178: Chapter 178 Escalating Conflicts Affect Unity

As the morning light just climbed onto the eaves of the Eastern Wasteland Alliance Council Hall, the bronze bell swayed lightly in the wind, but no one answered.

The main hall doors opened, and as Chen Wuwang stepped inside, his boot soles crushed a wisp of lingering dew.

He looked at no one and walked straight to the main seat. His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye swept across the hall—thirteen of the seventeen clan representatives had arrived, with three empty chairs angled toward the main seat, like a gap deliberately placed there.

"Today's agenda," he began, his voice not loud, yet it suppressed the buzzing whispers in the corners, "Leiyin Pavilion arrives in seven days. The communication frequency upgrade, welcoming array scheduling, and energy diversion plan are to be drafted under the leadership of my Family, and I now submit them for joint discussion."

When his voice fell, no one responded.

In the third row on the left, a middle-aged deacon from the Chuanyun Sect suddenly stood up, flicked a talisman from his sleeve, and slapped it onto the table with a snap:

"Last month, the Family monopolized the spiritual energy modification of the 'Tianshu Tower' without following the Alliance's public disclosure process. Today, you want to take charge of the welcoming duties again. Do you intend to clutch all the work into your own hands?"

Before he finished speaking, someone from the Chiji Ridge side on the right sneered: "Exactly. Two of our clan's disciples applied to use the mech maintenance bay the other day, only to be told that 'resources are prioritized for the core combat echelon.' May I ask the Family head, who counts as core? And who is an outsider?"

Another person stood up, a young leader of the Sand Clan, tapping his fingers on the table: "Concentrating decision-making power is not the issue; the issue is—do we still have a say? Last time, the spoils of war were distributed without even a discussion, just a direct announcement. Now, even receiving foreign envoys has to be decided by the Family? The Alliance is for joint governance, not a private hall meeting for one Family!"

Waves of noise rose layer by layer.

"Why is it that you always get to set the rules?"

"What about the promised technology sharing? Where are the blueprints?"

"We are not here to take orders!"

The crowd grew restless, the sounds of chairs moving, table-slapping, and arguing blending into one.

Several previously silent representatives from the border clans also began whispering to each other, their eyes frequently sweeping toward Chen Wuwang.

He sat there, unmoving.

His knuckles tapped against the table, the rhythm growing faster and faster.

Deep within his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye, a red light flashed and then faded.

At the edge of his right pupil, blood-colored spiritual patterns quietly emerged, only to be forcibly suppressed by him immediately.

He did not refute, nor did he explain.

He simply listened.

Listening to those old Cultivators who had once fought their way out of a bug swarm encirclement under his leadership, now using a questioning tone to bring up "privilege";

Listening to those brothers who had once fought back-to-back on the battlefield, now arguing about "resource tilting";

Listening to the word "Alliance" being used time and again as a weapon, smashing against the order he had rebuilt with his own hands.

A white-haired old man stood up tremblingly; he was an Elder from the Nanling Medicine Valley who had once stood side-by-side with Chen Wuwang guarding the mine during a night battle.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, he only sighed: "This old man doesn't understand what this frequency or that frequency is..."

"But I remember who led the engineering corps a year ago, digging the escape tunnel one shovel at a time. Now that everyone has an easier life, instead... never mind, I am old, I don't understand these words."

He sat down slowly and did not look up again.

Chen Wuwang's gaze rested on him for a second, then shifted away.

He knew these people did not truly hate him.

But they had been pushed to the forefront, becoming the outlet for voices.

And for those who didn't speak, the hesitation in their eyes was more piercing than the shouting.

"This matter cannot just end like this!" the Chuanyun Sect deacon continued to shout, "From now on, any project involving core technology must establish a joint supervisory group! Otherwise, who can feel at ease?"

"Right! At least send someone to keep an eye on it!"

"At least let us know where the money is being spent!"

The voices of agreement grew more numerous.

At first, there were only three or four leading it, but now over a dozen people were responding.

Even the traditionally neutral Blacksmith Alliance sent a representative to state: "We don't want power, but we must have a channel for information."

Chen Wuwang finally raised his hand.

Palm facing down, he pressed down gently.

The whole hall went quiet for a moment.

He stood up, his black armor gleaming with a cold light, the Titanium Alloy Dagger at his waist vibrating slightly.

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over every face—some angry, some hesitant, some evasive.

"The proposal is shelved," he said, his voice calm, "today's meeting ends here."

No one applauded, and no one objected.

The group rose one after another and dispersed.

Footsteps were chaotic; some walked hurriedly, while others dawdled, as if waiting for someone to speak first to ease the atmosphere.

But no one spoke.

The doors opened and closed several times, and the figures gradually thinned.

Chen Wuwang did not leave.

He stood in place until the last representative disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Sunlight cut in obliquely from the high windows, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.

The main hall was empty, leaving only him.

The Jade Slip on the table was still spread open, with the words "Draft of Welcoming Plan" written on it, the ink still wet.

He turned and walked out, his boot heels tapping against the bluestone, one tap, another, as if counting heartbeats.

Outside the corridor, the morning mist had not yet dispersed.

He stopped his steps and gazed into the distance.

Over at the Chen Family territory, the sounds of forging continued incessantly, spiritual mist rose, and the roar of patrolling mechs was faintly audible.

The lighthouse of the Artifact Refining Workshop was lit, the drip irrigation System of the Medicinal Field was running, children were running laps on the training ground, and laughter drifted over with the wind.

Everything was as usual.

Yet he knew that something was different.

Two old Cultivators who had once lived and died with him brushed past, heads down, hurrying along without even glancing at him.

A young leader saw him, immediately turned into a side alley, and took a detour.

Even the apprentice who usually loved to crowd around him asking questions stood far away today, not daring to approach.

He stood under the corridor, the wind blowing through the stray hair on his forehead.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered slightly, and an interface silently scrolled through a few lines of data:

[Family Loyalty Monitoring—Fluctuation Range ± 12%]

[External Public Opinion Trend—Negative Growth Continuous]

[Key Personnel Abnormal Behavior—3 People]

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he whispered to himself: "The markers have failed... it's not a signal problem, it's that people's hearts have changed."

He paused for a moment, then looked up at the sky. The clouds hung low, pressing against the outline of the city walls.

"The storm is coming, but I cannot even grasp the wind direction."

His right hand slowly pressed onto the handle of the dagger, his fingertips rubbing over the rune grooves.

The blood-colored spiritual patterns jumped at the edge of his pupil, then were suppressed again.

His footsteps continued forward.

Passing through the corridor and bypassing the side hall's corner door, he stopped before a secluded set of stairs.

Ahead was the Alliance Archives Pavilion, and further past that was the Communication Hub—the place that should have had its upgrade decided by today's meeting.

He paused, but did not go in.

His gaze turned from restless to calm, from chaotic to settled.

"I cannot wait any longer."

He said softly, as if to himself, and also as if to some unseen opponent.

The wind blew from behind, lifting the hem of his clothes.

He stood outside the side hall door, his figure stretched long by the sunlight, casting a lonely shadow on the wall.

From afar came the roar of a mech starting up, sounding like a response, and also like a urging.

He did not look back.