390: Chapter 390 The Chen Family Stands Tall, Becoming a Top Force

The morning light had just crawled over the mountain ridge, and the stone slabs in front of the ancestral shrine were still damp with night dew, but the crowd had already dispersed.

The crisp sound of the youths sheathing their swords still lingered in his ears, while the figures of the old clansmen leaving with their canes had already melted into the morning mist.

Chen Wuwang did not move; he remained standing on the high platform. The wind whipped up his long, silver-white hair, and the three old scars on his right cheek looked like etched runes under the sunlight.

Below, the forging hammers of the Artifact Refining Workshop began to ring out again, one after another, steady as a heartbeat.

Over at the Medicinal Field, the herb gatherers lined up, bending over to harvest the Spiritual Plants with uniform, synchronized movements.

On the edge of the training grounds, a few half-grown children were sparring with wooden swords, while a young instructor stood nearby, shouting at the top of his lungs: "Raise your elbows! Don't let your shoulders slump!"

A mech swept overhead, its wake tracing a pale blue arc as it landed steadily at a turning point on the patrol route.

Another one was hovering in the direction of the South Ridge, its cannon muzzle slightly adjusting its angle as a scanning beam swept across the ground.

"Clan Chief." Xiao Wu hurried up, gripping a copper plaque in his hand. "The west gate light Formation has been tested. Chen Xiaoshi says the signal is stable and can last the whole night."

Chen Wuwang took the copper plaque, his fingertips brushing over the rune carvings on it, and gave a hum of acknowledgment.

"Also, people from Liuye Village arrived before dawn. They delivered three carts of star-meteorite ore, saying it was to 'make up for yesterday's meager gift'."

Xiao Wu grinned. "Sha Laoqi also sent people, asking if the trade route agreement could be signed ahead of schedule."

Chen Wuwang handed the copper plaque back. "Note it down. Make them wait for now."

"Yes!" Xiao Wu turned to leave, but stopped again. "Um... you've been standing there all morning. Why don't you rest for a while? Your meal is being kept warm for you."

"I'm not hungry." Chen Wuwang gazed into the distance.

Xiao Wu did not try to persuade him further and bowed his head as he retreated.

The wind grew stronger, causing the sheet-metal flag on the flagpole to clatter loudly. The battered piece of sheet metal from thirty years ago had long been replaced with an alloy plate, but the sound remained the same—harsh, yet reassuring.

An old craftsman walked past the bottom of the steps, carrying a pile of parts in his arms. His steps were slow, and his back was severely hunched. As he passed the high platform, he looked up, his hand trembled, and a bolt fell to the ground. Cling—

The old man hurriedly bent down to pick it up. Chen Wuwang jumped off the high platform, stepped forward, and picked up the bolt before him.

"Old Zhang," he said, handing the bolt over. "Things like this aren't easy to make these days."

The old man froze, taking it with both hands, his lips trembling slightly. "C-Clan Chief... I just... I was afraid of delaying things."

"You've worked your whole life and haven't delayed a single day." Chen Wuwang patted his shoulder. "The new mining zone in the South Ridge still relies on you veterans to oversee it."

The old man's eyes suddenly turned red, and he choked out a sentence: "It was worth it... it was truly worth it."

After speaking, he stumbled a few steps while clutching the parts, then turned back to bow deeply before continuing on.

Chen Wuwang did not stop him, only watching that hunched figure until it disappeared into the entrance of the workshop.

"Clan Chief!" Another voice called out. It was Aunt Li from the Medicinal Field, running up with a basket in her hand, a smile on her face. "I just gathered these Dew-Condensing Herbs; I saved the best ones for you. They're best for nourishing the spirit when boiled in porridge!"

"Thank you." Chen Wuwang took the basket. It was heavy, and water droplets still clung to the herb leaves.

"Don't be so polite!" Aunt Li waved her hand. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be able to protect this Medicinal Field. It's better now; the children can go to school, the old folks can retire, and even those outside powers bow and scrape when they see us!"

She became more excited as she spoke. "I tell my family, the reason our Chen Clan can have today is entirely because you are holding it all up!"

Chen Wuwang smiled but didn't respond to that, merely saying: "I'll accept the herbs. I'll have the kitchen add some honey later."

"Alright! Will do!" Aunt Li walked away happily.

Chen Wuwang carried the basket and walked slowly along the edge of the high platform. Everything below was in motion—mechs ascending into the sky, Pill Furnaces opening their lids, the faint light of Formations flowing, and children drilling in Formations.

No one was shouting slogans, but there was a certain energy in everyone's movements. This was not yesterday's "prefer death to retreat," but today's "do what needs to be done."

He walked to the edge of the platform and leaned over to touch the stone railing. The stone was scorched hot by the sun, and a few wild grasses had sprouted from the cracks—tender and green, swaying gently in the wind.

"Clan Chief!" Someone called again. This time it was the squad leader from the training grounds, running over, drenched in sweat. "We just finished practicing the new Formation, and everyone met the standard! The kids say they're waiting for you to inspect them!"

"This afternoon," Chen Wuwang said. "Let them eat first; don't let them train on empty stomachs."

"Yes!" The squad leader saluted and ran off.

Chen Wuwang looked up. In the distance, the Spiritual Vein meandered like a golden thread, running through the entire territory. The light shield of the defensive Formation was nearly transparent in the sunlight, like a film of water floating in the air.

Further away, on the watchtowers of other powers, figures were moving, clearly observing this side.

He knew what they were looking at. Thirty years ago, the Chen Clan was the weakest branch in the Eastern Wastelands. After the insectoid race massacred the village, they didn't even have a decent pot.

Now, mechs could fly into the sky, Formations protected the land, and even the most remote mining zones had unearthed branch veins. This didn't fall from the sky; it was carved out with every hammer strike and chisel blow.

He walked slowly to the center of the high platform. The wind grew stronger, whipping his robes with a loud flapping sound. The people below looked up one after another; seeing him, no one spoke, but their movements became even more efficient.

The craftsmen sped up their work, the herbalists gathered an extra handful of herbs, and the patrolling mechs changed direction, flying a segment toward his location.

"Clan Chief!" Xiao Wu popped up again, panting. "News just came from the North Valley—the pure yang thunder marrow has landed! Our people have already taken control of the site, not a single drop was missed!"

Chen Wuwang nodded.

"Also, the old Clan Chief of the Lin Clan sent someone to ask if they could send their disciples to learn at the Artifact Refining Workshop. They said they are willing to pay double the Spirit Stones!"

"Accept them," Chen Wuwang said. "Follow the rules; don't make exceptions."

"Understood!" Xiao Wu noted it down, then hesitated. "Um... would you like to give a speech? Everyone is waiting."

"What is there to say?" Chen Wuwang gazed into the distance.

"Just say... we've made it through, and things will be even better in the future!"

Chen Wuwang did not answer. He removed his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye and wiped the lens with a cloth, revealing his ordinary eye. The sunlight pierced in, a bit blinding, and he squinted.

Thirty years had passed. He saw that tattered sheet-metal flag in the ruins, saw the insectoid claws tearing open the roof of the ancestral shrine, saw the first mech ascending into the sky amidst the flames, saw the youths raising their swords for the first time, saw the old craftsman crying as he said, "I can still work."

He saw everyone, step by step, crawling out of the mud to stand on this high platform.

He put the Mechanical Prosthetic Eye back on, and a cold light flashed.

"We have stood up," he said in a low voice. It wasn't loud, sounding like he was talking to himself. "But the higher we go, the stronger the wind blows."

The wind was indeed stronger. It surged from all directions, carrying prying eyes, wariness, greed, and unease.

He looked toward the direction of the Sea of Stars. It was pitch black there, and he couldn't see anything, but he knew there was more than one path.

"From now on," he raised his hand and pointed into the distance, "it is not just about surviving."

His finger remained steady in mid-air. "It is about venturing out."