58: Chapter 58 Demonstrating Strength, Intimidating All Sides

The morning breeze still carried the scent of scorched earth, and Chen Wuwang's footsteps did not stop.

He crossed the edge of the training grounds through piles of residual embers. The ruts crushed by the treads had not yet been filled, and several pieces of shattered talismans were stuck in the stone crevices, trembling slightly in the wind.

Thirty mechas had returned to the camp and were lined up, their outer shells emitting low-frequency hums as they cooled, like crouching beasts panting.

The Council Hall doors opened automatically before him. The heavy spiritual wood panels slid silently to the sides, revealing the brightly lit hall within.

The hall was already filled with figures.

The leaders of the seventy-two small clans of the Eastern Desolation were gathered together, some sitting and some standing, their robes neat and their expressions varied.

Some lowered their heads to fiddle with their Clan Seals, some had eyes that twitched slightly, and a few leaned against the back pillars, seemingly casual but with ears strained to catch every sound.

They all knew what had happened last night.

The Zhao, Wang, and Li families had attacked in full force, with three thousand Cultivators breaking through the South River Valley defense line. And the result? In less than two hours, they were completely defeated. The Formation eye's flagpole was severed, and captives knelt in swaths, their pleas for mercy suppressed in their throats.

But some still held onto a shred of hope.

“No matter how strong a mecha is, it’s ultimately an external object,” the Elder Patriarch of the Sun Family whispered to the person beside him. “When it truly reaches the level of a Soul Transformation duel, a single strand of Sword Intent can split that iron shell—what we cultivate is the Dao, not Artifact Refining.”

He didn't dare say it loudly, yet it spread quietly through the crowd.

Glances were exchanged; some nodded, some sneered, but most remained silent.

There were those who were defiant and those who were afraid, but no one dared to speak out openly.

Just then, the sound of footsteps arrived.

Neither rushed nor slow, each step resonated against the bluestone floor tiles like a hammer against the heart.

Chen Wuwang walked in. He wore no battle armor or cloak, only a set of black tight-fitting clothes, with the titanium alloy dagger engraved with runes hanging at his waist. His left Mechanical Prosthetic Eye glinted with a faint cold light as it scanned the room; whoever it landed on instinctively lowered their head.

He said nothing and walked directly up the high steps to the main seat, standing at the very top.

He did not sit, offer greetings, or even acknowledge the looks being sent his way.

He simply raised his hand and gave a light wave.

Buzz—

The Void Realm behind him split open, and a Spirit Array projection instantly unfolded.

The images were silent, yet more powerful than any roar.

Thirty mechas lined up to return to camp, metal treads crushing scorched earth, sword tips pointing diagonally at the sky; swaths of captives crouched on the ground with hands behind their heads, lacking even the courage to look up; a dirty, trampled Zhao family banner lay quietly in the mud, with no one daring to pick it up.

This wasn't a battle report or a rumor; it was solid visual evidence.

And it was a real-time playback—on the screen, smoke was still rising from the shoulder of one mecha, clearly having just withdrawn from the battlefield.

The hall fell into a pin-drop silence.

Those who had been whispering shut their mouths, those leaning against pillars straightened their backs, and even their breathing became light.

Only then did Chen Wuwang speak. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a blade:

“I have summoned you all here today not to celebrate, but to establish the hierarchy.”

He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone. “Three years ago, you called my Chen family a discarded clan. Before yesterday, you mocked me for replacing Flying Swords with iron shells. And now?”

He took a step forward.

“Whose Disciple still dares to set foot within ten miles of the Eastern Desolation?”

Another step.

“Whose mineral vein dares to be mined without my Chen family's permission?”

With every question, he took a step forward, his Aura surging like a tide, forcing several people in the front row to retreat repeatedly. Someone's foot slipped and they nearly fell, managing to steady themselves with a flushed face, not daring to make a sound.

The Elder Patriarch of the Sun Family finally couldn't help himself. He gritted his teeth and looked up. “Mechas may be strong, but they are external objects! How can they represent cultivation? A true Cultivator relies on their own Realm, not these... iron lumps!”

As the words fell, his chest heaved as if he had exhausted all his strength.

But Chen Wuwang only smiled.

A cold smile.

His right Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered, and a cold light flashed across the old man's face, making him jerk his neck back in fear.

“You say they are external objects?” Chen Wuwang walked slowly down the steps, his pace steady. “Then let me ask you—if your Sect's mountain-protecting array were bombarded by thirty-six Rune Missiles simultaneously, how many breaths could your ‘personal cultivation’ endure?”

He closed in a step, his voice dropping low. “Can you slash lightning with a Flying Sword? Or can your Nascent Soul withstand the shockwave of an explosion?”

No one answered.

“I'll ask you another.” He surveyed the hall. “Which of your families hasn't survived by hiding behind a clan-protecting array? Is a Formation not an external object? Is a Medicinal Pill not an external object? Are Spiritual Artifacts and Magic Treasures not external objects?”

“Since all of those can be used, why is it that only my Chen family's mechas won't do?”

“Is it because they are too strong, so strong that you cannot control them, which is why you call them ‘heresy’?”

As the last sentence left his mouth, the entire Council Hall seemed to freeze.

Sweat beaded on some foreheads, some fingers trembled, and no one dared to breathe heavily.

Chen Wuwang stopped looking at them and turned back to the high platform. With a wave of his sleeve, the projection switched.

A map of the entire Eastern Desolation appeared in the air, with mountains and rivers clearly visible.

Immediately after, thirty red dots flashed in synchronization, distributed across various key roads, mineral veins, and passes—these were the current defensive positions of the thirty mechas.

“From this day forward, the Chen family is the overlord of the Eastern Desolation.” His voice was calm, yet more soul-shaking than thunder. “Those willing to sign the covenant, stay; those unwilling...”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

“...may leave now.”

The air solidified.

“But let me remind you—” His voice suddenly turned cold. “If those who walk out of this door come back to plead for help in the future, do not blame me for not opening the door.”

The entire hall was deathly silent.

Some closed their eyes, seemingly struggling; some gripped their Clan Seals so hard their knuckles turned white; others peeked toward the door, their feet shifting slightly but then stopping abruptly.

They knew this wasn't an invitation; it was an ultimatum.

One minute passed.

Two minutes passed.

Finally, an elderly leader stood up. His hair was white as snow, and leaning on a cane, he walked step by step to the front. He placed his Clan Seal symbolically on the table and bowed.

“My Lin Clan is willing to sign the temporary covenant.”

As the words fell, a second person stood up.

A third.

A fourth...

One after another, they came forward to submit their Clan Seals and sign the Jade Slips. Some moved quickly, some slowly, but without exception, all chose to stay.

No one left.

Chen Wuwang stood on the high platform, watching all of this with a cold eye.

He did not smile, nor did he say any polite words like “welcome to the partnership.” He knew these people didn't respect him; they feared him.

They feared that with one command, the mechas would arrive.

They feared that with one thought, he could blockade mines for thousands of miles.

They feared that he didn't need to act himself; a single order could paralyze the entire Eastern Desolation.

This was true deterrence.

When the last Clan Chief handed over their Clan Seal, Chen Wuwang finally raised his hand slightly.

“The covenants are stored. You may all return.”

Everyone lowered their heads and filed out.

Near the door, someone couldn't help but glance back.

They saw Chen Wuwang still standing on the high platform, holding a scroll, his shadow stretched long by the lamplight like an unshakable monument.

That person quickly withdrew their gaze and hurried away.

The hall was finally quiet.

Only he remained.

He looked down at the temporary covenant in his hand, his fingertips brushing across the surface of the Jade Slip, confirming that all the Divine Sense imprints were correct.

Then, he slowly looked up toward the outside of the Council Hall.

The sky was bright, but the morning mist had not yet dispersed.

Outside the main fortress gate, a group of figures dressed like traveling merchants was slowly approaching. The leader wore a white long robe with a star map emblem hanging on his chest.

He knew who had come.

But he didn't move.

He simply tucked the covenant scroll into his robes and stood there, like a sword that had not yet been unsheathed.

The wind blew in from the door, fluttering the corners of his clothes.

He stood, unmoving.