112: Chapter 112 Planning for the Future, Striving Together

As the morning light first climbed the eaves of the Main Administration Hall, the bronze doors slid open silently.

When Chen Wuwang stepped out, he held a neatly folded planning summary in his hand, the four words on the cover clearly visible: "Ready for Publication."

The square was already packed with people.

There were high-level deacons who had attended last night's meeting, liaison envoys sent by various clans, and even more ordinary craftsmen, medicine boys, and patrol members. Even a few women holding children squeezed into the front row.

They were neither noisy nor rowdy, but their gazes fixed on him in unison, as if waiting for a command.

He knew what they were waiting for.

It wasn't for clauses or data, but for an answer: What would this land they were defending with their lives eventually become?

He didn't go to the speaker's platform, but instead stepped directly onto a temporary elevated rack used for transporting mecha parts.

The iron plates were wet with morning dew, and his footsteps made a dull thud as they landed. The sound wasn't loud, yet it silenced the entire crowd.

“Yesterday, the Light Stele was erected.”

He spoke, his voice neither high nor passionate, just as he usually assigned tasks in the Dispatch Yard. “The people whose names are carved upon it are not here to be officials.”

Some people below nodded, while some old craftsmen squinted as they listened.

“The rotating chairman will be the first to rush into a fire to save people; if a special project leader cannot meet their targets, they will automatically step down.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I didn't just say this; it's written into the rules—establish authority through responsibility, and prove words through actions.”

As those words fell, it was as if all background noise had been suppressed.

He knew that trust wasn't built by shouting, but by the accumulation of choice after choice.

Last night's closed-door meeting had been fiercely contested, but the decisions made were stable. What needed to be done now was to deliver this sense of 'stability' into everyone's hearts.

He unfolded the summary in his hand but did not read from it.

“I won't talk about hollow things like three-year plans or five-year goals.” He looked up. “I will only say three things.”

As the first sentence left his mouth, everyone held their breath.

“In three years, every child will be able to enter a Psionic Academy, and will no longer have to rely on scavenging waste Ore to practice Qi.”

The crowd stirred slightly.

A youth from the Dongling Wen Family jerked his head up, still clutching a recording terminal. He had started scavenging through discarded slag for Spiritual Qi crystals at the age of five, and his palms were covered in scars. At this moment, his lips trembled slightly.

“In five years,” Chen Wuwang continued, “our defensive light shield will cover a hundred miles, and we will have a three-hour warning for any meteors falling from the sky.”

A patrol captain from the Beipo Liu Clan subconsciously touched the communication talisman on his shoulder.

Previously, they couldn't even react in time when Yao Beasts approached the border, let alone objects from beyond the heavens.

“In ten years.” His voice deepened slightly. “The Eastern Wasteland will no longer be a frontier wasteland, but a rising star city where all races desire to trade, study, and settle.”

The moment those words fell, the wind suddenly grew stronger, blowing his silver hair back and making the three scars left by the Zerg on his right cheek flash in the sunlight.

No one spoke.

After a few breaths, someone muttered in a low voice: “Easy to say... where will the money come from? What about the Materials? Who would believe those great clans outside will let us develop peacefully?”

The voice wasn't loud, but it traveled far.

Chen Wuwang heard it and didn't get angry; instead, he gave a small smile.

“You don't believe it?” he asked back. “Then look over there.”

He raised his hand and pointed toward that transparent Light Stele outside the Council Hall. The golden inscriptions shimmered with a cold light in the morning sun, and the list of the first batch of members quietly emerged.

“Old Lin said that if rules can't draw blood, they are just stones,” he said. “But now, this stone has already started keeping accounts.”

He took a step forward, standing on the edge of the iron rack.

“I'm not asking if you can do it.” His voice suddenly rose. “I only have one question—do you want your descendants to mention today and say, ‘Our ancestors were the founders of this city’?”

The words fell.

The square was dead silent at first.

Then, a roar exploded from the back row:

“Count me in!”

Immediately after, another voice followed: “My family has worked with the Chen family for three generations!”

“I'll sign up for the infrastructure team tomorrow!”

“I've repaired ten Psionic Piles, count me for one share!”

The shouts rose like a tide, wave after wave.

Some thumped their chests, while others unclipped their waist tokens and slammed them onto the ground, signifying they would never back down.

Several children also jumped and shouted: “I want to build the city too! I want to build the city too!”

As the emotions surged, even the wind seemed to carry a heated energy.

Chen Wuwang stood on high, looking at the faces below. There were young ones, wrinkled ones, and wounded ones with bandages still wrapped around their hands.

They were no longer watching from the sidelines, no longer hesitating. Something shone in their eyes—it was a belief that had been ignited.

He knew that at this moment, the Alliance had truly come alive.

It wasn't because of a Light Stele or a draft proposal, but because of the collective spirit of these people who were willing to fight for it.

He didn't take the opportunity to announce new policies, nor did he order work to begin immediately.

He knew that after passion, what was needed was order.

So he turned and walked toward the side corridor, stopping before the broadcast Formation and pressing the activation rune button.

A clear voice spread out through the sound transmission Formations scattered across the square:

“Deacons of all workshop districts, gather your teams immediately and collect task lists according to the nodes published yesterday; the logistics group is to open the material requisition channels; starting today, all work hours will be recorded on the Contribution Board.”

The instructions were brief and devoid of emotion, yet they acted like a key, guiding the boiling crowd into their tracks.

The people who were just shouting quickly calmed down.

The Wen family deacon immediately pulled out a terminal to call a liaison envoy: “Notify the third group to assemble on the spot!”

The He Clan's master craftsman waved to his companions: “Let's go, to the Weapon Forging Workshop to collect the blueprints!”

A Liu Clan woman pulled her child toward the registration point: “Quick! Get our names down first!”

Some ran back to the workshops to start up mechas, the roars of engines sounding one after another;

Some gathered in a circle to verify construction drawings, their pens making rustling sounds on Jade Slips;

Even a few old herb farmers who had been squatting in the corner soaking up the sun helped each other up and shuffled toward the Medicinal Field dispatch point.

The entire Alliance was like a long-dormant engine that had been suddenly ignited.

Children brought out small stools to help adults register names;

Youths spontaneously formed guide teams to keep the passages clear;

Even a spirit cat that often stole food in the kitchen was frightened into scurrying onto the roof, staring wide-eyed at the surging flow of people below.

Chen Wuwang stood in the shadows of the side corridor, speaking no more.

The terminal in his hand vibrated gently.

The first task confirmation receipt popped up: [Infrastructure Group One in position, awaiting assignment].

He stared at that line of text, tapped the screen twice with his fingertip, and moved it into the pending queue.

In the distance, sunlight completely covered the square.

The transparent Light Stele stood quietly, reflecting the busy figures coming and going.

When people passed by, they would involuntarily slow their pace, look up at the names on it, and then straighten their backs and walk quickly toward their posts.

No one mentioned "whether it can be done" anymore.

Because they had already started doing it.

Chen Wuwang withdrew his gaze and looked toward the uncleared wasteland in the distance. The foundation for the first Psionic Academy would be built there.

His terminal vibrated again.

The second receipt: [Alchemy Workshop requests three additional people to support preliminary medicinal material processing].

The corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.

The heartbeat of this city had finally begun to beat on its own.