Grace

Whether it was a dragon or a snake remained to be seen, but no one had touched him, nor had there been the anticipated harassment or hostility. On the top-floor terrace of Tacheng's tallest downtown building—a seventy-one-story luxury resort hotel—the lights blazed, and a champagne tower refracted sparkling, crystal-clear brilliance. Laughter rippled through the soft music. Waiters with swarthy skin and curly hair moved politely through the crowd bearing trays of food and glassware, elegantly offering whatever the distinguished guests needed before discreetly stepping back into the shadows. It was a familiar, garden-variety cocktail reception. Within the harmonious, jovial atmosphere, everyone wore humble, genial expressions or beamed with radiant smiles, occasionally letting out the deep, resonant, old-money chuckles that made poor people's wallets tremble. Hearing that laughter practically gave Ji Jue PTSD. Under the glow of the crystal chandeliers, everything seemed gilded with gold. In that festive, joyous ambience, it felt as though one had arrived in heaven. Guests came and went, far more numerous than Ji Jue had imagined. It looked almost like an annual gala for some massive corporation—though in reality, it wasn't much different. Nearly every figure of note from around Tacheng was gathered here, elegantly and courteously exchanging greetings, burying the hatred in their hearts and the disgust in their eyes, washing the blood from their hands before stepping up to receive their "instruction." Yes, instruction. When it came down to it, this banquet was essentially no different from a press conference, except it wasn't directed at the public, but at all the attendees and the conglomerates, institutions, and organizations they represented. Five minutes after it began, the event was basically over. At the invitation of the host, Mr. Shaban, CEO of Zhengrong Group, Lieutenant General Fan Yun, commander of the Federation's Tacheng garrison base, and Duke Passarella, commander of the Empire's garrison base, delivered joint remarks one after the other. In their brief addresses, both sides politely extolled the improvement and stability of the Mid-Continent's situation over recent years, offering recognition and praise for each other's efforts. At the end of their speeches, both parties unanimously declared that moving forward, they would invest even greater human and material resources, strive harder to maintain order, improve public security, fully guarantee the stable output of the phlogiston and nonferrous metal industries, and stride toward a brighter future—and so on and so forth. It was a lot of bullshit, with plenty of fluff to ignore, and only that final section was the true purpose—a public statement of intent. To put it simply: first, supply; second, stability. Life or death didn't matter, nothing else mattered—just increase production, ramp up quotas, and boost exports! No matter what happened, don't you dare delay my phlogiston and mineral supplies—not even if the sky falls! Otherwise, don't blame me for not showing any mercy. Amid applause and praise, everyone warmly welcomed an even more rapacious extraction and squeeze. In the crowd, Ji Jue clapped along, blending seamlessly into the atmosphere. At a critical juncture like this, forcibly suppressing all conflicts just to preserve a veneer of stability while jacking up exports and production was entirely setting fire to fuel, drinking poison to quench a thirst—not to mention how many lives would be ground down in the mines and phlogiston fields! The so-called peace was merely a cooperative session of bloodletting and slow slicing carried out by the Federation and the Empire before the outbreak of war. The attendees had, to varying degrees, received word in advance. None wore expressions of bereavement. Instead, their faces were plastered with beaming smiles, brimming with gratitude, basking in the light graciously bestowed by the Federation and the Empire as if standing under the sun, moved to endless tears. Once their speeches concluded, the two commanders were escorted to their private suites, surrounded by subordinates and compliments. The reason everyone remained, lingering until the bitter end, was merely to shoot the breeze and kill time while awaiting a potential summons from those private rooms. The big bosses above might not know who left last, but everyone would remember clear as day who dared to leave first—did you have a problem with their magnificent decision to preserve peace and stabilize order?! Even though this was Ji Jue's first time attending such a banquet, he didn't feel neglected in the slightest. Even if he was an unknown in this region, rumors of Haichao Armaments expanding its market had long swept across Tacheng. Besides, Haian Industries' tricycles, vans, and refrigerators were circulating with remarkable ubiquity. In everyone's eyes, the two developments were inextricably linked. They were convinced Ji Jue intended to pull the exact same trick again! Just as Haian Auto Works had done when it clawed its way back into the armaments sphere, he likely intended to carve open a breakthrough in the civilian market, build an advantage, vie for the local market, and then intervene in local conflicts to expand rapidly. After all, the resemblance was uncanny! Ji Jue had done it before. Even if he hadn't planned on it, that was his most familiar playbook and trajectory, and he wouldn't mind running it again. "Mr. Ji is truly young and promising! Such a young craftsman of Celestial Craft—many masters across the Mid-Continent speak of you constantly, heaping on the praise!" A chubby, dark-skinned man in a turban clasped Ji Jue's hands, his smile hearty and warm. "If you ever consider selling your works, you must think of me first!" The speaker was the host of the banquet, the true power behind the Zhengrong Group, and the Dragon Head of Tacheng's Wild Gathering—Shaban. Not a hint of arrogance or rejection showed on his face, only glowing enthusiasm. As for what he said... Ji Jue figured that while some craftsmen might certainly hold a grudge and speak of him constantly, "heaping on the praise" was absolute hogwash. Did he not know his own reputation? Did peers not know peers? Setting aside how hypocritical peers were when doling out compliments, he knew all too well how foul they sounded when slinging curses. Had you ever seen someone fire off fifteen consecutive sixty-second voice messages? Ji Jue had seen more than enough! "Certainly, certainly! Definitely next time!" Ji Jue gripped his hand with matching warmth, beaming as though reuniting with a long-lost brother, pouring out auspicious pleasantries by the mouthful! Perhaps everyone else at the banquet viewed him as a thorn in their side, but Shaban never would. To Shaban, Ji Jue was nothing less than the prime contributor to his annual KPIs, a benevolent benefactor who had dropped from the heavens to stimulate the local economy. The Wild Gathering didn't care who arrived. Whether Tacheng fell into chaos or not might not be up to the local Wild Gathering, but whether in chaos or calm, the local Wild Gathering would invariably make the biggest profit. He would take orders from anyone, turn a profit on both ends, and then sell the intelligence to a third party to profit once more. As long as it didn't conflict with a resolution from the Wild Gathering, he was strictly neutral. Without an order from the Chief, he would never take a side. Even if Chen Xingzhou and his shipping trade raked in mountains of cash, it made no difference. As host, Shaban enthusiastically took Ji Jue by the arm to introduce him to the guests present. Yet, before he could introduce even two, they were interrupted. A gaunt, pale officer stepped out of a private suite and walked straight toward the pair. A faint, scarlet gleam seemed to smolder like will-o'-the-wisps in his eyes, radiating formidable pressure. "Major Li, care for a drink?" Shaban handed over a glass of champagne with a genial chuckle. "No need." Major Li glanced at the glass, shifted his gaze to Ji Jue's face, studied him for a moment, and coldly pulled back his eyes. "Follow me." "Looks like this is General Fan's intent," Shaban beamed, patting Ji Jue on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Mr. Ji! You've barely arrived, and you've already caught the general's eye." "I'm flattered. Excuse me for a moment." Ji Jue smiled and fell into step behind Major Li. Crossing the hall, they arrived before the private suite. The major cast him a sidelong glance, turned, and walked away, leaving behind a single word: "Wait." A long time passed before the door finally opened. A bearded local man was escorted out with excessive courtesy, thanking his host effusively before taking his leave. Yet his expression was dazed, his face pale, and he nearly stumbled as he walked. "You're Ji Jue, right?" The general seeing the guest off smiled warmly and gestured. "Come in. My apologies for keeping you waiting so long." "General Fan has a hundred affairs to tend to. A short wait is nothing." Ji Jue kept his polite smile intact. The man appeared rather aged, his crew-cut hair flecked with silver like stiff steel needles, his skin loose. He walked with a slight limp, relying on a cane to hobble forward. This was the military commander of the Tacheng garrison base, one of the Military Department's key bosses in Tacheng—and across the Mid-Continent: Lieutenant General Fan Yun. "Make yourself comfortable. Sit, sit. We're all on the same side." The general leaned back into the sofa, raised his glass, and took a sip. "Xiao Lü mentioned you specifically. Back when she served in the Mid-Continent, I practically raised her myself. Who would've thought so many years would pass in the blink of an eye... My secretary told me about your appointment request. I figured since you're already here, we might as well meet." Ji Jue lowered his head, maintaining a respectful posture. "Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts, General." "You really are Xiao Lü's person—you even smile the exact same way." Fan Yun glanced at him with an emotional sigh. "I can see you're not the type to sit still. But the Mid-Continent isn't like other places. Once you've suffered a loss and bruised your head against the wall, you have to learn to be careful." "You're quite right." Ji Jue nodded as if enlightened by celestial music, brimming with agreement and gratitude. "She loves to gamble. Whenever she sees an opening, she stakes everything she owns to go all-in; what she loves most is pulling chestnuts from the fire. "With the Security Bureau backing her and the military supporting her, she's had smooth sailing all these years. But sticking her fingers into the affairs of the Li and Di families this time was far too reckless. "I'm an old man with only a few years left until retirement. I really don't want to get mixed up in these wretched, sordid messes. Your troubles, you can sort out yourselves." Fan Yun made no attempt to conceal his thoughts, speaking plainly. "You might not be used to the tastes of the Mid-Continent, but the food at the Tacheng base is nourishing enough. If you can't stomach what's outside, come back early to rest. "Alright, an old fool running his mouth like this only invites annoyance. It's a good thing for young people to want to venture out and make a name for themselves. As for what comes next, you're on your own." As one of the Federation's representatives in the Mid-Continent, Fan Yun saw no reason to beat around the bush with a minor figure like Ji Jue, nor did he intend to get dragged into the mess between the homeland's Military Department and the local factions. Sitting high enough, one had every right to watch the storm brew and observe with cold detachment. With that, he raised his glass and emptied it in a single gulp. A dismissal. Ji Jue raised the glass of whiskey before him, poured it down his throat, rose, and bade farewell with impeccable decorum. He had completed what was, in a sense, his audience.