Chương 29: Chapter 28

While she awaited the next appointment, Wu Zetian took a moment to review her mental notes. Sect Status Health: Poor, poison and demonic Qi infections rampant Numbers: Roughly 20. 000 cultivators (few Core Formation, mostly Foundation Establishment and Qi Condensation), 200. 000 Sect serfs Morale: High. The Ancestor has returned. Army: Veterans, disciplined, used to irregular and regular warfare. Very skilled in siege defense. Very skilled in stealth and assassination.

- Nightjar Shadow Warriors (Night Bloodline) -- Night Sorcerers -- Owl Assassins - Stonemancers (Night Bloodline: Stone) -- Makers (Night Bloodline: Stone) - War-Smiths (Night Bloodline: Coldflame) -- Marked (Night Bloodline: Coldflame) Doctrine: Rapid maneuvering, heavy offensive power, reliance on fixed fortifications for defense, irregular warfare Equipment: Battered yet serviceable. No new addition. Only repaired or recycled items.

- Half-Armor - Qi-oriented weaponry (spears, arrows, short swords) Special equipment: Lost or sealed because of impossibility of upkeep Tasks: Healing, Reforming, Gathering Resources Monthly expenditure Food: 3. 000 Tons Water: 20 Million Liters Clothing: 150 Tons Fuel: 15.

000 Tons Distribution: Common Messhalls, Soup Kitchens, Mass Distribution Centers - Centralized, Efficient, War-time Rationing Spirit Herbs Low-quality: 80 Tons Medium-quality: 20 Tons High-quality: 3 Tons Peak: // Beast parts Low-quality: 60 Tons Medium-quality: 30 Tons High-quality: 2 Tons Peak: // Spirit Stones Low-quality: 1 million Medium-quality: 200. 000 High-quality: 50. 000 Peak: // Monthly production Food: 1. 000 Tons Water: 4 Million Liters Clothing: 30 Tons Fuel: 5.

000 Tons Structures: - Shallow Underworld Mass Plantations (Millet, Grain, Soybeans, Mushrooms, Ju Vines, Nightworms, Cotton, Assorted Vegetables and Fruit Trees – Night-strains) - Shallow Underworld Industrial Farms (Tanbu Pigs, Razor-Chicken, One-horned Cows) - Shallow Underworld Clothing Industries (Low to Middle Quality) - Middle Grey Underworld Ghost Forest Spirit Herbs Low-quality: // Medium-quality: 1 Ton High-quality: 500 Kg Peak: // Beast parts Low-quality: 10 Tons Medium-quality: 5 Ton High-quality: 2 Ton Peak: // Spirit Stones Low-quality: 400.

000 Medium-quality: 60. 000 High-quality: 5. 000 Peak: // Supplies Spirit Herbs Low-quality: // Medium-quality: // High-quality: // Peak: // Beast parts Low-quality: 400 Ton Medium-quality: 190 Ton High-quality: 12 Ton Peak: // Spirit Stones Low-quality: // Medium-quality: // High-quality: // Peak: // Food: 12. 000 Tons Water: 100 Million Liters Clothes: 300 Tons Fuel: 60.

000 Tons Structures: City Water Towers, Ranfu Storage Complex, Roads of Blessings, Ghost Storages As she finished adding the final touches, Wu Zetian took a moment to appreciate the sheer amount of resources, work, and organization required to sustain a medium-sized Sect. Apart from the mountains of stuff organized cultivation chewed through at a ridiculous pace, mortals needed to be fed, clothed and kept warm. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

These needs regressed as one climbed the rungs of cultivation, until they were non-existent. That wasn't the case for most of the population: mortals and Disciples suffered the Plateau's cold, and needed to fill growling stomachs. Wu Zetian had no intention to see them neglected, no matter how dire the situation may become. Today, she'd focus on this. Regarding food, water and clothing material, it all revolved around the so-called Fake Underworld.

A complex of caves, reservoirs and halls dug just beneath the surface of the Shallow Underworld and enlarged with the use of spatial formations that saw little use today, it accommodated whole plantations of Night-strained vegetables and grains, as well as industrial farms, mills and processing plants. Alongside the clothing production centers, the factories and the smithies on the surface, it was here that most mortals found employment.

In a way very reminiscent of her old world, the majority of people worked as farmers, shepherds, weavers, or factory workers. The unlucky ones were used as Qi batteries. The luckier ones scraped through as craftsmen, entertainers and small-time merchants, or provided little services to the Sect Disciples.

The truly lucky ones landed bottom-level management jobs for the Sects, worked as assistants to Cultivator artisans – it may take one thousand mortals to equal the work of a middling Cultivator, but it was still possible - or received dispensations and small pensions, generally because they had a succesful Cultivator in the family. If there was a strong difference from the history she knew was on the low ceiling a mortal had to contend during his life.

Since the world revolved around cultivation, any reputable job was reserved for those with the Talent. Apart from those cultivators with family ties to them, mortals were mostly disregarded and relegated to the bottom rung. The Mortal Corps headed by the Liu Family took care of managing the workforce; they essentially acted as stewards of the mortal population, taking care they were fed and clothed, and that order and work schedules were respected.

In that, they were mostly left to their own devices: the Sect's interest toward the talentless was limited to the work and the possibility of new Cultivators they provided. As long as that was fulfilled and they kept quiet, they were a non-factor. The Great Clans shared fully on that: they involved themselves with the recruiting flow and that was that. It should have been a recipe for systemic abuse, but, surprisingly, it wasn't.

The mortal world offered so little when seen through the lens of even a middling cultivator that whatever frustration and hunger the Cultivators felt for being stuck in the least glamorous job of the Sect were quickly slaked by the high status they enjoyed among mortals. It helped that only the truly talentless were stuck in the Mortal Corps, or Healer Brigades permanently, with most members being rotated back into the Sect when their mandatory terms expired. And then there were the Liu.

To the bottom of the Clans, they were looked down as mostly useless. And yet, instead of turning bitter, they had developed a surprising pride in their work. Grinding daily against the suffering of the people, they had been smoothened by it instead of turning rough. In time, they had developed a honest sense of responsability toward their charges, with compassion, duty and the idea that they were nurturing the Sect's future being the keywords.

It wasn't entirely selfless, of course: most Outer and Inner Disciples had family and friends among the mortals, and the Liu ingratiated themselves to them by taking care of their loved ones. As a result, the family name was held in high esteem among the Sect's lower rungs. Champions of the people. Wu Zetian could see the appeal. Or the reasoning. It was to be said that the system had put its paw on the scale.

The Liu may manage and care for the mortal workforce, but they didn't control the food or water production. That was left to the Zhang and Ling. Well, to the Chu and Ling now. Since the Sect Elder's defection, the Zhang had fallen, let's say, on less than optimal standing. The two Great Clans controlled the plantations and farms of the Fake Underworld, respectively.

Mostly, it was a trick put into place by the Deputy Masters: having to jockey with the Liu for the manpower they needed to keep their infrastructure moving and the Sect inspectors happy kept the two families honest and busy, while giving them an outlet for their less-than-talented scions and a somewhat important post. Cultivators may look down on the farmers, but they still need to eat and drink. Meanwhile, having to play advocate for their people had helped steer the Liu toward their current ideology.

A simple, yet effective trick in society shaping, if she had to comment on it. As for fuel and construction material, the Xing worked the Hefei Mines deeper, in the Middle Grey Underworld, through their Qin Clan subsidiary. They didn't jockey as much as dictated conditions: they were too influential for the Liu to be able to do anything more. The Scavenger Moon mostly kept its own counsel regarding the Ghost Forest situated on the same rung, keeping aloft from Clan politics and focusing on efficiency.

Wu Zetian sighed. It was a clusterfuck. The problem was that the Sect didn't have a real government. Yes, the main branch held a throne, and there were institutions in place. But these were factions mostly ruled over by single Clans, who constantly jockeyed for power and influence. The Deputy Master's power depended on his or her ability to attract the loyalty of the Clans. Even those who should have been his sword to keep the Sect in line, the Owl Talon, were contaminated by Clan infiltrations.

As a result, the Sect had flourished when a strong, effective personality had taken the Onyx Throne, and faltered when the opposite was true. In either case, the need to keep the Clans in balance and satisfied meant the various institutions of the Sect had far too much leeway to play with. Instead of a unified bureaucracy, the Blackflame Foundry, Hand of Night and Scavenger Moon each had their clerks, accounting systems, and internal audit departments.

Appointments were made through bidding, in the case of low-esteem jobs like those concerning mortals, based on political needs, or by nepotism, which, more often than not, also decided the allocation of cultivation resources to disciples. Only the Hand of Night gave real attention to merits and experience. The Blackflame Foundry was fixated on seniority and rituals, and the Scavenger Moon on the amount of loot recovered and general ruthlessness.

This same vicious mentality permeated the Nightjar Wing School, where students were pushed to compete for resources and favorites had their road laid open for them. The result was the classic selection failure: talented and ruthless disciples rose to the top, or those with the highest backing, but that meant that many resources were lost along the way.

As for the Sages of Night, they were closer to a loose coalition of families than a true institution and maintained their power through informal alliances and brutal internal selection; they took care of mining and had a monopoly over diplomacy and culture, generally out of trust from the ruler.

The Sect's actual government was barebones: clerks charged with receiving shipments and making sure that supply demands were met; inspectors who made sporadic rounds and were generally kept in reserve until a group failed to meet quotas. The Deputy Masters had never truly been hostages of the Great Clans: they had household troops, the power of the True Bloodline and the theoretical loyalty of the Hand of Night and the Owl Talon. In practice, it depended on ruler to ruler.

Too timid, and the Clans would start taking bites from the Sect's wealth. Too stringent, and they would pin their feet. In short, everything was too loose. A system held together by personal loyalty and handshakes, with far too many holes for the greedy and disloyal to work with. Her previous self found it useful. The previous Wu Zetian cared little for governing: the Godless Night existed to feed her cultivation.

As long as the Clans and institutions met the quotas she had set and didn't disturb her, they were left free to do as they wished. They couldn't hope to be a threat to her, and so that was that. As long as she was present to stabilize the system with the threat of absolute power, it would hold. To be understated, the new Wu Zetian frowned at that vision. Without her, it was a time bomb waiting to explode. Like it had done. Not to speak about the horrible moral implications.

She intended to fix it, and that meant endless problems to solve and knots to untangle. She sighed.

"Come in." Liu Bao represented well the world she had to contend with. Bright-eyed, with the eager, vicious look of someone who had to bend his head far too many times and now saw the chance to finally rise, he started his string of reports by telling her how much the Sect would benefit from the Liu being given control over the plantations. Wu Zetian closed her eyes. It was good that the Liu patriarch held his place with pride. Too bad for the stutter.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"What I asked about?" After a quick shuffling through scrolls, the young man told her. The new budget was being put to work. Reinforced by contingents of Outer and Inner Disciples, who were so being nicely kept in the dark about the lack of material for their lessons, and flush with resources, the Healer Brigades were scouring the city. Demonic Qi festered, and the city had been bathed in its miasma for decades. As a result, children were born malformed, or suffered menomations as their bodies failed.

Outer Disciples without the clout or talent necessary for attention from the upper echelons had been left to suffer from the wounds and curses left over from the Siege. No more. The Battle-Medics were on their positive brand of rampage to finally fix the problem. Bands of experienced healers went house to house to see the worst cases. New hospitals had been implanted in buildings left abandoned and first-aid camps were raised in the plazas. There were no distinctions.

Disciples or mortals, they were all receiving the Sect's care. Wu Zetian mended her notes with a flicker of satisfaction. Health: Poor, poison and demonic Qi infections rampant → Improving And then, there were the other things. In the frenzy for survival of the Siege, everything was used. Everything. Even those resources that the Godless Night, ruthless but not demonic, had ever hesitated to despoil. Child workers. Children used to power Spirit Stones with their pure Qi. Corpses recycled for spirit-parts.

Workers forced to slave away until exhaustion and death. Wu Zetian understood. When faced with death and worse, every method became open to use. For all their snottiness and self-serving ways, the Clans that remained were the loyal ones, those who played by the rules rather than doing their best to despoil everything. The moderate, which said a lot about those who weren't so. The Seven Clans had suffered their split during the Civil War, and fought harder than anybody else to protect their homes.

She wouldn't judge them for what they had been forced to do. But she wouldn't accept it either. Even as Liu Bao gave his report, she could feel the numerous work-orphanages being closed. Doors were kicked down, work manifests ripped off, drain laboratories and corpse processing plants were dismantled. All done with the eager viciousness of people who had loathed every second of them existing. New buildings, safer and warmer, had already been reserved for use by the children, elderly and maimed.

They wouldn't ever amount to much in the cultivation work, and they didn't need to. Their lives were precious, and the Sect would honor their sacrifice by taking care of them. The children would be given an instruction, they would be fed, clothed and protected. In time, she intended to employ them in the bureaucracy she intended to see spring around the Sect's government. The elderly would receive a small pension, food and lodging, so that they could pass their last years in comfort.

The maimed would be taught a small trade so that they could return to the workforce, and would receive government support. Wu Zetian didn't intend to make handouts. Even as she gave her orders, she made clear that the help was given as a reward for a long life of service, in the elderly's case, or in view of following employment. It made for a good sell to the cultivator elites, and it helped the general economy. She had even come up with a title for them: the Baohu, the Protected.

People who were under the direct protection and scrutiny of the Founder. Woe to those who touched them. Of course, that was only the beginning. Work hours had been cut and schedules reassessed. In time, she intended to introduce more changes. But that was a slow process that would take time.

"Tenzin," she said once Liu Bao was gone. The shadowy assassin appeared before her, already on his knees. Wu Zetian considered him with a small, intrigued smile. The Owl Talon was loyal to a fault, and she hadn't lost time in making him her principal servant when it came to dealing with that cabal of killers.

"Have you reviewed the list of Elder Xing?" Tenzin nodded once, without raising his head.

"Your response?"

"The Elder's choices are mostly corrected," he said firmly.

"I only have minimal notes."

"Is that so? Show me." The Owl Talon was the bloody stiletto of the Sect. They were the watchers, existing to make sure that the various institutions and personalities never stopped having the Sect's good in mind, even while they chased their own benefit. Their fall to factionalism was one of the main reasons why the Godless Night had fallen as low as it had. Wu Zetian was already working to reform them. The list Tenzin provided her with, and which she was thoroughly and personally checking, would help her in that.

It was quite fun following the assassins as they moved through her Night. Like watching a firefly move in your terrarium.

"Approved," she said casually. Floating on a breath of Qi, the scroll landed in Tenzin's open hands.

"Take care of it. Promotions, demotions and eliminations. New additions will come later." She kept out that she'd need to appoint a new Grand Owl in the future. Tenzin was as sensitive to the prospect of reward as a stone. For the assassin, service was enough.

"I give you permission to use my Night to move across the Plateau." The man was very still as her eyes fixed themselves on him.

"All the new Owls will receive the same privilege. They will only need to ask for now. Later, you'll receive tokens." Allowing her favorite warriors a preferential pathway through her Night, one that allowed them to move everywhere and do so unseen, was a given. Tenzin still took it like a blessing from Heaven. As the assassin left, leaving her alone, Wu Zetian returned to enjoy the silence of the throneroom.

In the back of her mind, an old lullaby sang, one about an old spider slowly and meticulously crafting her web.