The morning sun broke over Xingzhao's eastern hills, casting golden light across the wide valley now bustling with new life. Where once stood a makeshift village of hastily constructed huts, now rose sturdy homes, wide streets, and vibrant marketplaces filled with laughter and industry.
At the heart of this transformation stood a structure newly completed: a grand three-story building with glass windows, wide courtyards, and engraved gates that read
"Academy of Enlightenment."
The academy opened its doors with the ringing of a bronze bell. Hundreds of children stood in neat rows, clad in simple uniforms woven from Song Lian's newly introduced textile processes, breathable, durable, and dyed with natural pigments.
Inside, classrooms were equipped with blackboards, writing desks, and even lanterns that hummed with steady electricity during the darker hours. A combination of chalk and digital projection tools allowed the educators to present both traditional literature and modern science.
Subjects included:
Classical studies: literature, poetry, ethics, and imperial history.
Mathematics and physics, adapted from Song Lian's modern world.
Agricultural sciences: irrigation, soil study, and crop rotation.
Practical engineering: windmills, aqueducts, and water filtration systems.
Civic ethics and public duty.
At the front of the inaugural class stood Master Zheng, a former imperial scholar who had fled the capital under suspicion for his outspoken views. With eyes misty from emotion, he addressed the students.
"This is more than a school. This is a sanctuary for thought, for questions, and for change. Never let your minds go hungry."
The students, most of whom had never dreamed of seeing a book, let alone reading one, bowed in respect.
Beyond the town's protective walls, sweeping fields of green stretched into the horizon. Song Lian stood atop a watchtower with Yun Zhen beside her as the first drone-assisted irrigation systemactivated.
Though she'd carefully disguised it as a mechanical hawk for appearances' sake, the results were clear. Barrels of nutrient-rich water cascaded through a gravity-powered channel network, distributed evenly across every section of farmland.
At the western edge, new greenhouses shimmered in the morning dew, built from salvaged solar sheets and reinforced wood. Inside grew exotic vegetables and medicinal herbs, their growth cycles accelerated with controlled lighting and heating.
Artificial compost stations, automated plowing drones disguised as wooden beetles, and moisture-monitoring probes hidden within the soil worked quietly to create an agricultural marvel.
Song Lian looked to Yun Zhen. "We'll be self-sufficient within a season. Maybe two."
He nodded, then looked out toward the horizon. "And your anti-surveillance system?"
Song Lian smiled and looked at him as she continued. "In place as of this morning."
Buried within the stone walls of Xingzhao were signal disruptors, small hexagonal modules powered by solar energy and protected with a low-grade cloaking array. They emitted pulses that interfered with external scrying spells, spiritual probes, and long-range scouting drones.
The system was supplemented with sound-dampening barriers on the outer perimeter and thermal shielding cloaks for hidden structures. Even the air shimmered faintly with protective enchantments calibrated to confuse qi detection.
No spy, magical or mechanical, would see past Xingzhao's curtain without alerting the central monitoring core housed in Song Lian's underground lab.
"We're a ghost on the map now," she said.
Yun Zhen smirked. "Then it's time they feared what they can't find."
Far to the south in Yunjing City, the gilded halls of the imperial court stirred with whispers. The Emperor sat cloaked in golden silk, surrounded by his closest ministers. His fingers tapped irritably against the dragon-engraved armrest of his throne.
"The town remains unresponsive to all our summons."
"No scouts have returned."
"They've vanished. It's sorcery, perhaps alchemy—perhaps treason."
The reports had grown stranger by the week.
Grain yields from the Xingzhao region had tripled since their last tax extraction, and yet no cart had arrived bearing tribute.
Caravans sent to reestablish contact disappeared without a trace. And now, informants within the Black Hall reported technology and knowledge previously thought impossible.
"Are you suggesting," said Minister Qiao, narrowing his eyes, "that Yun Zhen lives and governs there still?"
Another voice rose. "If so, then he must be eradicated. He knows too much. His presence is a symbol of defiance."
Whispers filled the court. The Emperor's voice finally cut through the noise.
"If Yun Zhen is alive… and this 'Song Lian' continues to poison the people with false miracles and systems beyond our grasp, then they must both be brought to heel. And if they refuse?"
He leaned forward. "Burn them."