The data from the Silver Spire was not a book; it was an ocean. Jiang Chen sat in the central interface chair of the Command Bunker, the thick cable from his chest reactor pulsing with a frantic rhythm as it uploaded the contents of the ancient hard drives into the city's mainframe.
On the main screen, lines of code cascaded faster than the human eye could follow. Blueprints flashed by—fusion cells, genetic sequencing, orbital mechanics. But Jiang Chen stopped the scroll on a file labeled "Project: Hephaestus."
It was a schematic for a factory. But unlike the ones currently smoking in Sector 01, this factory had no walkways for humans. It had no bathrooms. It had no lights. It was a hive designed for machines to build machines.
"System," Jiang Chen's synthesized voice echoed in the silent room. "Analysis."
[Blueprint: Automated Fabrication Matrix.][Output: Mass Production of Class-1 Droids.][Efficiency: 4,000% increase over human labor.]
Jiang Chen looked at his own mechanical hand. He thought about the exhausted workers in the steel mills, the men who burned their hands on hot rivets, the women who breathed coal dust for twelve hours a day to build his tanks.
"They have suffered enough," Jiang Chen whispered. "Old Wu. Clear Sector 10. We are building the Matrix."
Three weeks later, the morning whistle blew in Sector 10, but no workers walked through the gates.
Worker Zhao, a riveter who had helped build the Kunpeng, stood at the chain-link fence with thousands of others. They watched with a mix of awe and terrifying uncertainty. The new factory was a black monolith, humming with a sound that felt like bees buzzing inside their skulls.
The bay doors hissed open.
They didn't see men carrying boxes. They saw a phalanx of silver.
Hundreds of bipedal machines marched out. They were skeletal, efficient, and terrifyingly uniform. Their hydraulic limbs moved in perfect synchronization. They carried heavy steel beams as if they were twigs.
[Unit: STC-1 "Labor Jack".]
The droids marched past the crowd of humans. They didn't look at them. They didn't blink. They simply walked to the construction site of the new wall and began to weld. They worked at a speed that blurred the eye. No breaks. No chatter. Just the relentless symphony of production.
"They... they don't stop," Zhao whispered, clutching his lunchbox. "Look at them. One of them does the work of ten of us."
"So what happens to us?" a woman asked, her voice trembling. "If the Iron Prince has metal men... does he need flesh men?"
The murmur rippled through the crowd. It wasn't anger yet; it was the cold, sinking dread of obsolescence. For a year, these people had found dignity in their work. They were the builders of the New Era. Now, they were watching their purpose march past them in chrome plating.
"He's going to cast us out," an older man spat. "We are just mouths to feed now. He used us to build the machines, and now the machines are taking our jobs."
The fear was contagious. It spread from the factory gates to the markets, and from the markets to the teahouses. The loyalty that Jiang Chen had bought with bread and safety was cracking under the weight of efficiency.
Ye Bai stood on the balcony of the Administrator's Mansion, watching the gathering crowds in the square below. They weren't cheering today. They were silent, sullen, holding signs that read: Use Hands, Not Gears.
"You have a problem, Administrator," Ye Bai said, turning to the cyborg sitting in the dark office. "You conquered the armies of the world, but you are losing the hearts of your people. They feel discarded."
Jiang Chen spun his chair around. The green glow of his reactor was the only light in the room.
"I built the droids to save them from breaking their backs," Jiang Chen said, his voice flat. "Why do they want to shovel coal? Why do they want to inhale soot?"
"Because labor is honor," Ye Bai replied, his hand on his sword. "Without work, a mortal feels useless. You gave them purpose, and now you are automating it away. To them, you are not a Savior anymore. You are a Replacement."
Jiang Chen stood up. The servos in his legs whined.
"They think I want to replace them?" Jiang Chen walked to the window. He looked at the faces of the people he had sworn to protect. He saw the fear in their eyes—the fear of a parent who can no longer provide.
"I made a calculation error," Jiang Chen admitted. "I factored in calorie efficiency, but I forgot the psychological variable."
He grabbed his coat.
"Ye Bai. Assemble the Ronin Guard. And bring the STC-2 Prototype."
"You are going to suppress the riot?"
"No," Jiang Chen opened the door. "I'm going to give them a promotion."
The City Square was packed. Ten thousand workers stood facing a line of the new Labor Jack droids that stood motionless, guarding the factory entrance. The tension was thick enough to cut.
"We want work!" Worker Zhao shouted, throwing a bolt at a droid. It bounced off the metal chest harmlessly. "We are citizens! Not pets!"
The heavy blast doors of the Mansion opened.
Jiang Chen walked out. He was flanked not by guards, but by a single, floating drone carrying a holographic projector.
The crowd quieted, but the hostility remained.
"Citizens of Beiluo!" Jiang Chen's amplified voice boomed. "I hear your anger. You fear the machines. You think I built them to starve you."
He walked down the steps, right into the crowd. The workers parted, terrified of his cyborg form but drawn by his presence.
"Look at your hands," Jiang Chen commanded.
Zhao looked at his hands. They were calloused, scarred, and permanently stained with oil.
"For thousands of years, mortals have been the beasts of burden," Jiang Chen said, pointing to the droids. "You pulled the plows. You carried the stones. You broke your bodies so the Cultivators could live in luxury."
He stopped in front of Zhao.
"I did not build these machines to replace you," Jiang Chen said softly. "I built them to serve you."
He signaled the drone. A holographic image appeared in the air. It showed a new schematic. Not a factory floor, but a control room. Mortals sat in comfortable chairs, wearing clean uniforms, manipulating joysticks and screens that controlled the droids outside.
"The Age of Labor is over," Jiang Chen declared. "The Age of Command begins."
He gestured to the factory behind him.
"I am establishing the Polytechnic University. Starting today, every citizen of Beiluo will be enrolled. You will not rivet steel anymore. You will learn to code. You will learn engineering. You will learn to fix the droids when they break."
Jiang Chen turned to the line of silent droids.
"Kneel," he ordered.
Five hundred machines dropped to one knee in perfect unison, bowing their heads to the crowd of dirty, confused workers.
"These are your tools," Jiang Chen said. "You are not the hammer anymore. You are the blacksmith."
A silence stretched across the square. Zhao looked at the droid kneeling before him. He realized he wasn't being fired. He was being elevated.
"We... we get to boss them around?" Zhao asked, his voice cracking.
"You are the Overseers," Jiang Chen confirmed. "The Iron City needs minds, not muscle. Can you handle the upgrade?"
Zhao looked at his fellow workers. The fear evaporated, replaced by a sudden, dizzying sense of importance. They weren't trash. They were the masters of the metal legion.
"Yes... Yes, Administrator!" Zhao shouted.
The crowd erupted. It wasn't the relief of safety this time; it was the roar of ambition.
While the city celebrated its new status, a lone figure watched from the shadows of an alleyway.
He wore the robes of a merchant, but his eyes were too sharp. He was a Spy from the Myriad Swords Sect, one of the Great Sects that had stayed neutral during the war.
He watched the droids kneeling. He watched the mortals cheering.
His hands trembled as he wrote a message on a jade slip.
"Report to Sect Leader. The rumors were wrong. He is not building an army of slaves. He is building an army of Kings. The mortals here... they control constructs that rival Foundation Establishment disciples. If this spreads... if the peasants learn they can command iron instead of bowing to Qi..."
He swallowed hard, sealing the message.
"The Foundation of the Cultivation World will collapse. We must intervene. Not with war. But with assassination."
The spy vanished into the crowd, slipping away toward the gates.
Back in the command center, Jiang Chen watched the spy leave on a monitor.
"Let him go," Jiang Chen told Ye Bai. "Let him tell the world what is coming."
"You are provoking the Great Sects," Ye Bai warned. "They tolerated your guns. They won't tolerate you overturning the social order."
"Good," Jiang Chen sat in his chair, the interface cables snaking back into his chest. "I need them to attack."
He pulled up a new file from the Ancient Database.
[Project: Sky-Net.][Status: Offline. Repair Drones Dispatched.]
"Because I need a live-fire test for the Satellite Defense Grid," Jiang Chen smiled coldly. "And I'd hate to waste it on rocks."