From afar, Đại Long rises like a colossal mountain range piercing the sea of clouds. Yet, upon drawing near, one would see it is no mountain, but a city of many tiers, built upon stone and the surging currents of spirit energy.
Its people speak of Đại Long as three distinct realms. Three worlds stacked one upon another.
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The Lower Tier
At the very bottom lies a place of shadow and dampness. The ground is mottled with pools of black water, the stench rising from sewers, and toxic smoke curling through every alley.
This is the dominion of smugglers, syndicates, and those long abandoned by society.
Spirit energy here is as thin as the breath of the dying, yet it is precisely in such scarcity that forbidden trades thrive — from illicit elixirs to arcane weapons outlawed by the crown.
The people of the Lower Tier often say, "Only when I taste the stench do I know I still live."
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The Middle Tier
Above the shadows lies another world — bright, bustling, yet tinged with the scent of calculation.
The great market sprawls around Hồ Thương Mại, a vast lake of waters green as jade, linked to canals that carry goods from every corner of Đại Long.
The blasts of merchant whistles, the cries of hawkers, the disputes over coin… all weave together into the heartbeat of the Middle Tier.
Here, coin and spirit energy pass from hand to hand as easily as breath. Few are wealthy, yet all believe they might seize fortune if the moment is right.
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The Upper Tier
Higher still lies the loftiest domain of Đại Long, where sunlight forever blazes and the cascade of Linh Tâm plunges from a cliff of pure white stone.
The streets are paved in polished stone, the pillars etched with ancient sigils, the palace roofs arched and gilded in gold — together forming a tapestry of grandeur unmarred.
This realm belongs only to the royal house, the great noble clans, and the most powerful lineages. Their spirit energy is so abundant that each step they take leaves a faint shimmer in the air.
From the balconies of the Upper Tier, one may behold the whole of Đại Long spread beneath, and beyond it, lands adrift in the morning mist.
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Đại Long is but newly founded — not yet half a century in age — yet already it stands as the heart of power for all the Ngũ Địa.
Its wealth and prestige command awe from beyond its borders, yet for all its splendor, its foundations are still young. A single crack, and the whole might tremble.