Chương 35: Chapter 34

Wu Zetian lounged on the throne, eyes closed, listening to reports. That was the life of the manager. Deciding and implementing took little space in the process. Most of it was listening, gathering information, talking to people and trying to draw a picture as close as possible to reality. She still remembered with a sigh how detached the higher-ups' vision could become. In her people's defense, the stock market didn't help: hope and excitement were harder to quantify, and harder still not to be contaminated by.

But she couldn't complain: in her Immortal senses, the city was a miniature replica where tiny people were swarming and doing her bidding. Tenzin and the Owls brought her news, and the secretaries from the various factions brought her reports, but, honestly, it was almost redundant. She could have easily kept pace with everything in her own. How scary, said an impish side of her. As the last clerk finished his litany, Wu Zetian put the finishing touches to her notes.

Sect S tatus Health: Poor -> poison and demonic Qi infections eliminated Wounded men on sick beds, staring in bewilderment at their hands, while family members cried in relief. A husband carrying his wife in their humble home, both spinning and laughing. People rejoicing in the street as a performer showed her long convalescence didn't dull her moves. Wu Zetian huffed softly, a strange, fond exasperation weaving through her chest. To help without asking was strangely liberating. And… a bit awkward?

She felt almost embarrassed. Oh dear. Making money for the sake of it was easier. Ridiculous. She resumed her review. 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) - Healers -- Battle-Medics --- Yi Mender The last one was interesting. Since short terms in the Healer Corps were a mandatory part of the Sect curriculum, all Disciples had some expertise in the healing arts.

Only those showing skill remained, and among those, the small Yi family had the longest tradition and most successful bloodline. To the point that in the latest generation, talks said they may have birthed a Saint. How interesting. Whatever the truth, their healers were in a league of their own, so much so that they would have long qualified for the title of Great Clan if their talents were for violence instead of a more peaceful pursuit. Mmph...

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. → Improving - Half-Armor - Qi-oriented weaponry (spears, arrows, short swords) The note came with mixed feelings. The Blackflame Foundry's main operation was too suffused with Shen Qi for anybody but the upper echelons to walk its bounds without risk.

As a result, most of the Sect's production capabilities were limited to the Foundry's outer workshops, the surface factories manned by mortals and, very pathetically, whatever could be scrounged by the Academy's student projects. Which was enough to keep what little they had up to snuff, but not nearly so for the improvements she wanted, let alone to equip new forces. The Forge Elders had all but begged her to bring the Foundry back to working conditions.

She had agreed, obviously, but that wasn't a job resolved in a day. She intended to have everything else set up before immersing herself in the task. Until then, she had reserved part of her Night to protect the blacksmiths, so that a greater percentage of the Foundry's inner workings could be re-activated. She saw them now. The Foundry hung in the Middle Grey Underworld, a madman's idea of a factory crossed with a spider nest.

Colossal chains trailed from hooks stabbed into the Yan Luo's walls, keeping the Foundry suspended among the rivers of Night Qi that swirled around it. The main building looked like the result of a God jamming whole buildings together in the spherical approximation of an improved design. The sight brought back memories. Ah, she had fun with that one. Tiny dots moved in it. Blacksmiths and foundry masters scurrying to reignite their fires and squash the Coldfire Beasts that had taken to squatting in their workshops.

Wu Zetian had torn from them the oath to dedicate most of their work to re-equip and refit the Hand, but she imagined they would be eager to return to their experiments. She'd allow it: after all, we all need a hobby. Smiling faintly, she continued. Special equipment: Lost or sealed because of the impossibility of upkeep That was the nagging point, the one she kept on returning to. Defense arrays. Stealth arrays. Beast-repelling arrays.

The Moonlit Walled Ring offered its mishmash of medium-sized protections, but nowhere close to protection against the true dangers of the world. If she wanted to regain something approaching freedom of movement, she needed to up the stakes. And that meant she needed the Grand Silent Formation. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The memory made her sigh in quiet pleasure. Ah, the Grand Silent Formation.

Out of all her old works, when it came to size, power and sheer, madcap ambition, nothing could rival it. Of course the, eh, Loyalists couldn't loot it: the Formation teemed with malice. It would have gobbled up anyone who tried to move a pebble from its carefully constructed arrays. Not even a Nascent Soul could approach without risking life and limb. Even she had to step carefully around it. But it made the Yan Luo invulnerable, even to other Immortals, and that was what she needed now. Easier said than done.

The Grand Silent Formation required a monstrous amount of Qi to remain activated for long periods. Even during the Sect's heyday, it was a measure reserved for when enemy Immortals assaulted the Domain directly. Wu Zetian could fuel it directly, but to what point? She would end up exhausting herself, and the enemies would still be out there. No, she needed both herself and the Formation active at the same time. And that meant gathering what was needed.

First, an enormous quantity of Spirit Stones had to be stockpiled and refined. The amount of Qi would be useful for short bursts of activation when the need was great. Second, the Sect needed a spirit beast guardian. Since the second was impossible at the moment, she intended to focus on the first. Tasks: Healing, Reforming, Gathering Resources → Rebuilding Monthly expenditure/ production/supplies Food: 3. 000 Tons / 2. 000 Tons / 11.

000 Tons Water: 20 Million Liters / 9 Million Liters / 89 Million Liters Clothing: 150 Tons / 60 Tons / 210 Tons Fuel: 15. 000 Tons / 10. 000 Tons / 55.

000 Tons Distribution: - Common Messhalls, Soup Kitchens, Mass Distribution Centers -- Centralized, Efficient, War-time Rationing Production: - 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 Storage: - City Water Towers, Ranfu Storage Complex, Roads of Blessings, Ghost Storages Another reason to huff.

All it took was for her attention to turn that way. Hoping to curb her favor, the great families had raced to help solve the basic suppy shortage. The vultures. But she wouldn't complain: the inflow of expertise, resources and manpower had jump-started production to levels approaching self-sufficiency.

The Chu and Ling, both families charged with overseeing the factories, had bent themselves over backward to not seem lazy: even members of their main branches had been seen making the rounds in the mills and farms, sometimes going as far as pulling up their embroidered sleeves to help. The Zhang, drowning in the disgrace of their Patriarch's defection, had broken their self-imposed exile in their mansions to timidly offer their expertise, free of charge, of course.

They had been rebuffed, but Wu Zetian didn't think they were a problem that could be left hanging for much longer. Nenqin will bring it up in the next meeting, no doubt. The thought of her grandson brought a faint smile to her lips. He had looked both overwhelmed and determined the last time she had seen him. Even now, his dot in her perceptions brimmed with furious energy. The boy had taken to the role with a zeal bordering on fanaticism.

Even losing the safety Haoran brought had failed to dim his determination: the young man was everywhere at once, entertaining nobles, holding meetings, implementing policies, quelling protests and generally squeezing every drop of influence he could from being the only official link to the Ancestor a noble could see and touch. Wu Zetian wouldn't apologize. The child had the makings of a great leader, and she worked far better from the shadows, handing out orders while keeping a rein on the greater picture.

It would help him in the long run anyway. Back in the Fake Undeworld, she was uncertain between exasperation and more exasperation. The layer felt paper-thin in her perceptions, and yet it swarmed with activity, animals and humans alike. Was that so hard? Cultivators turn their skills to the betterment of all for a moment and the results speak for themselves. But that meant taking their eyes away from the rat-race toward the Dao. And if you did that, another would steal your spot, your resources, your experiences.

In a way, it reminded her of the stock market and its cut-throat, never-ending thirst for growth. You had to jump in because everything did so. Miss the bus, and you would be left behind. She sighed. Spirit Herbs Low-quality: 80 Tons (Effective: 5) / 20 Tons / 50 Tons Medium-quality: 20 Tons (Effective: 2) / 8 Ton / 27 High-quality: 3 Tons (Effective: 0) / 1.

5 Ton / 0 Peak: // Beast parts Low-quality: 60 Tons (Effective: 6) / 20 Tons / 50 Tons Medium-quality: 30 Tons (Effective: 2) / 15 Tons / 30 Tons High-quality: 2 Tons (Effective: 0) / 2 Tons / 4 Tons Peak: // Production: - Delightful Retreat Gardens - Devouring Horde Hunting Grounds - Scavenger Moon Teams - Outer Ring Budding Plantations Distribution: - Night Domain Gathering Depots - Scavenger Moon Caravans More pleasing. Far more.

Her investments in the Devouring Horde and Delightful Retreat, paired with the stick and carrot approach she had used on her two disciples, were proving their worth. Each of the smaller Sects brought thousands of new members to the Godless Night, all of them currently employed in hunting and farming. As they grew more confident with their trade and used to their new lands, their output increased by leaps and bounds.

The Scavenger Moon had resumed its activities around the Domain and into the Crater, in the Ghost Forest, but their scavenging was low-level intensity, since most of its forces were still deployed in the Borderlands. At the moment, it was teams of the cultivators who hunted and gathered in the Sect grounds, mosquito bites to the elephant that was their need. Where they excelled was in moving what was provided by the two Outer Sects.

The Scavenger Moon had organized depots for deliveries and caravans of massive wagons to move the produce into the city. The Hand provided security detail and sneers at both the scavengers and the "barbarians." Plantations of spirit herbs were once farmed in the land between the Moonlit Walled Ring and the slave quarters. Long destroyed by the siege, they were now being slowly replanted. It wasn't easy: manpower was mostly used up, and the land needed to be cleansed of whatever miasma kept on lingering.

Still, small plantations of night-strain herbs were slowly appearing beside the walls. Wu Zetian considered patting herself on the back, but decided against it. By her decree, Cultivation had stopped. The pills, the baths, the breakthrough attempts, the inks, the artifacts.

Apart from what was needed for medicine, food and water preservation, everything had been put on hold to allow the warehouses to stockpile, so that instead of trying to fill a bucket with a spoon, there could be a proper restart to all activities. It wasn't sustainable, and Wu Zetian was aware of it with a glaring focus. No matter the unshakeable authority her power gave the Ancestor, there were limits, even for her.

Cultivation was the lifeblood of the world, what separated immortals from mortals and gave life the only objective worth striving for: the search for immortality, power and the path to Lord Di's throne. Take that away and people would rebel. They would rail and fight back. They would call you a tyrant and turn away from you. The Sect could do little against her. She could even kill them all if she wished. But what then? No, it was unthinkable, and that meant even she had to keep watch not to overstep.

Nor was danger completely out of the picture. Greater predator she may be, the weak could band together to take her down, or at least, to spoil her rule. As Gan Nim and his treasure showed her, even an Immortal could be hindered, hobbled, or even vanquished. And if not her, those close to her. Unacceptable, and that was why the ban on resource usage for cultivation purposes was a stopgap measure meant to end shortly, just enough to have something to fall back on and give time to production to increase.

Grim, Wu Zetian moved on. Spirit Stones Low-quality: 1 million / 500. 000 / 0 Medium-quality: 200. 000 / 80. 000 / 0 High-quality: 50. 000 / 10. 000 / 0 Peak: // Spirit Stones. Spirit Stones. Spirit Stones. It was always about Spirit Stones. Nothing could run without them, and nothing worked without them. The Grand Silent Formation ate a mountain of the things. Everything needed them to work, from facilities to artifacts, to weapons to armor.

Production of new things may be stopped, but maintenance could not, and that meant that Spirit Stones had to be mined and consumed. After securing food, water, fuel and clothing, all her thoughts turned to this matter. The Hefei Mines, deep in the Yan Luo, were, alongside the Ghost Forest, the premier supply of spirit stones for the Sect, as well as a tried and tested proving grounds for Disciples. Wu Zetian had thrown people and money at it.

There was no need for extension: as the Sect dwindled, the galleries had been sealed and operations reduced. Now, it was all about the slow, grinding work of moving through the Night Qi-effused tunnels, where darkness had a weight and distances were twisted, to cleanse them of squatters and whatever impurity had taken hold. Or it would be, if she weren't there. She intended to take care of it personally.

Thankfully, even setting aside the forbidden zones, there was still plenty of area for her miners to chip their picks against. The problem was, once cultivators and mortals had been dispatched to the mines, the Sect's manpower was tapped out. Until the expedition returned and she received an influx of numbers, she could make no further changes. Wu Zetian reviewed the map of the Domain she had memorized. The Spiral Mines. The Alchemy Peaks. The Gloom Pits and the Light-Eater. More than anything, the Heaven Stair.

There was so much untapped potential in the Domain, sites supplying minerals, herbs and rare materials that had seen much use during the glory days. They lie abandoned now, and she couldn't make use of them, not without more limbs. She was stuck, fighting one problem after the other while the resource stifle pressed on her head. I may need a glass of wine. Or reports from the Borderlands and Qinghai. She was expecting them at any moment now.