115: Chapter 115 Expanding Influence, Other Races Beware

The drilling sounds in the night had not yet ceased.

Chen Wuwang sat on the edge of the high platform in the Main Administration Hall, the terminal interface floating in mid-air, streams of data scrolling past.

The old scar on his right cheek had long since cooled, but his fingertips still retained the habit of tapping the tabletop—three short taps followed by one long one, an old habit of his when thinking.

The first group of the mining tunnel had just sent back the second batch of mining reports; the purity was barely sufficient, but the output volume had stabilized.

Over at the Medicinal Field, the tracks were fully connected, the first batch of "Fast-Growing Jade Pith Vines" had been transplanted, and the crop rotation cycle had been compressed to ten days, one and a half days faster than the original plan.

In the warehouse area, the Worker Ant Mecha were busy feeding recycled waste crystal cores into the purification furnace, the red light flashing on and off, as if breathing.

The System did not sound.

He knew that the three "heavenly secret instruction" for midnight today had already been generated deep within his consciousness, but he did not look at them.

Now was not the time.

The wind blew in from the square entrance, carrying the smell of rust and the scorched scent of overheated spiritual energy guide rails.

In the distance, several patrol mechas drove by in Formation, their tracks grinding over the bluestone slabs, the rhythm as steady as a heartbeat.

The Alliance was running; it no longer relied on people struggling or risking their lives, but rather on processes, data, and machines that swallowed the wasteland piece by piece and spat out order.

Just then, three beams of light lit up the horizon.

They were not meteors, nor were they the flashes of Talisman, but flying boats.

Three flying Magical Artifact of different standard models slowly landed on the outskirts of the square, their hulls featuring varied patterns—some carved with beast heads, some inlaid with spirit bones, and one entirely pitch-black with only a single golden seam.

The cabin doors opened, and over a dozen people stepped out, wearing the iconic attire of their respective families, their gazes sweeping across the square—

Automatically dispatched transport vehicles, the brightly lit Artifact Refining Workshop, drones circling in the air, and even the floor tiles beneath their feet were embedded with miniature spiritual energy guidance Formation; walking on them felt light and dust-free.

No one spoke.

But their expressions changed.

From casual appraisal at the beginning, to frowning, and then to a solemn look.

An old man in a gray robe stood at the very front, his cuffs embroidered with a mountain pattern, the mark of the Northern Region Loose Cultivator Alliance.

He stared at a Worker Ant Mecha that was loading and unloading crystal plates for a full five breaths, then whispered to the person beside him:

"This thing... doesn't use Spiritual Qi to drive it?"

"It uses a spiritual energy matrix," the younger woman beside him replied. "I heard they built a central power supply tower, and all equipment runs on a network."

The old man sneered: "Mortal craftsmen playing with these clever gadgets, what good can they do? A single palm strike from a Nascent Soul expert would blast it all into dust."

Before his voice had faded, a cracking sound tore through the air.

A blue light shot out from the direction of the Alliance Platform, and a hundred meters in the air, a patrol mecha soared, wings unfolding from its back, Laser Sword drawn, striking directly at a target stone three hundred meters away.

With a deafening boom, the stone exploded, its cross-section as smooth as a mirror.

Almost simultaneously, the monitor screen of the Artifact Refining Workshop lit up, the image switching to the casting area—a new type of Rune Cannon barrel was completing its final tempering without human operation, and the quality inspection System automatically scanned it, popping up the result: [Pass Rate 98.2%].

The old man shut his mouth.

Chen Wuwang then stood up, donned his outer armor, and strode toward the square.

He did not run, nor did he shout; he simply walked. Yet with every step he took, Worker Ant Mecha automatically yielded the way, patrol drones adjusted their flight paths, and even the children repelling insects at the Medicinal Field stopped their work to look up at him.

"Welcome," he said, stopping ten steps away from the group, his voice neither loud nor low. "You've come at a good time; a new batch of goods has just been produced. Would you like to take a look?"

The gray-robed old man narrowed his eyes: "Head of the Chen Family, you are too polite. We came to see... how on earth you all managed to survive."

"Survive?" Chen Wuwang smiled slightly. "We aren't just surviving; we are expanding. The East Mountain mining tunnel has unearthed two branch veins, the Medicinal Field has achieved three-season crop rotation, and the Artifact Refining Workshop produces eight hundred Rune Cannon components a day. Yesterday, seven small families applied to join the Alliance, and they are queued for interviews until the day after tomorrow."

He paused, sweeping his gaze around: "If you are interested, I can show you around. There is no admission fee, but there is one rule—do not touch the equipment, and do not question the people doing the work."

The crowd stirred slightly.

Some had ugly expressions, some had flickering eyes, and a few young faces showed curiosity.

Chen Wuwang turned and walked away: "Follow me."

The group followed him through the logistics area, past the Medicinal Field, and up to the observation deck.

Below, rail cars shuttled back and forth, workers loaded and unloaded Materials according to terminal instructions, and even children were using small mechas to transport fertilizer.

At the distant mining tunnel entrance, the drilling sound continued incessantly, like the earth breathing.

"Seven days ago, this place was still wasteland," Chen Wuwang said, pointing to an area that had just been leveled. "Now, it supports three hundred people. If you all wish to cooperate, medicinal herbs can be shared, and technology can be taught. We do not engage in monopolies, but we will not give things away for free either."

The gray-robed old man finally spoke: "A small family rising suddenly is prone to attracting jealousy from heaven. I advise you to restrain your brilliance, lest you invite disaster upon yourself."

The surroundings fell silent instantly.

Alliance members stopped their work and glanced over quietly.

Chen Wuwang did not turn back.

He raised his hand, his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickering slightly as it recorded the muscle twitching, pupil contraction, and Spiritual Qi fluctuations at the old man's cuffs while he spoke—all saved into the System logs and marked as a "potential threat."

Only then did he slowly turn around, take the teacup handed to him by an attendant, blow on it gently, and take a sip.

"If fire could burn me, it would have come long ago," he said, setting down the cup, his gaze level. "We do not fear light, because we were born in the darkness."

As his words fell, a night patrol drone outside the window suddenly lit up its red and blue warning lights, its engine roaring as it pierced the night sky and shot straight into the clouds.

Everyone looked up.

In that instant, it felt as if the entire Alliance was responding to him.

The old man's expression changed, and he said nothing more.

The tour continued.

Chen Wuwang took them to see the automated weapon forging line, the intelligent medicinal plant temperature control sheds, and the Earth Vein Resonance Formation nodes of the defensive fortifications.

At each location, technicians gave brief explanations, neither humble nor arrogant, letting the data speak for itself.

There was no exaggeration, and nothing was hidden—all processes that should be public were fully displayed, and not a single word was mentioned about the core code that should not be touched.

Two hours later, the flying boats prepared to depart.

Before leaving, the gray-robed old man suddenly approached and lowered his voice: "This System of yours... won't last long. The Cultivation World is not built by piling up machines."

Chen Wuwang nodded: "I know. That is why I left a backup plan."

"What backup plan?"

"The hearts of the people," he smiled. "Did you see the child transporting fertilizer earlier? His father died in the insect tide three years ago. Now, he gets to eat two hot meals a day and has a light to read by at night. He will fight with his life to protect this home—it is more secure than any Formation."

The old man remained silent for a moment, then boarded the boat and left.

The flying boats ascended and gradually drifted into the distance.

Chen Wuwang stood at the highest point of the Alliance Platform, watching them disappear into the horizon.

The wind rose again, blowing his silver-white hair. He slowly raised his right hand and opened his palm.

A light screen that only he could see appeared—the "Visitor Behavior Analysis Brief" automatically generated by the family rise system.

[Visiting Factions: 7, of which 3 showed clear signs of hostility, 2 held a wait-and-see attitude, and 2 had potential willingness to cooperate]

[Key Personnel Emotional Fluctuation Record: When the gray-robed old man mentioned "jealousy from heaven," his adrenaline level rose by 47%, indicating an intent to exert pressure]

[Suggested Response Strategy: Maintain an open stance, increase border patrol frequency, and initiate Level 3 public opinion monitoring]

He finished reading and closed his palm.

The light screen disappeared.

The corners of his mouth sank slightly; it was not a smile, nor was it anger, but a coldness that went to the bone.

He knew that after these people returned, they would not write any documents about friendly exchanges.

They would say: The Chen Family has gone mad, playing with iron boxes; they would spread rumors: Those craftsmen will eventually face divine retribution; and they would even, in the shadows, begin calculating how to cut off Materials, how to spread rumors, and how to make the Alliance descend into chaos on its own.

But he did not care.

If he were afraid, he wouldn't have transmigrated from Earth.

If he were tired, he wouldn't have pulled three all-nighters to modify the Alchemy program.

If he felt pain, he wouldn't have watched his kinsmen die in the ruins and still refuse to let go.

He turned and walked back to the Main Administration Hall.

The lights were still on.

The "Resource Weekly Report" lay quietly on the table; he picked up his pen and drew an emphasis mark in the "Crystal Plate Priority" column.

Outside the door, a Worker Ant Mecha started up quietly and drove toward the warehouse area.

The drilling sound still had not ceased.