Chương 28: Chapter 27

The presentation was put together by a joint group from the Hand, the Sages and the Blackflame Foundry. As cordial with each other as dogs and cats, Wu Zetian thought, dripping amusement. It reminded her an awful lot of the different departments from her company when it came to accusing the other of balance sheet losses and claiming profits.

"…the materials are sourced in the Gate Underworld and the Hefeng Mines," was saying Xing Yuefang. Swathed in form-fitting black and crimson, snow-pale skin flashing in dangerous glimpses, Elder Xing's first wife dripped dark sensuality. Her voice was a sinful purr.

"Shadowsteel and spirit stones of the highest quality, as certified by our expert appraisers." She acted as the Sages' representative, who were charged with the mining and sourcing efforts. A short sword, a spearhead and an arrowhead rested on a pillowed casket held by an attendant. The three objects gleamed dully, their shapes seeming to mix with the gloom of the throneroom. Fine, silky patterns covered their surface, reminding one of flowing shadows.

Standard-grade weaponry issued to the common soldiers, they showed well the adaptations the Sect had made to its battle doctrine during its decline. As numbers dwindled and opponents multiplied, the Godless Night had come to prioritize fighting styles that allowed it to conserve soldiers' lives while maximising their killing power from afar. From that, spears and arrows were used to avoid risking the demonic cultivators' penchant for poison and burning Qi while still being able to inflict damage.

The short swords were meant as backup weapons, prioritizing speed and lethality over staying power. What hadn't changed was the Sect's reliance on skilled users. The swirling patterns, typical of the Domain's forging techniques, offset the weapon's own resistance in exchange for a higher Qi permeability. In layman's terms, they broke easier on their own, but channelled Night Qi better, putting more faith in the warrior's own skills than the weapon's quality.

The Shadowsteel they were forged from made them blend among the shadows and provided a partial blurring of their Qi presence when infused with Night Qi. Another change made in favor of quick lethality against an increasingly hostile world, even if this one sank its roots in the Sect's killer styles. Ornamentation was but a byproduct of the forging process. The weapons were starkly utilitarian, as appropriate to the needs of the time. Wu Zetian could appreciate.

She judged that even after mass production settled in, the Blackflame Forge had never fallen beneath Estabilishment Foundation quality for its standard issues. She sat on the Onyx Wing Throne like a statue: eyes closed, back straight and hands folded neatly on her lap. Perfectly still. If she was bothered by it, Xing Yuefang didn't show it. The woman plucked the arrowhead from its resting spot. Under the cold flame of the torches, the whirling patterns etched into the metal seemed to dance.

"These blades were forged with remarkable skill," she purred, luscious lips curved in a sly smile.

"One can clearly see that Master Han's artisans made excellent use of the ore provided to them. It is always gratifying when superior materials survive the forging process with so little degradation."

"You are too kind," croaked the representative of the Blackflame Foundry.

"We merely did our best to remove the impurities that naturally accompany ore drawn from the earth. Fortunately, this batch contained less than usual." Forge Elder Tao Tasho was blackened by his work. Literally. The withered old man looked like a human-shaped, burned-out root. His fingers were grasping claws, and his eyes shone like polished quartz.

Like his superior, he also had his share of replaced flesh: his leg was a bulky stone replica, connected to an apparatus of the same material that enfolded the right side of his body and clung to his back. Thin exhaust pipes protruded from stone carved with minute scripts that seemed to writhe and shift, except that it wasn't smoke that came out of them, but tiny stone-things, carved to resemble bees and with the blurred wings to match. It did little to dim his kindly, patient expression.

Like a grandfather just fresh out of the oven. That type of body modification seemed to be a hallmark of the foundry masters. The reason was… interesting. Blackflame Foundry was a direct creation of Wu Zetian. Jabbed at the center of the Middle Grey Underworld, the forge bore the mark of her immortal arts.

As such, it was all but worshipped by the master smiths, who didn't abandon it even when, overburdened by tens of millennia of restless work, and, more importantly, almost one millennium without proper maintenance from its mistress, had started breaking down, leaking Shen Qi over the workers. They had done their best to keep it working, but only an Immortal could fix what an Immortal had built.

The result was Qi and body mutations, and a penchant for prosthesis work that had gone from being a necessity to being a mark of honor and "closeness" to the works of the divine. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Wu Zetian wanted to sigh. But at least the exposure to her Shen Qi, and experiments best left forgotten, had ended up developing a new Bloodline, one well-attuned to the coldflames they used in their forging processes.

A major asset for the Sect, no doubt, even if it hadn't dulled the sharpness of their tongues.

"Indeed." Xing Yuefang's bow was a study in politeness.

"The miners worked tirelessly to ensure that the smiths would not be overburdened." Tao Tasho replied with one of his own.

"Their consideration is appreciated." The duo smiled politely while trying their best to gaze a hole in their counterpart. Courteous smiles and welcoming bows while throwing daggers at each other. Wu Zetian felt right at home.

"The armor issued to the Sect's soldiers is the result of the Hand's hard-won experience," picked up the representative of the army, while the other two stepped back, throwing glares at each other. Tall, made even more so by the work of art he wore as armor, General Chen Lu radiated martial pride and menace in equal measure. The man, a direct cousin to Chen Liwei herself, was just short of being a column of steel and bronze, with a voice to match. At his gesture, a second attendant opened another casket.

On display, the half-armor issued to the Sect's soldiers resembled an orderly scatter of thinly carved stones. Chen Lu snapped his fingers, and a soldier marched into the hall.

"Supply difficulties and enemy type pushed us toward this design," the General explained, while the young man put on the armor with quick, clean movements.

"It emphasizes speed and explosive power over resistance." The armor was made from a blend of obsidian and black steel, each layered in thin plates and connected by leather straps and cords underneath. Minute scriptures – blessings of warding, camouflage and speed - had been carved inside the plates. Strings of small Spirit Stones provided the power without burdening on the user's own reserves.

Once again, the design was on the utilitarian side: the only ornamentations were strands of spiritbeast hair and acid-etched emblems. The young soldier wore the armor on his right arm, the plates layered one on top of the other in a scale formation that ended in a heavy gauntlet. A small pauldron covered the shoulder, connecting to more plates that were tied around one side of the chest with a series of straps covered with smaller plates. A helmet finished the ensemble.

The warrior who emerged once the process was done was one made for quick, violent fighting, with just enough protection to defend himself but not enough to overburden an already strained supply. Offensive power and speed were prioritized, as well as resistance toward the demonic cultivators' favorite method of damage, those being acid, poison and fire.

"Ancestor, this design has performed admirably in the Siege," the smith chimed in.

"With it, even soldiers with only modest cultivation have survived encounters far above their station."

"The credit belongs to the craftsmen," countered Chen Lu, his steely voice doing little to convey the compliment.

"Though I suspect our soldiers deserve a small share as well. Armor is most effective when the wearer remembers which side faces the enemy." Tao Tasho bowed gratefully.

"Naturally. Our branch has always relied upon the army to test our creations under realistic conditions."

"And we are always delighted to discover which flaws remained undiscovered in the workshop," the general said through gritted teeth. Since he was a military type, fencing through words wasn't to his liking, it seemed.

"Field conditions can be unpredictable," Xing Yuefang chimed in, voice pleasant and not an insinuation to be seen. She waved her hand, and a luxurious fan appeared in her hand. She snapped it open, leaving only her eyes visible.

"We would be delighted to offer our own appraisers to ease your burdens."

"No need, but we thank you for your kindness." And so on. Wu Zetian could have sighed in wistfulness. Everyone smiling, everyone furious, everyone hating everyone. God, she had missed this. And that young man there, sweating bullets. She decided to have mercy on him.

"Impressive. Go on." And off they trotted. This time, she did sigh. Ah, it was just like home… After the equipment, the presentation moved to soldier specialization. Wu Zetian had a general view of the shifts the Sect had done to its military during her secluded cultivation, but she intended to make it perfect. Her previous self had prided herself on her crafting skills: she didn't intend for that trend to end.

The young man demonstrated shadow arts, kicking and whirling while shadows materialized around him, increasing the power and reach of his attacks. When he wrapped himself in darkness and "disappeared", Wu Zetian played along, as though she couldn't say the number of atoms in his shirt. Interestingly, his armor reacted when he shielded himself with umbral power, increasing the efficiency of the technique. After him, a girl walked in. The half-armor she wore was bulkier, covering her vital spots better.

A single spike of obsidian jutted from the top of her helmet. Still, the greatest difference was in the weaponry. The girl wore the short sword at the belt, but her real weapons were twin pieces of obsidian, each sharpened to a deadly point and bearing a blood-red gem at its center. As she took a stance, they floated around her as though having a life of their own. She jabbed forward with two fingers, and one of the rocks obligingly shot forward, before erupting in a buckshot of shrapnel.

She closed her fist and brought it up, and the fragments froze at once. At her gesture, they were dragged back, coalescing between her hands, spinning into a miniature hurricane around a growing energy charge. When she let it go, the projectile was like a small cannon shot. It ripped through the hall's air, twisting and drilling and shrieking. By the time it lost its momentum and fell back, the girl had retaken her stance, and a fine black dust formed a perfect circle around her.

Wu Zetian clapped, honestly impressed. The Stonemancers' skills weren't to be underestimated. If the Shadow Warriors used pure Night Qi to increase the power of their blows, the Stonemancers used Night Qi-infused obsidian mined on the Plateau. It wasn't for all: the Stone Bloodline was common enough, but nowhere omnipresent. The girl grinned, brilliantly flushed. She bowed deep, before hopping off.

"That'll be all for now," Wu Zetian said. She gestured, flicking her sleeve.

"Leave me." The trio bowed deeply and shuffled out. Wu Zetian enjoyed a few moments of silence before, right on cue, hearing new steps. The reports for her new policies were there, finally.