The Taste of Power

Liao Lang and Liang Chao hesitated briefly, then each picked up a wine glass and walked over toward Lu Zhao. Lu Zhao sat in the head seat. He was unaccustomed to such occasions, but in this moment he knew how to carry himself. Without prior agreement, both Liao Lang and Liang Chao lowered the rims of their glasses below Lu Zhao's before throwing their heads back and draining them in a single gulp. The movements were executed with smooth, fluid grace, so subtle that one might have missed them without paying close attention. "Staff Officer Lu, please look out for us going forward." Immediately after, the other junior officers rose to their feet one by one. The deputy commander of the Duty Company, the operations staff officer of the Mobile Company, a platoon leader from the Support Company... Holding their glasses, they approached Lu Zhao in succession. In stark contrast to their past aloofness, every face was adorned with smiles and flattery. There was no preannounced order or deliberate arrangement, yet each person's post, standing, and military rank formed a clear hierarchy. A silent yet strikingly vivid distinction between superior and subordinate laid itself bare before Lu Zhao. In the past, he had never taken part in social banquets; since coming to the border defense station, he had spent most of his time feeding mosquitoes out in the deep woods. He glanced over at Zhang Like, who raised a glass and smiled back at him—a smile that seemed to say a single phrase: *This is power.* Banquet drinking culture flourished in Federation society—or, more accurately, the culture of power. Ever since the Cataclysm, society had been undergoing relentless, turbulent chemical reactions. The restructuring of the Hall of Martial Virtue, worsening conflicts between the Hua and foreigners, skyrocketing pressures of survival, rampant violent crime, the emergence of syndicates rivaling pre-Cataclysm small nations in scale, the looming threat of beast tides... In an age of chaos, people became the critical resource, and superhumans occupied the dominant position. People themselves, far more than rules written on paper, symbolized power—and the banquet table was the consummate arena of power. From the Martial Marquises looking down upon the Federation from the clouds as they carved up interests in the halls of circuit politics, down to street gang bosses staking out turf in back alleys, everything ultimately relied on people to execute. And most of the time, "people" specifically meant superhumans. Tonight's celebratory banquet was meant to cement Lu Zhao's leadership standing, because his level of life-force development was the highest, and Zhang Like was willing to elevate him. After three rounds of drinks, the atmosphere grew even livelier. When Lu Zhao stood up, everyone else immediately fell silent and looked over. The sensation of swaying others with his every move was like an intravenous shot of stimulant, sharpening his senses and widening his horizons. He spoke: "I'd like to ask a favor of you all. I want to secure one of the spots in this year's annual excellence evaluation." The crowd paused for a moment. Then, without needing Zhang Like to prompt them, Liao Lang was the first to speak up: "I will definitely cast my vote for Staff Officer Lu this year!" The others chimed in one after another. "Who else would we vote for if not Staff Officer Lu? Vote for those desk jockeys?" "Staff Officer Lu has worked tirelessly with outstanding merits all these years. He should have received excellence honors long ago." Lu Zhao raised his cup and drained it; even an ordinary swallow drew loud praises about how Staff Officer Lu drank with magnificent gusto. As the banquet continued, people began clapping Lu Zhao on the shoulder, slinging arms over him, calling him brother as though they were lifelong friends. He could feel the distance between himself and these officers shrinking dramatically—far closer than even saving their lives had made them. *I have something to ask of them, which allows us to form a community of shared interest.* Lu Zhao had a sudden revelation. He also realized why he had never been popular before. Perhaps it was not the trouble hanging over his head, nor his temperament, but simply that he had never asked anything of anyone else. "Old Lu." Zhang Like nudged him with an elbow and chuckled helplessly. "It's great that you're taking the initiative to make requests, but tone it down a bit next time. You were way too overbearing just now." "You should say: 'It's high time our company took an excellence award this year; let's all pull together.'" Lu Zhao nodded. "I stand corrected." He sat in the middle of the clamor, his face flushed with the warmth of liquor—and stained, for the first time, with the color of power. Yet his eyes remained clear and sharp. If doing this would allow him to climb higher, Lu Zhao would partake in this table's drinks without the slightest reluctance. Lu Zhao took a sip of liquor, and with a subtle shift of his mind, the harsh alcohol turned sweet. Once intent thoroughly superseded physical perception, Visualization would be considered mastered. Taste was complete. ----- At midnight, the clamor finally faded away. The jeep drove down the quiet road back toward the barracks. Outside the window lay impenetrable darkness, torn open only by the narrow swath of the headlights. Zhang Like gripped the steering wheel, his gaze sober. His constitution as a first-rank superhuman had long since metabolized all the alcohol. In the passenger seat, Lu Zhao rested with his eyes closed. Any trace of drunkenness had vanished from his face, leaving only his customary chill. He suddenly spoke up: "Old Niu told me to look into Lü Jinshan's brother. The guy has always relied on Lü Jinshan to run smuggling operations, almost certainly tied to the smuggling passage in the back mountain." Zhang Like was taken aback, then remarked with a hint of sour envy, "The old man fills you in before anyone else. Really bends his elbow outward, doesn't he? I've heard of Lü Jinshan's brother. We can get people to investigate, but you'd better not get your hopes up." Lu Zhao frowned. "An umbrella protecting him?" Zhang Like neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead, he asked, "Who backs Lü Jinshan?" "Some dog kept by the Chen family." Lu Zhao's answer cut straight to the truth. As a mere station chief of a border defense station, how could Lü Jinshan be connected directly to the Chen family? Lü Jinshan alone could not keep him down either; it had to be someone at the prefecture level, or even an official in the Nanhai Circuit Politics Bureau. "I don't know specifically who it is, but it's likely a big shot in the Nanhai Circuit Politics Bureau. Lü Jinshan is here to rake in money for him, and serve as your Five Finger Mountain while he's at it." Zhang Like gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Between the two of us, one major and one first lieutenant—we're just low-level lackeys on mountain patrol. How could we ever take down the mountain king?" Silence settled over the jeep once more. The furrow in Lu Zhao's brow slowly relaxed, his voice resolute: "Human effort dictates the outcome. We find the evidence first, then talk." Out of the corner of his eye, Zhang Like glimpsed Lu Zhao's calm, resolute profile. Though Lu Zhao had not uttered any grand rallying cries, the sight stirred something in him. He sighed, murmuring with a touch of envy, "Must be nice to be young." ----- Back in his room. Lu Zhao sat cross-legged to practice refining spirit as usual. An hour of refining essence into qi in the morning, Visualization at noon, and refining spirit from night until daybreak. Refining spirit was the most agonizing of them all. Every passing second felt like swallowing needles, and the results were nowhere near as apparent as life-force development—making it the most torturous ordeal. Many people could endure pain, but very few could bear the loneliness. Furthermore, as a psychic superhuman, Lu Zhao's five senses were several times sharper than those of ordinary men, and the pain he felt was amplified several times over as well. Lu Zhao's brows were tightly knitted. Sweat poured from his entire body, and his muscles twitched involuntarily from time to time. Yet he had never feared loneliness or pain; he only feared not being able to see the path ahead. With a bright path before him, all he needed to do was stride forward. In the early morning, sunlight streamed inside. Lu Zhao exhaled a mouthful of turbid qi, feeling completely refreshed throughout his body. The agonizing pain of refining spirit had dissipated. As he circulated his energy once more, he felt only a soothing coolness coursing through his mind. "Does this count as achieving minor success in refining spirit?" ----- June 6. A gentle drizzle pattered down. Liang Fei stepped briskly into the somewhat aged office building of the duty company. Though the surroundings were far less impressive than the station headquarters building, the thought that he had finally assumed a frontline post and was about to securely pocket an achievement from this flood-defense assignment made the corners of his mouth curl upward. Promotion assessments for Federation officers centered primarily on two criteria: first, life-force development; second, military merit. Second-rank superhumans were automatically promoted to field officer rank after serving the required base tenure. If one satisfied the base tenure (four years as a captain), receiving a second-class merit or higher—or multiple third-class merits—could also earn a promotion. Liang Fei was already forty-three years old and had been a captain for eight years. He possessed no talent for life-force development, nor did he want to risk his life for battlefield merit, making the frontline commanding post of the reinforced platoon a golden opportunity for him. Flood defense was a top priority; as long as it was completed smoothly, it reliably yielded a second-class merit every year. To Liang Fei, this assignment seemed remarkably simple: wasn't it just assigning personnel to monitor water levels and water beasts, then reporting promptly to the local authorities? If Lu Zhao could do it, so could he. He walked into the office, his eyes sweeping across the somewhat cramped room. Three people were there: Zhang Zhenghong, Zhang Yanfeng, and Liu Qiang. The former two were of little consequence, but Liu Qiang was Zhang Like's nephew; to carry out his duties, dealing with Zhang Like was inevitable. "Xiao Liu," Liang Fei forced a warm smile onto his face and deliberately softened his tone. Liu Qiang raised his head, expressionless, and merely nodded. "Platoon Leader Liang." Liang Fei put on an air of authority and asked, "How is the preparation for this year's flood season coming along?"