substantial Buddhist population regards Radi-Humans as living evidence that the Age of Declining Dharma has arrived—that humanity’s brightest minds have finally transgressed the natural order beyond redemption. To them, the ability to manufacture superhumans from harvested genetic material represents the same hubris that spawned the Radi-Mon hordes: the wisdom of ancestors abandoned, the sanctity of life profaned, and the doom of civilization authored by those who believed themselves above consequence.

In the 23rd century, the term “Leased Lily” refers to a legalized form of contracted companionship that has become one of Xing Hong’s most economically significant industries. What began as a local practice on Mars has since spread to Venus, Earth, and the moons of Uranus, though Xing Hong remains where the modern framework originated and where the industry carries the most economic weight.

The profession’s rise can be traced to two converging factors: the eradication of sexually transmitted diseases through widespread Medi-Vap application, and the socioeconomic disruptions that eliminated traditional employment across multiple sectors. For many—particularly female college graduates facing a brutal job market—Leased Lily work offers income that office positions simply cannot match. By 2295, economists estimate that Leased Lily earnings account for 55% of Xing Hong’s Tertiary Sector GDP.

The legal framework in Xing Hong requires Lilies to operate under a sponsoring agency. These companies theoretically screen clients for safety, provide insurance coverage, and handle contractual disputes. In exchange, the agency takes a 31% cut, leaving Lilies with 69% of their earnings. Critics argue this system creates dependency while providing inadequate protection. Supporters counter that unsponsored work, while more profitable, exposes Lilies to dangerous clients with no legal recourse. The debate continues in district councils, though no legislation has passed in either direction.

Unsurprisingly, a shadow market exists. Unsponsored Lilies operate outside the legal framework, keeping their full earnings while accepting the associated risks. Prefect Dilinur’s administration officially condemns such activities, though enforcement varies dramatically by district. Lion District’s Constables investigate aggressively, Dragon District’s look the other way, Eagle District’s corporate security cares little, while Opera District’s Covenant rulers forbid the practice altogether. Nonetheless, when the average rent costs $3,000 Atomic Dollars monthly and a single premium appointment pays $800, the math pushes people toward whatever works.

Social attitudes toward the profession remain sharply divided. Venus, nicknamed “the Pleasure Planet” by admirers and “Lust & Rot” by detractors, celebrates Leased Lilies openly, with several political figures publicly involved in the industry. Xing Hong’s population proves more complicated. Traditionalist immigrants from the Covenant and Imperium view Lilies as symbols of moral decay, while others see them as pragmatic in an unforgiving economy. Prefect Dilinur maintains the status quo: neither encouraging unsponsored Lilies nor restricting operations. The industry is simply too large to touch without consequences.

Demographics vary by region, but Xing Hong’s registered Lilies are approximately 86% female, 11% male, and 3% non-binary. A niche but notable subset of the industry involves “Futa-Lilies” (combining the Japanese “futanari” 双形, meaning “dual form” with the standard designation) who undergo extensive surgical modification to achieve dual-sex physiology. The 23rd century’s medical advancements make such procedures safe and reversible, though the ongoing hormone treatments, specialized supplements, and regular medical monitoring required to maintain physical health create financial barriers that keep the practice exclusive. On Uranus, a world known for its progressive enclaves and spiritual communes, some Futa-Lilies claim connection to ancient Buddhist concepts of divine androgyny, where enlightened beings transcended fixed gender entirely. Whether this represents theological continuity or modern reinterpretation of fragmentary old-world traditions remains a matter of debate.

The standard Leased Lily contract runs for one year with annual renewal options. Lessees provide for all financial needs in exchange for the Lily’s availability and compliance with agreed-upon terms. Early termination requires the Lily to repay expenses incurred during the agreement. Whether the system represents personal agency or sophisticated exploitation depends largely on whom you ask…and how much they’re earning.

The Genbu is Xing Hong’s primary armored transport, a one-of-a-kind vehicle that has become as much a symbol of the city’s independence as the golden phoenix on its flag. Named after the Black Tortoise of Chinese and Japanese mythology, the vehicle earns its title through sheer stubbornness—it was built to survive, and twelve years later, it’s still rolling.

The design prioritizes protection over speed or elegance. Heavy black armor plating covers every surface, with gold trim tracing the edges in what engineers insist is “traditional aesthetic choice” rather than vanity. The interior accommodates a full Blackcoat squad plus additional personnel—up to nineteen people—with bench seating along both walls and weapon racks between them. A roof-mounted turret provides suppressive fire during hot extractions, while reinforced treads handle the Hellas Basin’s rocky terrain and Dragon District’s debris-choked streets with equal reliability.

Operational on almost any planet or moon in the Seven Realms, the Genbu’s origins are the subject of persistent rumor and official denial. Its hybrid design bears unmistakable resemblance to both Alliance Space Rover mobility systems and Imperium Draconic Engine armor configurations that Prefect Dilinur has always attributed to “convergent engineering principles.” Whatever its true lineage, the vehicle proved instrumental during the 2283 Independence War, breaking through Imperium blockades that should have crushed the fledgling city-state. Veterans of that conflict still speak of the Genbu with something approaching reverence.

Observant technicians note that the Genbu’s turret housing contains sealed compartments and dormant power conduits that connect to nothing. Maintenance logs from 2283 reference a “primary weapons integration system” that no longer appears in current schematics. When asked, Seneschal Kenji simply states that the Emerald Directorate provided certain technologies during the Independence War that were “returned as part of diplomatic agreements.” The empty housings remain—whether as a reminder of debts paid or capabilities surrendered, only the Prefect knows for certain.

Standard crew consists of a driver, a turret gunner, and whatever squad is being transported. The vehicle lacks the speed of Alliance rovers or the raw firepower of Imperial siege engines, but Blackcoats trust it to hold together when everything else falls apart. As Sergeant Haylen Shih reportedly tells new recruits: “He flies like a brick. But that brick gets you home.”

Goddess of war and sex within the Imperial domain of the Thousand Gods system. Primary deity of Xing Hong, Mars. Her name carries duality: 精 means both “essence” and “semen,” while 度母 invokes the maternal divines of East Asian tradition. She is the mother who guides through passion and conflict alike.

Origin

Seed Dumu emerged during the collapse of Communist China, revered by those who overthrew the regime. She represented everything communism had suppressed: individual thought, physical intimacy, rebellious spirit, and the courage to fight for personal freedom. Her worship spread through folk religion in the post-war era, with devotees praying for victory in battle, success in romance, and fulfillment in the bedchamber.

The Imperium officially classifies her as a “lesser divine second to the Celestial Dragon.” Her followers in neutral territories cheerfully ignore this.

Iconography

Depictions show a serene woman in elaborate armor riding a phoenix, carrying a staff topped with a luminous orb. Her expression remains calm regardless of context. War or lovemaking require the same centered focus. The phoenix mount connects her to Xing Hong’s civic identity; the city’s flag features a golden phoenix among Bauhinia blakeana blossoms, encircled by stars against a black field.

The Xing Hong Shrine

Her greatest temple stands within the Honghuang Administrative Palace. Legend claims the original five-story statue was carved from the crystallized semen of the 108 men who founded Xing Hong in the 22nd century. Most scholars consider this apocryphal. The statue’s unusual white-gold material composition has never been satisfactorily explained.

Seed Dumu is believed to have blessed Xing Hong’s Independence War in 2283, her favor cited as one factor in the city’s improbable victory against Imperium forces.

Worship

Devotees seek her blessing through divination blocks (擲筊), a practice shared with other Imperial domain deities. Her responses are famously unpredictable. She has refused blessings to powerful officials while favoring apparent outsiders, leading to theological speculation about what qualities earn her regard. Some believe she favors those who have let go of vanity. Others say she simply sees further than mortals can guess.

Couples intending to marry in Xing Hong traditionally visit her shrine to “let the Seed Dumu see them together” before undertaking the White Bodhi Oath. This practice ties her directly to the city’s sexual cultivation traditions.

The Decree

One phrase defines her theology: Make War as you would Make Love.

The saying’s origin is untraceable. Interpretations vary wildly. Some read it as advocating passion in all endeavors. Others demand the same intimacy with enemies that lovers share. Still others see commentary on creation and destruction as twin faces of the same act. Seed Dumu offers no clarification. Her devotees consider the ambiguity intentional.

In Xing Hong, where survival means trading pieces of yourself daily, the White Bodhi Oath cuts deeper than any public vow. It is for couples whose marriage has been endorsed by Seed Dumu, but who want to test if their bond can handle the raw truth of each other. No priests, no witnesses, no crowd. Just the two of them in their shared room on wedding night, doors locked, deciding if they’re willing to expose everything.

Upon registration, the couple receives a sealed package from the Prefect’s office containing tantric Buddhist and Daoist texts on sacred union, a meditation mat, ceremonial cushions, and a preservation vial marked with their names and registration number. The ritual begins slowly—reading aloud about bodies merging, essences mixing, or simply skimming in silence while stealing glances. The words sink in, stirring things up. Then the hard part: each partner shares a secret. Could be significant, like a betrayal from years past. Could be small, like a desire they’ve never admitted. The point is stripping bare, showing the ugly parts, and seeing if the other flinches.

What follows is an act of devotion through oral sex. The wife kneels and takes her husband into her mouth, her rhythm guided by instinct and desire. This act itself—taking the least dignified part of him into the center of her face, her dignity—represents love at its most unconditional. His surrender to her, the willingness to have his most vulnerable part held between her teeth, says the same thing back. Tradition holds that 108 movements bring auspicious blessing, slow or swift, whatever feels right. She may be gentle or eager, setting her own pace. He may grip her hair, her shoulders, or her face. She trusts him not to hurt her, and he trusts her not to bite down.

The rite continues until climax. When it comes, the wife holds it fully, no turning away. The couple then joins in a deep kiss, tongues mingling semen and saliva, tasting each other with no barriers left. Some stay locked like that for minutes, breathing hard, realizing this is what “one flesh” really means—sticky, real, undeniable.

Afterward, the wife lets the mingled fluid drip from her lips into the preservation vial. The vial is sealed and sent by private express to the Prefect’s office the following morning. Couples who complete the Oath receive permanent tax exemption on housing, vehicles, and municipal services for as long as they reside in Xing Hong. In exchange, the administration gains custody of the couple’s genetic material with unrestricted usage rights.

Variations exist for same-sex couples, with adjusted procedures that maintain the ritual’s core elements: shared study, exchanged secrets, oral intimacy, and mingled essence. Whether the Oath confers psionic benefits remains officially unconfirmed. However, long-married couples who revisit the rite (in which case the wife swallows instead of dripping her husband’s fluid into the vial) frequently report deeper Aether synchronization and, in some cases, gradual restoration of degraded psionic capabilities. Maybe it’s the trust. Maybe the act itself rewires something. Hard to prove, but the rumors persist.

The Oath’s significance extends beyond economic benefit or even spiritual transformation. It requires profound trust between partners, and trust in the government that will hold their most intimate biological data. In a city built on factional suspicion and pragmatic compromise, that combination of vulnerability—to a lover and to the state—may be the most radical act of faith Xing Hong permits.