70: Chapter 70: Minor Clans' Subservience, the Emergence of an Alliance

The morning light had just crawled over the stone steps of the mountain gate when the first caravan arrived.

Unlike the tentative approach of yesterday where they stopped far away, this time they drove straight to the front courtyard of the Main Hall. As the carriage curtain was lifted, Elder Xu stepped down alone. He held a Jade Talisman in both hands, his steps heavy as if treading on the tip of a blade.

He did not walk the main path, but took a curved route, placing the Jade Talisman gently on the bluestone table in front of the guard station. He whispered, "If the Family Head is free, please take a look."

The guard neither took it nor stopped him. He only raised his eyes to look toward the high pavilion.

The window of the pavilion was half-open. Chen Wuwang stood in the shadows, his fingertips holding a piece of spiritual-patterned paper as thin as a cicada's wing—it was the Jade Slip he had put away last night.

He did not move, but his gaze swept out in the direction from which the Xu Family caravan had come—the second, the third. Banners had already appeared at the bend of the mountain road, each embroidered with four characters: "Willing to affiliate with the Chen Clan."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, though he did not laugh aloud.

He turned and said to the guard behind him, "Reply that the Family Head is at the Stargazing Platform calculating the flow of the Spiritual Vein and is not receiving guests for the moment."

The guard received the order and left.

Chen Wuwang did not leave; he remained standing by the window, watching those banners being lowered one by one. The leaders of the various clans stepped off their carriages one after another and gathered in the front courtyard. No one made a noise, and no one left.

They did not bow or kneel; they simply stood there, like a group of people waiting for the wind.

He knew what they were waiting for.

Waiting for an attitude, waiting for a definitive word, waiting for a turning point from "fearing you" to "relying on you."

But he could not be impatient.

He walked down the stairs slowly. His steps were not heavy, yet every footfall landed precisely on the seams of the blue bricks, emitting a crisp "click."

The people in the front courtyard noticed the movement and looked up in unison.

Chen Wuwang wore a black robe, the outline of a runic dagger pressed against his cuff. He still wore that pair of black jade lenses on his face, covering the old scar on his right cheek.

He did not look at the gift boxes, nor did he take the Jade Talisman. He walked straight into the Main Hall, leaving behind only one sentence: "Invite them in."

The hall doors opened wide.

The leaders of the Seven Clans filed in. After standing still, they exchanged glances—there was hesitation, probing, and an undisguisable eagerness.

Chen Wuwang sat on the high platform. He did not accept their gifts, did not receive their bows, and did not pour tea.

He only pushed the map of the Spiritual Vein by his side an inch toward the center of the table, lightly tapped the location of the rift valley on the map, and asked, "What are you afraid of?"

The hall fell silent.

The Elder of the Zhao Clan of Xiling hesitated for a moment before speaking first: "Afraid that the Yao Race will return."

Deacon Lin of the Nangu Lin Family followed immediately: "Afraid of being annexed by large clans."

The envoy from the Northern Plains Sun Clan had the deepest voice: "Afraid that a single tree cannot support the weight, and we will be overturned in a single night."

Once one person finished speaking, another followed. Some feared the exhaustion of resources, some feared their Disciples would die in battle, and some feared their ancestral graves would be dug up and their ancestral halls burned.

Chen Wuwang listened without interrupting.

When the last person finished, he slowly stood up and walked to the map of the Spiritual Vein. His fingertips traced across the continuous region in the northern part of the Eastern Wasteland, from the rift valley to the borderlands, from the mineral veins to the river valleys, drawing a line all the way to the end.

"I am afraid too," he said. "Afraid that those standing here today will die in the rift valley tomorrow, with no bodies left, and not even anyone to collect them."

Everyone was shaken.

His voice was not loud, yet it was like an iron hammer smashing into an ice sheet.

"But what I fear more is that when we could clearly survive, because no one trusts anyone, and everyone wants to take a little more, we all end up dead." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room. "So, don't talk to me about affiliation. I do not accept servants, nor do I want tributes."

He raised his hand, pointing to the location of the Chen Clan in the center of the map: "We are going to survive—live together. Build an Alliance."

You could hear a pin drop in the hall.

"Not for hegemony, not for territorial expansion," his voice deepened. "Only to protect our homes and guard our descendants. Whoever wants to leave, leave now. Whoever wants to stay, must stake their lives."

Three breaths after his voice fell, no one moved.

Then, Elder Xu suddenly stepped forward, placed one hand on his chest, and bowed: "My Xu Family is willing to join the Alliance."

"My Zhao Clan is willing to join the Alliance!" "The Lin Family is here, swearing to uphold the Alliance!" "The Sun Clan is willing to advance and retreat together!"

One voice after another, like waves crashing against the shore.

Chen Wuwang did not smile, nor did he nod. He just watched quietly, and only after the last person finished speaking did he ask in a low voice:

"If in the future an external enemy presses upon our borders, and you require mecha protection, require resource support, and require the Chen Clan to charge at the front—what, then, can you offer?"

As soon as these words were spoken, their expressions changed.

The Elder of the Zhao Clan hurriedly said: "Our clan has three tributaries of a Spiritual Vein; we are willing to share exploration rights."

Deacon Lin gritted his teeth: "We can provide fifty alchemist Disciples to assist in cultivating mutated spiritual plants."

The envoy from the Sun Clan was direct: "Two cold-iron mines; for ten years, thirty percent of the output will belong to the Alliance."

Chen Wuwang listened, noncommittal.

He knew these promises were watered down, and he knew these people still had their own hidden agendas. But that was not important.

What was important was that they were finally willing to talk about "us," rather than "you, the Chen Clan."

He raised his hand, stopping the subsequent jockeying.

"The Alliance covenant is not just paper," he said. "It is something exchanged for lives. Signing it now is too early."

Everyone was stunned.

"Three days from now," his gaze swept across the room. "In this hall, we will hold the first Alliance assembly. Bring your sincerity, and bring your questions—how to defend? How to distribute? How to fight? We will discuss them one by one."

His tone was calm, yet carried an indisputable force: "Those who do not want to talk, need not come. Those who want to coast, go back early. For this Alliance, I want living people, not memorial tablets."

Having said that, he turned and walked toward the inner desk, saying no more.

The leaders of the various clans looked at each other; some frowned, some were deep in thought, and some quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

They knew this was not the end, but the beginning.

Before leaving, Elder Xu looked back.

Chen Wuwang was looking down, flipping through the Jade Slip, the tip of his brush adding a line of small characters at the end: "Five usable ones."

Then, he inserted the Jade Slip into a hidden compartment under the desk, his movements crisp and neat.

Outside the hall, sunlight flooded the corridor. The caravans left one by one, and the sound of hooves faded into the distance.

He was the only one left in the hall.

He stood in the center of the empty Main Hall, his gaze sweeping over the seven empty chairs, as if he had already seen the confrontations, maneuvers, compromises, and Alliances that would take place three days later.

He did not move, only saying in a low voice, "This is just the beginning."

His fingers tapped on the table three times unconsciously.

Seven taps away from the System refresh time.