111: Chapter 111 The Core of the Alliance, Leading the Way

The lights in the Dispatch Yard were still on, but the main control console was deserted.

Chen Wuwang stood under the corridor outside the Main Administration Hall, his silver hair swaying slightly in the night wind.

He held a Jade Slip in his hand, its edges polished bright from use; it was the core parameter list he had extracted from the "High-Level Management Team Architecture Draft" hologram last night.

That image was still floating quietly on the second floor of the Dispatch Yard, but he no longer wanted to look at it.

When one has contemplated something for too long, once the decision to act is made, there is no longer a need for repeated confirmation.

He raised his hand and pressed the Jade Slip against the access control formation. With a soft hum, the heavy bronze doors slowly slid open to both sides.

The lights in the Main Administration Hall had not yet been lit. Only the seven Psionic Crystals embedded in the dome emitted a faint shimmer, illuminating the Circular Discussion Formation carved into the floor—ten grooves extended outward like rays, leaving a circular high platform in the center, which was the speaker's position.

He walked straight onto the platform and, with a flick of his finger, pinned three Data Talismans into the formation's eye.

A projection of the dispatch records from the past seven days immediately appeared in mid-air: a red trajectory on the resource allocation map suddenly cut off, annotated with "Wen Family transport team delayed by two hours."

Another spot flashed yellow: "He Clan workshop mistakenly collected Materials, resulting in a half-hour shutdown of the Pill-Congealing Zone."

The third incident was more subtle: the Liu Clan reported a delay in the patrol handover, which was actually a deadlock between two liaison officers arguing over authority issues.

No one had committed a major blunder, yet every small matter was slowing down the entire Alliance's pace.

"When there are more people, the road must be widened," he said softly. His voice wasn't loud, but it was just enough for everyone about to enter to hear clearly.

Footsteps echoed from outside, approaching from a distance. The first batch of high-level members had arrived.

They took their seats one after another. Some brought paper and pens, some directly opened portable terminals, and a few seasoned veterans simply rested their hands on their knees, gazing steadily at the central platform.

These people came from different groups. There were leaders of Loose Cultivators who had once traveled alone, as well as Elders who held real power in small clans. All were individuals who had been screened through layers of selection and truly held the power to get things done.

Chen Wuwang did not wait for everyone to arrive before starting. As soon as the hour of Chen arrived, he raised his right hand and made a cutting gesture in the air.

"Bring solutions, not emotions," he said. "We begin now."

No one spoke below, but the atmosphere changed. It wasn't solemnity, but a sense of tension from being pulled onto the same front line.

He didn't waste words and directly pulled up the global heat map.

Light and shadow spread out as three curves—safety index, production efficiency, and collaboration frequency—scrolled side-by-side, as clear as a knife through tofu.

"We have gained a foothold," he said. "But once the walls are up, someone must guard them, someone must repair them, and someone must relay orders. The current problem isn't a lack of people, but that no one is specifically dedicated to these tasks."

Someone frowned. "Are you trying to establish official positions?"

"It's not about establishing officials," he shook his head. "It's about defining the axes."

Next, he proposed the concept of "Triple-Axis Driving"—the Safety Axis, the Production Axis, and the Collaboration Axis.

None of these axes were empty shells; they corresponded to specific functions: who is responsible for early warning response, who coordinates the flow of raw Materials, and who mediates disputes between groups.

"I don't want a leadership team that only knows how to hold meetings."

He stared at every person below. "What I want are people who can crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to check data when an alarm goes off, people who dare to slam the table and set rules when resources conflict, and people who can immediately activate emergency protocols when they see a child run into a restricted zone."

As his voice fell, the hall went silent for a few breaths.

Then, the discussion exploded.

Someone said the priority should be reinforcing the borders, making the defense system the core.

Someone insisted that the most important thing right now was to expand Alchemy production capacity to let more clansmen break through their Bottlenecks.

Still others suggested that foreign trade channels should be opened as quickly as possible to exchange resources for technology.

The argument was fierce, but no one left their seat, and no one shouted slogans.

What they were arguing about were specific divisions of responsibility, rotation sequences, and the boundaries of authority.

Chen Wuwang listened, nodding occasionally and noting down a few names.

He didn't interrupt or pass judgment. Only when the debate was at its most heated did he suddenly pull up the archived data on border anomalies.

The image changed, and over a dozen scattered Spiritual Qi disturbance markers appeared. Their positions were dispersed and their rhythm chaotic, like probing, or perhaps a deliberate attempt to create confusion.

"People outside are watching," he said. "They aren't afraid of us being poor or weak; they are only afraid that we won't fall into chaos."

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over them. The arguing gradually subsided.

"That is why I propose 'Seeking Progress through Stability'," he continued. "The three axes are not ranked in priority, but they must be advanced simultaneously. Without stable safety, production is for naught; without sufficient production, collaboration has no foundation; without smooth collaboration, safety will surely fail."

He paused and looked at the crowd. "For the proposals you've brought, I don't care for literary flair; I only care if they can solve problems. Now, divide into groups to decide on the details. Hand in the consolidated draft in two hours."

The order was given, and the crowd quickly reorganized.

Some took the lead, others recorded silently. The representatives who had originally been looking out only for their own interests began to exchange data and compare processes.

Chen Wuwang retreated to the side hall, observing the scene through a one-way light screen.

Everything was as he expected—these people had the ability; what they lacked was direction.

Two hours later, three proposal documents were placed on the central stone table.

He scanned them quickly, picked out several key points of conflict, and coordinated them on the spot.

There was no compromise, only integration.

The final result, the "Alliance Middle Stage Development Plan (Draft)," clarified the responsibilities of the three major axes, seven core mechanisms, and twelve execution nodes.

"Next is the people," he said.

He announced the adoption of a dual-track system: "Rotating Management + Special Responsibility."

Every seven days, a representative from a different group would serve as the rotating chairperson to preside over daily decision-making; major matters required a two-thirds majority to pass; each axis would have a dedicated person in charge who would be directly responsible for the results.

When the list was announced, there was no public outcry. Those selected were all people with actual achievements, and those not selected also nodded in approval.

Finally, he walked to the center of the hall and pressed his palm against the formation hub on the floor.

Psionic energy surged, and a light stele rose from the ground. It was completely transparent, its surface shimmering with golden inscriptions:

"Alliance High-Level Management Committee"

The names of the first batch of members appeared one by one, with a line of small characters carved below: "Establish power through responsibility, prove words through action."

The moment the light stele took shape, the entire Main Administration Hall trembled slightly. It wasn't due to a power fluctuation, but the weight of a certain order finally taking root.

Someone stood up and walked around the stele, reaching out to touch that line of small characters, their lips twitching.

Others looked down at their hands, as if realizing for the first time that they too could become part of the rules.

Chen Wuwang spoke no more.

He simply stood by the light stele, holding a neatly folded plan summary in his hand. On the cover were written four words: "Prepare for Public Notice."

The sky outside the hall was gradually brightening. The morning breeze blew through the pillars, fluttering the corners of his clothes.

He knew that once these people returned, the news would spread like water.

Those clans still waiting on the sidelines, those eyes hiding in the shadows—they would all know—

The Chen Family was no longer just a sanctuary.

It was becoming the heart of a city.

And the beating of a heart never relies on a single fist, but on a set of Bloodlines that can function on their own.