The morning sun spread its light across the scorched ruins of Guangling, bathing the broken stones in a pale gold that could not conceal the devastation. Yet amidst the charred walls and collapsed roofs, imperial banners now fluttered defiantly from hastily repaired towers. Where fire and blood had reigned only weeks before, order and discipline began to assert themselves. Squads of engineers and masons labored without pause, clearing the rubble of the fallen ramparts, raising fresh garrisons in the gutted neighborhoods, and hammering foundations as though the very fate of the Empire rested on their calloused hands.
Inside what had once been the palace, a vast chamber now transformed into a makeshift throne hall, Luo Wen convened his council. The blackened columns still carried the smell of smoke, and plundered tapestries adorned the walls, their silken threads attempting to mask the memory of ruin. Standing over a sprawling map, the Invincible Chancellor—now Emperor—remained silent for a long time, eyes sharp as steel. For him, the decision had already been made: Guangling would not stand as a mere prize of conquest. It would become the beating heart of his reborn Empire.
Finally, his voice broke the heavy air, deep and commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.—My decision is made. The capital of the Empire will be moved here, to Guangling.
A murmur spread among the generals and advisors. Han Qiu, scarred by countless campaigns yet still deferential, was the first to speak.—Your Majesty, to abandon the ancestral capital? Many will see it as sacrilege.
Luo Wen's gaze turned on him like a blade.—The old capital is rotten to its core. There, the remnants of the noble families still cling to their webs of intrigue and ambition. Even upon the throne, I would remain surrounded by shadows whispering betrayal. But here, in Guangling, the nobles are no more. Those who once held sway lie buried beneath these very stones, or fled in disgrace. This city is clean of their poison.
He leaned forward, one finger pressing firmly on the map where Guangling sat like a keystone between north and south.—And this is not a matter of security alone. A new capital proclaims to the world that the Empire has a new master. I am not the custodian of dead traditions—I am the architect of a new age.
Gao Ren, pragmatic and hard-eyed, gave a slow nod.—It is true. Wei Lian is trapped on her islands with nothing but a pitiful force, a remnant that cannot challenge us on land. The nobles are broken, their influence shattered. Guerrillas and bandits may make noise, but they are nothing more than flies without direction. The only true danger once lay in the great families of old, and they no longer have teeth.
—Precisely. —Luo Wen's lips curved into a cold half-smile—. If we linger in the old capital, we grant the nobles ground for their dreams: to conspire, to rebuild their circles of power, to stir unrest. Here in Guangling, there are no such roots left to grow. Only my army, my order, my will.
A heavy silence settled in the chamber. At last, Han Qiu bowed his head with resignation, recognizing the iron logic of his sovereign.—Then Guangling shall be the heart of your Empire.
—So it shall be. —Luo Wen straightened to his full height, his voice ringing like a hammer striking an anvil—. Upon the ruins of what once defied us, I will raise the fortress from which I will dominate the continent. Let the world understand: where resistance once stood, now there is obedience.
He let his gaze sweep across his council, pinning each man in place.—Order the construction of a new palace—greater than any that came before. Raise double walls around this city, and let every gate be guarded by loyal cohorts. Guangling will not merely be my throne. It will be the embodiment of a reborn Empire.
The chamber erupted with oaths of loyalty, their voices echoing against the blackened stone as if to breathe new life into the conquered city. Outside, the relentless rhythm of hammers on stone filled the air, while disciplined soldiers patrolled every street and alley. Guangling, once the symbol of defiance, was already becoming the jewel of the East.
Across the waters, in the western isles, Wei Lian received word of these events with grim resolve. Luo Wen had not only taken Guangling—he had made it his capital. To the common people, and even to many wavering nobles, this was a statement louder than any decree: the Invincible Chancellor's authority was unquestionable, his claim undeniable.
But for Luo Wen, it was only the beginning. From Guangling he would rebuild the Empire, not upon the crumbling foundations of noble privilege, but upon the iron of his legions and the discipline of his command. The transfer of the capital was not merely practical—it was a declaration to all realms that the age of the old bloodlines was finished, and that only one man, Luo Wen, would shape the future.