Jinling is a city unlike any other in Murim. Where Luoyang grew from merchants and Shaolin pilgrims, and Chengdu thrives on the pulse of trade and corruption, Jinling is deliberate — a city sculpted to reflect imperial order. Its wide avenues run straight as blades, designed so that all movement channels toward the center: the Imperial Palace. From above, the districts form concentric layers like the rings of a tree, each representing a tier of power.
The walls are imposing stone fortifications, etched with faint Daoist sigils said to sap the strength of any who attempt to scale them. Towers at each corner fly the golden dragon banner, its fabric enchanted to never wither, even in storm. By day, watchmen patrol the battlements in perfect rotations; by night, lanterns blaze without pause, for darkness in Jinling is treated as a sign of disorder.
Though six districts officially define Jinling, each is more than geography — they are philosophies embodied in stone, iron, and ritual. Together, they form a city that is less a home and more an extension of the throne.
At the very heart of Jinling lies the Palace, a world within a world. Crimson walls rise like cliffs, enclosing golden-roofed halls, serene gardens, and courtyards so vast that one could mistake them for entire towns. The Hall of Supreme Harmony dominates the outer court, where officials assemble each dawn to kneel before the Son of Heaven. Beyond lie the Inner Court, reserved for the imperial family, concubines, and eunuchs who run the palace’s veins of intrigue.
Key Features:
The Lotus Gardens: Lakes crossed by stone bridges, where lotus blossoms bloom year-round. The Emperor hosts banquets here to display prosperity, though whispers claim some lakes conceal secret prisons beneath their waters.
The Hall of Eternal Radiance: The Empress’s residence, where politics and domestic authority intertwine. Imperial princes and princesses are often raised here until sent to their own manors.
The Shadow Cells: Beneath the palace lie dungeons lined with talismans to suppress Qi. Prisoners of Murim renown — heroes, rebels, or sect leaders — often vanish here, their names stricken from record.
The palace is heavily guarded by the Royal Guards, who move through its halls like shadows in black lacquer armor. Even within its walls, fear reigns: ministers fear eunuchs, eunuchs fear the Warden, and all fear the Emperor’s word.
Adjacent to the palace is the district where the machinery of empire turns. Towering halls of white stone and green tile house the ministries: Revenue, Rites, War, Justice, Works, and Personnel. It is here that taxes are counted, edicts are stamped, and appointments are made.
Key Features:
Hall of the Censorate: Officials tasked with rooting out corruption meet here. Ironically, many are themselves bribed, turning oversight into a tool for factional rivalry.
The Ministry of War Pavilion: Where generals present their campaigns before heading to the front. Martial sect envoys are sometimes summoned here, either honored for service or coerced into it.
The Hall of a Thousand Scrolls: Records of the empire’s population, harvests, and tribute are stored here, watched over by scholar-officials whose pens are sharper than swords.
The Government District reflects order on the surface, but beneath lies endless factional struggle. Bureaucrats duel not with blades but with memoranda, accusations, and petitions. For adventurers, it is a place of red tape, bribes, and opportunity — a battlefield where wit and subtlety weigh heavier than strength.
South of the palace looms a grim quarter of stone towers, barred windows, and watchtowers crowned with braziers that never go dark. This is the Imperial Prison, feared across the empire as the final destination of traitors, criminals, and unfortunate scapegoats.
Key Features:
The Iron Yard: A bleak courtyard where prisoners are exercised under heavy chains. Guards watch with crossbows ready, and torture implements hang in plain sight as warning.
Torture Chambers: Ominous halls of iron devices, whips, and racks. The Warden himself oversees interrogations here, a man as feared as any grandmaster.
The Execution Ground: A raised platform where public beheadings are staged, often during festivals to serve as both entertainment and lesson.
Qi-suppressing sigils line the very stones of this district, rendering even martial masters powerless once shackled. Rumors whisper of a hidden “cell of silence” where not even screams can escape — a place reserved for sect leaders who must vanish without trace.
To the north sprawls a military city within the city: the Divine Ming Encampment, home to the empire’s most disciplined regiments. Rows of barracks stretch in perfect alignment, tents and wooden pavilions ordered with almost sacred precision.
Key Features:
Parade Grounds: Vast squares where thousands of soldiers march in synchronization, their armor gleaming like scales of a single beast. On holy days, the Emperor himself watches, judging the army’s spirit.
Armories of Heaven’s Steel: Vaults containing crossbows, spears, and siege equipment. Murim whispers claim experimental weapons are tested here, crafted by artisans blending Qi with steel.
The General’s Pavilion: Headquarters of the imperial marshal. Maps of Murim are pinned here, marked with red ink where sects or rebels trouble the dynasty.
The encampment is both fortress and spectacle. Its soldiers may not rival grandmasters in single combat, but in formation, they are a force few sects could hope to overcome. Their presence in Jinling serves as a constant reminder that the Emperor’s will is backed not only by decree but by legions.
On the western edge of the city stands the Embassy Quarter, where envoys from foreign kingdoms reside. High walls and guarded gates separate it from the rest of Jinling, creating an uneasy island of foreign culture amidst imperial authority.
Key Features:
The Mongolian Embassy: A walled compound where Mongolian horse-lords send their representatives. Horses are stabled within, and steppe rituals are performed nightly, drums echoing across the city. Tension runs high, as Mongols are both rivals and trading partners.
The Korean Embassy: A refined manor where Joseon scholars and ministers present tribute. Their presence is more peaceful, but whispers suggest Korean envoys serve as eyes for both their king and sects interested in Jinling’s politics.
The Envoys’ Hall: A neutral space where disputes are mediated. Here, the empire projects diplomacy with grandeur, but everyone knows daggers lurk behind handshakes.
For adventurers, the Embassy District is a place of intrigue — spies disguised as servants, hidden scrolls smuggled across borders, and foreign martial arts displayed in cautious demonstrations.
On the eastern side of the city lies the Jinling Academy, the empire’s most prestigious center of learning. Scholars from every province, and even from Murim sects, journey here to take the imperial examination, the sole gateway to government office.
Key Features:
The Examination Halls: Rows of small, enclosed cubicles where candidates sit for days, writing essays under constant surveillance. Thousands enter; only a handful succeed.
The Hall of Great Learning: A vast library said to house every text required for the exams. Its shelves groan with classics, treatises, and even suppressed sect manuscripts confiscated by the court.
The Scholars’ Dormitories: Spartan chambers where hopefuls sleep between study sessions, their dreams filled with both ambition and dread.
The Academy is a crucible of ambition. Success grants not only rank but the right for one’s descendants to claim noble status. Failure, however, brings disgrace that echoes for generations. Murim cultivators sometimes disguise themselves as scholars here, seeking to test their will not in combat but in the grueling arena of ink and brush.
Seen from above, Jinling is a wheel: the Palace at the hub, surrounded by rings of government, prison, military, embassy, and academy. Each district represents a pillar of imperial power: sovereignty, administration, punishment, war, diplomacy, and knowledge. Together they create a city not of freedom, but of absolute order, where every stone reinforces the Emperor’s claim to Heaven’s Mandate.
For a traveler, Jinling dazzles and terrifies in equal measure. Its avenues shine with gold, its palaces echo with poetry, its academies overflow with ink and ambition. But beneath the splendor lurk prisons, shadows, and daggers — for Jinling is not simply a city. It is a throne carved into stone, a reminder that in the Empire’s heart, all must bow.