119: Chapter 119 The Excavation Plan: The First Signs of Wisdom

The moment the door closed behind Chen Wuwang, the air in the Council Hall seemed to be compressed by something invisible.

The clamor of the front courtyard was shut out, leaving only the morning light slanting in, falling on the edge of the stone table and reflecting a cold glint from the tip of a dagger.

Everyone stood still, their breathing growing heavier. The words from moments ago still echoed in their ears—Spiritual Vein, Foundation, Dominator... every word was like a nail being driven into their minds.

Chen Wuwang did not take the seat of honor. He stood before the stone table with his back to the terrain map projection on the wall, his fingers already tapping the tabletop.

Three short, one long, then two more short.

It wasn't random tapping; he was calculating something.

"You trust me because I was right today," he said, his voice not loud but each word carrying weight. "But I must tell you—this isn't the first time."

Everyone's gaze fixed on him simultaneously.

"Three days ago, I knew it was going to wake."

He raised his left eye, and his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered slightly, projecting a pale blue light screen that displayed a set of underground seismic frequency data. "Three micro-tremors last night, at intervals of two quarters, with the depth increasing by seven zhang each time."

"This isn't a coincidence; it's a signal. Just like how a person gets chills before a fever."

He paused and scanned the room. "I don't rely on instruments, nor do I rely on ancestral earth vein maps. I rely on—seeing ahead."

No one spoke.

Someone looked down at the floor tiles, as if trying to see the pulse three hundred zhang below through the stone.

"So the question now isn't 'is there one,' but 'how to dig it out.'"

He slapped his palm onto the stone table. "Blindly breaking the rock? What if it collapses? What if the Spiritual Qi goes berserk? Who will bear the backlash? The small fortune we've worked so hard to save cannot withstand a single cave-in."

The Beipo Liu Clan Elder opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.

The Wen Family Deacon's eyes flickered, clearly thinking of the collapse in his own family's mine last year.

"Tiezhu," Chen Wuwang suddenly spoke.

"Present!" a gruff voice rang out sharply. Chen Tiezhu took a step forward, his stubbled face trembling slightly, his eyes frighteningly bright.

"You built the 'earth dragon'; even if you don't sleep for seven days and nights, modify that drill bit. This time, I want you to modify it again."

His fingertip tapped the projection in the air, and the 3D underground model began to rotate, marking three red paths. "Install a Spirit-energy Stabilizing Drill Bit, control the excavation speed, stop every ten zhang to perform a resonance stripping test. Remember—it's not breaking the rock, it's 'peeling the shell'."

Chen Tiezhu stared at the model, his brow furrowed into a knot, before he suddenly grinned. "Understood! Using Ling Zhenzi's 'Earth Vein Resonance' principle, small-scale vibrations to let the rock layers loosen themselves?"

"Smart," Chen Wuwang nodded. "Don't just use brute force. What we want is a complete Spiritual Vein, not a pile of rubble."

"Leave it to me!" Chen Tiezhu slammed a fist against his chest, his armor clanging. "Within six hours, I'll have the modification plan and test reports all ready for you!"

"Good," Chen Wuwang turned. "Xiao Dao."

"Here," Chen Xiaodao stood straight, his hand already on his sword hilt. His silver hair was tied meticulously, and his gaze was as cold as tempered steel.

"Take the Sword Cultivator squad and rotate guard duty. I don't ask for attacks, only for fast reactions."

His voice grew heavy. "Three hundred zhang deep underground, no one knows what's buried there. If there's earth fire flowing, Spiritual Qi eruptions, or... any other movement, report it immediately and be ready for emergency support at any time."

"Understood," Chen Xiaodao's voice was quiet but decisive. "Level Three combat readiness formation will be completed before midnight tonight. Twenty-four people divided into three shifts, with two perception-type Cultivators per shift, deploying the 'Star-Probing Array' to cover the entire excavation area."

"Alright." Chen Wuwang looked at the two of them, a slight curve finally appearing at the corners of his mouth. "One of you crafts artifacts, the other wields the sword; you are both the blade and shield of the Chen Family. Now—it's time to unsheathe."

As soon as he said this, both their eyes shook simultaneously.

It wasn't just an order; it was trust, a solemn entrustment.

Chen Tiezhu's throat bobbed as he whispered, "This time... can we really pave a way for our descendants?"

"It's not 'can'," Chen Wuwang interrupted him, his voice cold and steady. "It's 'must'. We aren't just seizing resources; we are planting roots. This generation suffers so that the next won't have to rely on pills for Qi refining, and the generation after that—they will be born within a Spirit Gathering Array."

He raised his hand and pointed to the fan-shaped branch of the Spiritual Vein in the projection:

"In ten years, there will be a city here. Not a frontier village dependent on great clans, but the Eastern Wasteland's own Rising Star City. Children will have Spirit-energy Academies for school, the elderly will have Warm Vein Pools for retirement, and warriors will have mecha legions for battle."

He withdrew his hand and lowered his voice. "But I don't care about ten years from now. I only care about tomorrow—before tomorrow, I want to see the test data for the 'earth dragon' and the emergency contingency plans for the sword squad. If anyone fails, don't blame me for being heartless."

The entire room fell into a solemn silence.

No one laughed, and no one questioned him.

Because they saw his eyes—calm, crazed, and certain, three things mixed together like a red-hot iron thrown into ice water, hissing and crackling.

"Tiezhu," he added, "prioritize using high-purity Mystic Crystal Steel for the drill bit Materials. If there's not enough, dismantle two scrapped mechas. I'll authorize the request."

"Right!" Chen Tiezhu turned and left, his footsteps thumping on the ground like beating drums.

"Xiao Dao." Chen Wuwang looked at him one last time. "When you crawled out of the ruins back then, you were clutching half a wooden sword. Now you hold a real sword, and the life of the Chen Family. Don't let me down."

Chen Xiaodao took a deep breath, knelt on one knee, and held his sword across his chest. "The Young Lord's command; no retreat even in death."

He rose and turned, his pace like the wind, his cloak not even making a sound.

Chen Wuwang was the only one left in the Council Hall.

He didn't move, still standing in place, his fingers still tapping the tabletop.

Tap, tap-tap, tap-tap...

The rhythm changed.

It was the countdown of a System notification sound.

He knew the three "heavenly secret instructions" at midnight were coming again, but he didn't listen.

There was no need to look.

Because he had already used his own brain to stay one step ahead of the System's path.

He slowly raised his head and looked at the yellowed terrain map on the wall. Directly beneath the Ancestral Hall, the location marked with a red circle seemed to have a warm current surging through it at this moment.

He whispered something that no one heard:

"I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Then, he walked to the door, stood still with his hands behind his back.

The sunlight hit him from the side, casting a long shadow that stretched onto the bluestone slabs outside the door.

Footsteps came from outside the courtyard; it was Chen Tiezhu hurrying through the front courtyard, heading straight for the Artifact Refining Workshop.

In the distance, he could still be heard shouting at people, "Wake up, all of you! The Family Head has given the order! If the drill bit isn't modified by today, no one eats!"

On the other side, Chen Xiaodao's figure had already leaped onto the high wall, disappearing among the roof ridges in a few bounds, clearly off to gather the Sword Cultivators.

Chen Wuwang watched quietly.

The wind stirred his silver-white ponytail, and the old scar on his right cheek gleamed slightly in the light.

He didn't smile, nor did he move.

He just stood there like a nail, driven into this land.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice so low it was almost inaudible:

"Upload all operation records to the System backend for summary and analysis every day at midnight. Report any abnormalities immediately."

After saying this, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, blood-red patterns flashed briefly in the depths of his eyes.

Outside the door, the Alliance mecha patrol team was passing by in formation, their tracks emitting a low rumble as they crushed the ground.

In the direction of the Medicinal Field, several children were chasing a rail car, their laughter crisp and clear.

Everything seemed normal.

But some things had already changed.

He turned and took one last look at the stone table in the center of the Council Hall.

On the stone table, the dagger still pressed down on the unsigned dispatch order, its tip pointing north.