The north changed overnight. After Aetheron's fall, skies shimmered gold—heavenly qi raining like soft dawn. Mountains hummed ancient songs. The Heavenly Mandate settled: my domain is no longer mortal land but a celestially recognised realm. Stars aligned approvingly. Foreign sects bowed deeper, calling it "Sovereign's Grace".
Celestial allies arrived unbidden. First, a winged envoy from Star Palace—an ethereal woman with comet trails for hair. "Heavens recognise your unity," she said, kneeling in the plaza. "We offer arrays against void threats." Then came Cloud Sovereign's herald, bearing pacts: "Your mortals command gods. Teach us loyalty's forge."
I accepted alliances simply. "Trade knowledge. Guard each other." Academies swelled with heavenly pupils—star-qi lessons beside farmer drills. North drew not conquest, but wonder.
But ancient rivals stirred. Whispers from old empires: The upstart realm rises too fast. Crush it before stars crown it eternal.
The Night of Silent Hands fell quiet as death.
Deep in southern noble lands—a Li family house, House Duan, plotted rebellion. Gold from rival princes filled coffers. Spies marked my trade roads for sabotage. Patriarch Duan sneered over maps: "Taxless fool. We'll choke his wealth and burn his academies. "The Empire rises again."
Midnight struck. Shadows slipped through walls—no doors creaking, no guards stirring. Seven thousand Silent Hands moved: veiled women ghosts in moonlight. Daggers whispered from sleeves. The patriarch woke choking; the family vanished mid-sleep.
No screams. No blood trails. By sunrise, House Duan was empty—the manor pristine, breakfast steaming cold. Servants blinked, confused: "They... left?"
Moon Shadows left no trace. No executions. No announcements. Whispers spread: the family displeased the Sovereign. Gone like mist.
Peace returned before noon. Trade wagons rolled unbroken. Rival princes paled, plots crumbling silent.
General Meiyin reported faintly, "Puppeteers silenced. No ripples."
Merchants realised the truth next. No taxes meant no chains. Full protection—Hellfire escorts free roads, Moon Shadows scout ahead, and Silver Drake flies above. Safety is absolute.
The shadow escort trade exploded. Caravans tripled: Wu silks heavy, Huang jade mountains, Freeport spices oceans. "Pay nothing," a captain laughed, "but arrive richer!" Inns boomed—Vulcan ale flowing, academy lanterns glowing. North grew rich without extortion. Gold piled naturally, from pure service.
Wen Zixing tallied vaults, grinning. "Revenue eclipses old empires. Loyalty fuels it—no whips needed."
Lin Dao mapped endlessly: "Celestial allies bring star-ore. Trade webs span continents."
Mo Han trained mixed legions—mortals leading demons now. "They fight one mind," he boasted.
Yue Zhilan walked the trade fairs with me, looking very casual. "Rivals stir, but shadows end them quietly."
Vulcan hammered endlessly: "My steel arms the world!"
Refugees—no, citizens—built higher: sky-towers linking cities, spirit rails humming qi-freight.
Foreign kings sent sons learning: "Teach us taxless wealth!"
I welcomed them openly. "Loyalty first. Rest follows."
The system chimed golden.
"Ding! Heavenly Realm Achieved. Silent Hands Perfection. Trade Empire Born. Rewards: Celestial Trade Nexus, Rival Faction Neutralised. Loyalty: Eternal."
That eve, atop Mandate Tower, stars wheeled approvingly. Celestial allies' lights dotted horizons—pacts sealed. House Duan's empty manor haunted whispers south. Trade boomed, unchained.
Ancient rivals stirred maps frantically. But shadows watched closer.
North ascended—not by blood, but bonds. Heavenly recognised, rich beyond greed.
Rivals plotted. Silent Hands listened.
Peace held—not fragile, but forged unseen.
The golden age bloomed eternal. Chains broken forever.