Lord Yong leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of red wine as he gazed out over the sprawling fields of his province. It was hard to believe that just three years ago, these lands had been little more than an overlooked corner of the empire—a place where poverty clung like ivy to crumbling stone walls. But now?
Now, they were thriving.
His wife, Lady Zhen, entered the room quietly, her silk robes whispering against the polished wooden floor. She carried herself with a grace she hadn't possessed before—not the stiff, rehearsed elegance of courtiers, but something deeper, born from confidence and purpose.
"Still brooding?" she teased gently, setting down a tray of tea beside him.
"You've been staring at those fields all morning."
Yong chuckled, setting the glass aside. "Not brooding. Reflecting. Do you remember what this place looked like when we first inherited it?"
Zhen sighed, joining him by the window. "How could I forget? We barely had enough coin to feed our own household, let alone repair the roads or tend to the crops. The villagers… they barely spoke to us. They thought we'd abandon them too, like so many others had."
"And then he came" Yong said, his tone shifting slightly—half admiration, half exasperation.
"Atlas Ryland. That infuriatingly clever merchant who walked into our hall one day, dressed like he owned the world, and told us exactly how much potential we were wasting."
Zhen smiled faintly. "He didn't mince words, did he? 'Your spices are rotting in the fields while your people starve' he said. As if we didn't already know."
"But he offered a solution" Yong reminded her. "A deal. He would invest in building roads, improving irrigation, and setting up trade routes—but only if we agreed to work with him exclusively for ten years. At the time, it felt like madness. Who would trust a foreign merchant with such power?"
Zhen reached for her teacup, her fingers brushing against the delicate porcelain. "And yet, here we are. Our people have food on their tables, our coffers are full, and even the Emperor's enforcers couldn't sway them when they came knocking."
It had happened two weeks ago—a group of imperial envoys had arrived unannounced, demanding an audience. They claimed Ryl Trading was a threat to the stability of the empire, that his growing influence undermined the Emperor's authority. They urged Yong and Zhen to sever ties immediately, promising rewards for compliance.
But the response had been… unexpected.
When word spread among the villagers, they gathered outside the estate, chanting slogans of loyalty to Atlas. Farmers, merchants, even children held up signs praising Ryl Trading. One elderly woman had marched right up to the envoys and shouted
"If you take away Atlas, you take away our future!"
Zhen had watched from the balcony, stunned by the sheer force of their people's gratitude. In that moment, they knew—they couldn't betray Atlas, no matter the pressure.
That evening, Yong found himself standing in the grand hall of Lord Rein's estate, surrounded by nobles sipping champagne and exchanging polite gossip. The air was thick with perfumed oils and thinly veiled ambition. He adjusted his cuffs nervously, feeling out of place among these older, more established families. But tonight, he wasn't here to blend in—he was here to speak.
Rein approached him, his usual smug grin replaced by a rare look of concern. "Yong" he greeted, lowering his voice.
"I heard about the envoys. Are you holding steady?"
Yong nodded firmly. "We are. My people won't hear of betrayal. What about you?"
Rein hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "The pressure is mounting. Some of the others consider folding—cutting ties quietly, hoping the Emperor won't notice. But…"
He trailed off, his expression darkening. "They don't understand what Atlas has done for us. For all of us."
Yong placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Then remind them. Remind them that before Atlas, our provinces were dying. Our people were starving. He didn't just bring wealth—he brought hope. And if the Emperor thinks we'll turn our backs on that, he underestimates us."
Rein let out a slow breath, nodding.
"You're right. Still, it's dangerous to defy him openly. Have you spoken to the others?"
"I will" Yong promised. "Starting tonight. If we stand together, the Emperor can't crush us all."
As the night wore on, Yong moved through the crowd, subtly rallying support. He shared stories of Atlas's investments—the roads that connected isolated villages, the schools he funded, the jobs he created. By the end of the evening, whispers of resistance began to ripple through the room.
One noble, emboldened by the conversation, raised his glass in a quiet toast.
"To survival" he murmured. "And to those who refuse to kneel."
Yong joined him, his resolve stronger than ever. Whatever storms lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain: Atlas Ryland had changed their lives forever—and they wouldn't forget it.
Deep within the opulent halls of the imperial palace, Emperor Jinhai sat at the head of a long, polished table. The room was silent except for the faint crackle of incense burning in golden braziers. Before him lay stacks of reports—each detailing the stubborn loyalty of yet another noble family to Ryl Trading. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne-like chair, his jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed as though the bone might shatter under the strain.
"Impossible" he muttered under his breath, flipping through the documents with growing fury.
"How could they all refuse? Every single one…"
His voice trailed off as he reached the final report. It wasn't just refusal—it was outright rebellion. Entire villages had turned out to defend Atlas Ryland, their chants echoing through the countryside like a declaration of war. Farmers, merchants, even children carried banners bearing the insignia of Ryl Trading. They weren't merely resisting; they were celebrating him.
Jinhai's grip tightened around the glass of wine in his hand. With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled it against the wall. The crystal shattered into a thousand glittering shards, scattering across the floor like fallen stars.
"Atlas Ryland" he spat, rising from his seat. His robes billowed behind him as he paced the length of the chamber, his footsteps sharp and deliberate.
A foreign merchant. A bloody nobody. And yet…
He stopped abruptly, slamming his fist onto the table.
…he has done what I could not. He has united them.
For years, Jinhai had worked tirelessly to consolidate power, to bring every province under his iron grip. Yet here was a man—a mere trader —who had accomplished in a short amount of time compared to what decades of imperial edicts and military campaigns had failed to achieve:
Unity. Loyalty. Purpose.
And worse still, there was no trace of infiltration within Ryl Trading's operations. Not a single spy had managed to breach their ranks. No bribes had swayed their workers. No threats had shaken their resolve. It was as if Atlas had anticipated every move, staying one step ahead at every turn.
Jinhai exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down.
Rage would solve nothing. What I need now is strategy. Precision. Ruthlessness.
He strode over to the massive tactical board mounted on the far wall—a sprawling map of the empire, dotted with markers indicating troop movements, trade routes, and key locations. Grabbing a piece of chalk, he began scribbling furiously, his mind racing through possibilities.
Plan One: Destroy Ryl Trading
First, he outlined his initial plan—the complete annihilation of Ryl Trading. To dismantle the organization entirely would require a coordinated assault on multiple fronts. He listed the steps:
Cut Off Supply Lines : Target warehouses, caravans, and shipping routes. Disrupt their ability to operate by seizing control of critical infrastructure.
Seize Key Outposts : Identify and capture major hubs of activity—ports, markets, and trading posts. Use these as leverage to force Atlas's hand.
Eliminate Leadership : Send elite assassins after Atlas and his closest advisors. Without its figurehead, Ryl Trading would crumble.
Spread Propaganda : Paint Atlas as a traitor, a foreign invader seeking to undermine the empire. Turn public opinion against him.
But even as he wrote, doubts crept in. Ryl Trading wasn't confined to a single location—it was everywhere. Its influence stretched across provinces, weaving itself into the fabric of daily life. Cutting off supply lines would devastate local economies, alienating the very people Jinhai sought to control.
And assassinating Atlas? That felt too simple. Too easy. The man had survived this long for a reason. But he will still put a plan on it just in case his luck ran out.
Plan Two: Capture Atlas
If destruction proved too costly or impractical, then capturing Atlas became the next logical option. Jinhai turned back to the board, erasing part of his previous notes and replacing them with a new set of instructions:
Locate His Base of Operations: Intelligence suggested Atlas spent considerable time at the Silver Lotus Sect. If true, this would serve as both a stronghold and a weakness.
Deploy Elite Forces: Send Qi warriors and specialized units trained in covert operations. Speed and secrecy would be paramount.
Use Psychological Warfare: Exploit any vulnerabilities—personal connections, past traumas, lingering fears—to weaken his resolve. Perhaps even use hostages if necessary.
Negotiate Public Surrender: Force Atlas to publicly renounce his ties to the nobility and dissolve Ryl Trading. Humiliate him before the empire to send a clear message about who held ultimate power.
This plan felt more promising, but it came with risks. The Silver Lotus Sect was nestled deep within treacherous terrain, surrounded by mountains and dense forests. Even an army equipped with Qi warriors would struggle to navigate such harsh conditions without suffering significant losses. Moreover, attacking a martial sect risked drawing retaliation—not just from Atlas, but potentially from other powerful factions that aligned with him.
Jinhai stepped back, surveying the board. Both plans had merit, but neither guaranteed success. Each carried consequences that could destabilize the empire further. For a moment, frustration threatened to overwhelm him again.
How could one man pose such a threat?