388: Chapter 388 Undercurrents

The wind just swept past the cliff edge, causing the iron flag to keep rattling.

Chen Wuwang did not move.

He stood where he was, his silver-white long hair pulled to one side by the wind, and three old scars on his right cheek glowing dark red in the morning light.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye vibrated slightly, and his vision instantly switched—

A thermal map unfurled; the land of the Eastern Wasteland was like a piece of iron heated until semi-translucent, with the three abandoned sites of Nanling, Western Desert, and North Valley having long since returned to peace.

Yet, just around midnight last night, there were three faint energy surges, like mice gnawing at the base of a wall, silent and stealthy.

"It is not the insect race," he said in a low voice, "nor is it bandits."

Footsteps approached from behind, and Xiao Wu from the messenger unit hurried up, lowering his voice: "Family Head, the Artifact Refining Workshop has reported progress; ten units of the Xuanjia Type III have been incorporated into the patrol sequence, the routes have been encrypted, and they are rotating randomly."

"Hmm." Chen Wuwang nodded, his gaze not shifting, "What about the rest?"

"Over at the training grounds, Chen Xiaodao led his men in two extra rounds of surprise interception training, reducing the average reaction time by thirty-seven percent. The Medicinal Field is normal, and Bai Ling says the earth veins are stable."

"Stable?" Chen Wuwang sneered, "She only spoke of what is happening within a hundred miles beneath the surface. What about deeper? Three hundred zhang underground, has anyone been digging tunnels? Has anyone been burying talismans? Has anyone been secretly channeling Spiritual Qi flow from the outer realms?"

Xiao Wu was stunned: "This… this subordinate did not check."

"Go check." Chen Wuwang finally turned his head, his gaze as sharp as a blade scraping bone, "Do not just stare at what flies in the sky; look at what crawls underground as well. What the enemy is best at is making you think everything is peaceful."

"Yes!" Xiao Wu cupped his fists and retreated.

Chen Wuwang looked back toward the distance.

The lights in the territory were gradually thinning, morning mist was rising, mecha patrol teams were carving pale blue trails in the low altitude, the fires of the Artifact Refining Workshop had not yet extinguished, and the sound of forging hammers could be heard faintly.

Everything was operating as usual, in perfect order.

But he knew, it was different now.

He raised his hand and tapped his fingertips twice in the air.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye activated again, retrieving the border surveillance data from the past seventy-two hours.

Images unfolded layer by layer: the Spiritual Qi fluctuations at Nanling Outpost No. 13 had risen by forty-two percent at night;

The Zhao Clan of Xiling base had shown traces of short-range jumps for three consecutive nights, with all landing points in uninhabited areas;

The Beipo Liu Clan medicinal garden had briefly shut down its mountain-protecting Formation last night, lasting for eighteen breaths—just enough for a hidden communication talisman to slip out.

"Interesting," he murmured.

These small clans, while shouting "Alliance" and "Common Alliance" on their lips, had already begun colluding with unknown forces behind the scenes.

It was either for self-preservation or because they had been promised benefits.

"Moyuan… what exactly did you promise them?" He narrowed his eyes.

Just then, the communication talisman at his waist vibrated slightly.

He looked down; it was an anonymous brief pushed through an encrypted channel, marked as coming from a "black market bottom-level informant," and the content was only a short line of text:

[An Elder of the Zhao Clan of Xiling snuck into the black market late at night three days ago and traded a Spirit talisman engraved with demon patterns in exchange for a set of incomplete mecha blueprints.]

Chen Wuwang stared at that line of text for a full five seconds.

Then he turned and strode down the cliff edge, heading straight for the underground secret chamber of the Main Peak.

The door of the secret chamber closed behind him, isolating all sounds from the outside world.

There were no lights in the room, only a holographic intelligence screen in the center glowing faintly, reflecting on half his face as it flickered.

He sat into the control chair and tapped the edge of the table three times—this was the secret code to initiate a low-frequency scan of the Family intelligence network.

The screen flashed, and the data stream began to scroll.

Nanling Wen Clan: Purchased a large quantity of low-grade Spirit Array Materials in the last five days, with amounts far exceeding daily requirements;

Zhao Clan of Xiling: Had three secret meetings with a mysterious figure calling himself the "Shadow Merchant," all at abandoned mine shafts;

Beipo Liu Clan: Two young Disciples from the clan mysteriously disappeared last night; their families reported them as "out traveling," but they did not go through the formal exit registration.

"They are all moving," he said in a low voice, "acting honest one by one, yet busy finding backers behind the scenes."

He suddenly remembered what happened after the Nascent Soul celebration three years ago.

At that time, Liu Laosan was still personally carrying wine jars to practice the welcome ceremony, and the eldest Young Master of the Zhao Clan had knelt to offer him tea. Now, things were different; at the slightest sign of trouble, they were the first to want to flip the table.

"They are either mad with poverty or afraid of death," he sneered, "Moyuan uses the 'Blessing of the Old Ones' as bait, and they actually believe they can survive by relying on it?"

He closed his eyes, rapidly deducing in his mind.

If he were Moyuan, wanting to dismantle the Chen Family's outer defensive lines, he would not act directly.

A frontal assault would not work, and the cost was too high.

He would choose those small clans with scarce resources and unstable Foundations, using power to tempt them and fear to pressure them, making them actively betray the Alliance and create division.

And once more than three clans openly defected, the rest of the onlookers would waver. Once the hearts of the people scattered, the Alliance would collapse.

"So, this is not about defending against external enemies," he opened his eyes, his voice as cold as ice, "it is about defending against internal traitors."

He swiped his finger, pulling up the distribution map of the Eastern Wasteland Alliance forces.

A dozen or so names were quietly listed, seven or eight of which had been automatically marked red by the System—the frequency of abnormal behavior exceeded the threshold.

"You want to gamble?" He stared at those names, "Then let us see whether you get the 'Blessing' first, or I strip you down to your underwear first."

His right hand hovered above the communication activation button, but he hesitated to press it.

He could not be hasty.

Summoning the clan members now would be equivalent to telling everyone: I have already noticed. Those small clans that had not yet made up their minds were still hesitating, but hearing the wind tighten, they might immediately defect to the enemy instead.

He could not do nothing either.

If he let it be, waiting for them to form a secret Alliance and coordinate from inside and outside, then even with more mecha and stronger Formations, he would not be able to stop the bomb exploding from within.

"The key to breaking the situation…" he slowly exhaled, "is not in fighting, but in dismantling."

He suddenly laughed, not loudly, but with a touch of madness:

"You want to pull people in to surround me? Fine. But do you know that these people follow me not because they fear me, but because they believe I can lead them to survive?"

"You trade the illusory 'Blessing' for loyalty, while I trade cold, hard resources, safety, and dignity for the hearts of the people—no matter how you calculate this, you lose."

He withdrew his hand and did not press the communication button.

Instead, he opened another channel and entered a string of secret codes.

The screen jumped, entering the "Family Development Headquarters" task declaration System.

He quickly browsed the recently submitted proposals: the Nanling mining project had been approved, and the first exploration team would depart tomorrow;

The automation assembly line upgrade plan for the Artifact Refining Workshop had passed the initial review;

The prototype for the Cultivation simulation pod had entered the material preparation stage…

"Continue to push forward," he said in his heart, "the faster, the better."

As long as development does not stop, the hearts of the people will not scatter.

As long as the clan members see hope, those small clans hiding in the dark will truly realize—they are not betraying a Family, but a path leading to the future.

He stood up and walked to a wall at the end of the secret chamber.

On the wall hung a hand-drawn map, a sketch of the Eastern Wasteland terrain he had drawn himself thirty years ago when he had just Transmigrated, and next to it were a few yellowed papers with words like "Cyber Cultivation V0.3 Engine Architecture" and "Preliminary Concept of Spiritual Energy Code-ification" written on them.

He reached out and stroked the sketch, his fingertips stopping at the location of the Chen Family's original dilapidated ancestral hall.

"At that time, we couldn't even forge a decent sword," he said in a low voice, "And now? Mecha can fly into the sky, Formations can reverse fate, and even the magic of the Elf Race can be integrated into the energy System."

He withdrew his hand, turned, and walked back to the intelligence screen.

"I am not afraid of you joining forces," he stared at the names marked in red on the screen, "I am only afraid that you will not come."

He raised his hand again, and this time, his fingertips rested gently on the edge of the communication activation button.

In the next second, he was about to press it.

The entire Chen Family would be awakened, and a silent reckoning was about to begin.

But at this very moment, he stopped.

Because he knew that the true breakthrough did not rely on a single order, but on letting those wavering people see for themselves—

who the true master of this era really was.