Foundations of Power

The sky above Xingzhao Town stretched clear and blue, the morning mist lifting to reveal a town that no longer resembled the struggling refugee outpost it once was.

Where disarray had reigned, order now ruled. Where fear had taken root, structure had bloomed. And now, under the guidance of Song Lian and Yun Zhen, the next stage of development began, not in stone or wood, but in people.

Nestled beside the main academy, a second structure stood half-submerged into the hillside, its design austere and disciplined: The Institute for Civil Advancement.

This was not a place for the idle-minded. Here, engineers, strategists, and scouts were trained—selected from among the brightest children and the most promising adults. Admission came only after a rigorous evaluation of mental acuity, physical discipline, and moral integrity.

Instructors came from all walks of life. Some were scholars who had defected from corrupt cities. Others were modern-minded tinkerers taught directly by Song Lian. Together, they created a curriculum that fused ancient wisdom with modern precision.

Subjects included:

Cartography and field strategy.

Infrastructure design (including water management and electric networks).

Ethical governance and town management.

Stealth movement and anti-surveillance techniques.

Tactical defense and enemy disruption

Song Lian herself gave weekly lectures in urban planning, data analysis, and innovation.

"Build not just for today," she said, her voice steady as she outlined blueprints for solar-based heating systems. "Build for the problems you haven't faced yet."

At her side, Yun Zhen trained the military recruits. He personally selected ten of the most promising candidates, men and women forged by hardship, to form Xingzhao's first strategic command corps, a unit tasked with reconnaissance, counterintelligence, and direct protection of the town's core leadership. They wore no uniforms, moved like shadows, and answered only to him.

As the weeks passed, Song Lian's Smart ID system evolved further. The ID cards now contained coded ranks: Civilian, Scholar, Guard, Strategist, Engineer. Each rank unlocked access to areas of governance, resources, and public forums, creating a balanced hierarchy of merit, not birth.

The town's Central Command Hall, disguised externally as a public meeting house, now housed a biometric-coded vault, multiple surveillance monitors, and an encrypted communication center. The leadership team inside met daily to review security, logistics, and agricultural yield in real-time.

Zhou Fei, a young engineer with a sharp tongue and unmatched coding skills, managed most of the internal systems. Once a petty thief from the southern borderlands, he now ran Xingzhao's internal grid with the meticulousness of a scholar.

"Two new pregnancies in the northern housing block," he reported during a daily meeting. "Water usage is balanced. Sewage system's holding well. Minor grid issue near the greenhouses—should be fixed within the hour."

Song Lian nodded. "Push updates to the west sector. And run a silent systems test on all surveillance points."

"Already on it." The town didn't just function, it thrived.

Far beyond Xingzhao's borders, beneath the crimson banners of the Yun Empire, a convoy rode through the mountain passes.

At its front rode Envoy Zhang Yu, a man whose smile never reached his eyes.

Clad in pristine court robes and bearing a sealed imperial scroll, he was tasked with a mission that outwardly bore olive branches but inwardly carried daggers.

As the mountains thinned and forest gave way to lowland plains, he motioned to the shadowed men behind him. Mercenaries. Scribes. Alchemists trained in poison and persuasion.

"The Queen of the North wishes to meet the wolves in their den," Zhang Yu whispered, holding the emperor's letter in his gloved hand. "Let us see if they bow, or bite."

Behind him, a covered carriage held a gilded chest, locked thrice over. Within it, beneath folds of silk, lay a spirit-trapped artifact, an item of ancient power, meant not to negotiate, but to bind. The envoy's smile grew colder.

That night, as lanterns were lit across the town and automated night patrols walked their routes, Yun Zhen stood atop the town wall, staring into the distance.

Behind him, Song Lian approached with two cups of tea in hand.

"No incidents today?" she asked.

"None worth mentioning," he replied, taking a cup.

Silence fell, broken only by the soft hum of the wind turbines that powered their systems.

"When this all started," he said, "I thought it would end with a battlefield. Swords, fire, blood."

"And now?" she asked.

"Now I see it won't be fire that tests us. It will be patience. Subtlety. Conviction."

Song Lian didn't reply immediately. She just looked out over Xingzhao, its lights like stars in the dark.

"They're coming," she said.

Yun Zhen's jaw tightened. "Then we'll be ready."

And as the wind carried the sound of hooves far beyond the horizon, Xingzhao waited, not afraid, but watchful.