The tea house in the Grand Xia Capital was usually a place of quiet reverence, where mortals whispered and cultivators boasted. Today, it was a riot.
Disciple Li, a Foundation Establishment cultivator of the Azure Ox Sect, slapped a high-grade Spirit Stone onto the wooden counter. The stone glowed with a soft, azure light, containing enough Qi to power a basic formation for a month.
"I said," Li growled, his aura flaring enough to rattle the cups, "I want the finest room, a pot of Spirit Tea, and a roast duck. Now."
The shopkeeper, a mortal man with a greying beard, didn't flinch. He didn't bow. He looked at the glowing stone with the same expression one would use for a handful of gravel.
"I'm sorry, Immortal Master," the shopkeeper said, pushing the stone back. "We don't accept stones anymore. The exchange rate crashed this morning. That stone won't even buy the hot water, let alone the duck."
Li's eyes bulged. "Crashed? This is spiritual essence! It is the blood of the world!"
"It's fuel for your spells, Master," the shopkeeper shrugged, pulling out a small, sleek black device from under the counter. "But I can't eat spells. I need heat. I need electricity. I need Beiluo Credits."
He pointed to a digital screen hanging on the wall. It displayed the current market prices.
[Gold: -40%][Spirit Stones: -85%][Kilowatt-Hour (Credit): +200%]
"The Iron Prince is selling winter coats, self-heating meals, and electric lamps," the shopkeeper explained. "And he only takes Credits. If I take your stone, I can't restock my inventory. So, unless you have a Blue Card..."
Li stared at the mortals around him. They weren't using gold. They were tapping blue plastic cards against the merchant's device. Beep. Transaction Complete.
For the first time in his life, the Foundation Establishment cultivator felt poor. He had infinite power to kill, but zero power to buy.
Five hundred miles north, in the humming nerve center of Beiluo, Jiang Chen watched the economic graphs turn green.
"It is working," Ye Bai said, standing before the main screen. The Sword Saint looked disturbed. "You aren't conquering the Empire with tanks. You are buying it."
"War destroys infrastructure," Jiang Chen said, leaning back in his chair. The reactor in his chest pulsed rhythmically. "Trade captures it. The Spirit Stone economy was a bubble, Ye Bai. It relied on the scarcity of Qi. But I introduced a currency based on Energy—something I can mass-produce."
He gestured to the map of the Empire.
"The Qi Condensation disciples are starving because they can't buy food. The Golden Core Elders are hoarding stones because their value is plummeting. The mortals, who make up 99% of the population, have switched to my currency because it actually improves their lives. I have effectively demonetized the Cultivation World."
Ye Bai touched the hilt of his sword. "You are making the Emperor irrelevant in his own lands. A Spirit Severing expert does not care about hunger, but he cares about control. He will not watch his Dragon Luck turn into digital numbers."
"I know," Jiang Chen's green eye narrowed. "He's been quiet. Too quiet. A tiger doesn't sleep when its territory is shrinking. It waits for the hunter to get close."
Deep within the Imperial Palace, the silence was absolute. The servants walked on soft shoes, terrified to make a sound. The air itself felt heavy, thick with a pressure that made breathing difficult.
This was the aura of a Spirit Severing Peak powerhouse.
Emperor Xia sat on the Dragon Throne. He did not look like the anxious rulers of mortal kingdoms. He looked like a statue carved from eternity. His skin was flawless, glowing with a faint, iridescent luster. Around him, the space distorted slightly, as if reality struggled to contain his presence.
Below him, the Minister of Finance knelt, shivering violently.
"Your Majesty... the tax reports... the provinces are sending... paper."
"Paper?" The Emperor's voice did not travel through the air. It manifested directly inside the Minister's mind, a resonant bell of authority.
"Receipts, Your Majesty. They say they have converted the tax revenue into 'Credits' for safekeeping in the Beiluo Bank. The Treasury... has no physical gold flowing in."
The Emperor opened his eyes.
They were not human eyes. They contained swirling galaxies of golden light. He was at the peak of this world's power. One step further, and he would ascend to the Void. He could sever a mountain range with a thought. He could live for five thousand years.
But he could feel it. The Dragon Luck—the mystical energy derived from the faith and submission of his subjects—was bleeding away. It was flowing North, toward the Iron City.
"He treats the Empire like a grocery store," the Emperor whispered. "He thinks he can purchase the Mandate of Heaven."
The Emperor stood up.
The entire palace shook. The tiles on the roof rattled. A beam of golden light erupted from his body, piercing the roof and shooting into the sky.
"The mortals have forgotten," the Emperor declared, stepping off the dais. He didn't walk on the floor; he walked on the air. "They have forgotten that cheap bread does not stop a calamity. They have forgotten why they worship us."
"Your Majesty?" The Minister gasped, pressed flat to the floor by the sheer gravity of the Emperor's aura. "What will you do?"
"I will remind them," the Emperor said, floating toward the balcony. "That value is not determined by the market. It is determined by Strength."
The alarm sirens in Beiluo screamed.
[Energy Signature Detected. Class: Planetary Threat.]
Jiang Chen spun around. "Where? The Envoys?"
"No!" Old Wu shouted, his hands flying across the console. "It's the Capital! A massive energy spike! It's off the charts! It's... it's atmospheric!"
On the main screen, the satellite feed showed the Imperial Capital. But the city was disappearing.
A golden sun was rising from the palace. It wasn't a nuclear explosion. It was the Emperor.
He floated five thousand feet in the air, his Spirit Severing Domain expanding outward. The sky over the Capital turned gold. The clouds turned into dragons. The temperature rose, not to burning, but to a comfortable, eternal spring.
His voice boomed across the entire continent, powered by the sheer density of his cultivation.
"My subjects."
In the tea house, the shopkeeper dropped the black credit scanner. He fell to his knees. The instinct to bow was overwhelming. It was genetic.
"You chase the toys of the North. You trade your honor for warmth. You believe the Iron Prince can protect you."
The Emperor raised a hand.
Thousands of miles away, a mountain range near the border of the Empire rumbled.
"Mountain Move."
The Emperor didn't cast a spell. He commanded reality.
The mountain range lifted into the air. Millions of tons of rock floated, defying gravity, defying physics. It was a display of power so absolute, so divine, that it made the tanks and droids look like children's toys.
"Can his coins move the earth?" The Emperor asked, his voice gentle yet terrifying. "Can his machines tell the winter to cease? I am the Sky. I am the Land. Return to the Dao, or lose my protection."
He dropped the mountain range back down—gently. It didn't crash. It settled with a soft thud, reshaping the horizon.
In the Capital, the mortals were weeping. They threw away the blue cards. They pulled out their hidden Spirit Stones and gold, offering them to the sky. The display of Spirit Severing power had shattered their newfound confidence. Physics was impressive, but this was Magic.
In the Command Bunker, the silence was heavy.
Ye Bai looked at the screen. He was shaking. "That... is the Peak. He moved the Dragon Tooth Mountains. He didn't use a lever. He used Will."
Jiang Chen stared at the screen. The economic graphs were flickering. The "Faith" in the Credit was dropping as fear of the God-Emperor returned.
"He's playing the God card," Jiang Chen muttered. "He's showing them that he is a force of nature."
"And he is right," Ye Bai said grimly. "We have cannons, Administrator. But we cannot levitate a mountain range without industrial equipment. In the eyes of the common man, he is divinity."
Jiang Chen's chest reactor hummed louder. He wasn't afraid. He was calculating.
"He wants a contest of miracles?" Jiang Chen stood up. "He moved a mountain. Impressive. But it's just telekinesis on a macro scale."
He turned to Old Wu.
"Wu. Is the Weather Control Satellite online?"
"The 'Zeus' Array? Yes, Sir. But it's experimental. We use it for farming rain."
"Not anymore," Jiang Chen's eyes were cold. "The Emperor claims he is the Sky. He claims he controls the winter."
Jiang Chen typed a command into the interface.
[Target: Imperial Capital.][Payload: Silver Iodide + Cryogenic Aerosol.][Density: 100%.]
"Let's see if his Spirit Severing Domain is waterproof," Jiang Chen sneered. "He promised them eternal spring? I'm giving them a blizzard."
"You... you are going to snow on the Emperor?" Ye Bai asked, eyes wide.
"I'm going to show them that nature is just variables," Jiang Chen slammed the execute button. "And I have the admin password."
High above the golden domain of the Emperor, the satellites shifted. They didn't fire lasers. They fired canisters.
Clouds—dark, heavy, unnatural clouds—began to form directly above the golden light of the Capital. The Emperor looked up, his brow furrowing. He exerted his will to disperse them.
"Begone."
The clouds wavered, but the chemical reaction was self-sustaining. The Cryogenic agents sucked the heat out of the air faster than his Qi could replenish it without burning his foundation.
Snow began to fall.
It fell through the golden light. It landed on the Emperor's shoulder. It didn't melt.
The mortals in the street looked up. The "Eternal Spring" was freezing.
Jiang Chen picked up the microphone, broadcasting on every radio frequency in the Empire.
"The Emperor moves mountains," Jiang Chen's synthesized voice cut through the divine aura. "But he cannot keep you dry. Go home. Turn on your heaters. The forecast calls for science."