[LOCATION: THE OLD TRADE ROAD — SECTOR 9 BORDER]

[TIME: 04:00 AM]

The scream was cut short by the sound of breaking bone.

“Payment rejected,” a bandit grunted. He wiped his blade on the smuggler’s jacket.

Behind him, a convoy of three hover-trucks idled. The drivers were terrified.

The Iron-Blood Gang had set up a blockade on the only paved road leading out of Sector 9.

“Listen up!” the bandit shouted, kicking the corpse off the road. “Warlord Kui has raised the transit tax. 1,000 Spirit Silver per truck. You want to move goods through Sector 9? You pay the toll. Or you end up like him.”

The lead driver leaned out, sweating. “1,000? The margin on Soul-Glass is only 1,200! We can’t make a profit!”

“Not my problem,” the bandit said. “Pay. Turn around. Or die.”

The drivers looked at the desolate landscape around them.

To the left: The Iron-Blood blockade.

To the right: The Dead Zone. A wasteland of jagged rocks and toxic green smog where Spirit Beasts hunted. No truck could survive that terrain.

They had no choice.

Defeated, the driver handed over a heavy bag of coins.

The bandit weighed it. Grinned. “Pleasure doing business.”

[LOCATION: NETHER-CORE TOWER — ROOF]

[TIME: 04:15 AM]

Ren Wu watched the blockade from two miles away.

The wind on the roof was cold, carrying the metallic scent of the industrial district.

“They’re squeezing the supply chain,” Ren said.

Han stood next to him, holding a datapad. “It’s a choke point, sir. That road is the only stable path to the highway. Warlord Kui controls the flow of goods. That’s how he pays his army.”

Ren looked down at the “Dead Zone” directly adjacent to his Tower.

It was a mess. Craters. Piles of industrial scrap. Thick, swirling miasma that rotted tires and lungs.

“Han. What is the distance between our Tower and the main highway?”

“Through the Dead Zone? About 800 meters. But it’s impassable, sir. The smog density is lethal.”

“The smog is only lethal because the Feng Shui is stagnant,” Ren corrected.

He walked to the edge of the roof. He looked down at his new acquisitions: The Central Warehouse and the Tower. They sat in a perfect straight line, pointing directly at the highway.

“A monopoly relies on a lack of alternatives,” Ren said. “If the market doesn’t offer a better road… we build one.”

Ren raised his hand.

He didn’t cast a spell. He authorized a construction project.

[DECREE: EARTH REFORMATION]

[AUTHORITY: PENDING…]

Ren frowned. “Too expensive to do it with Authority alone.”

He keyed his radio. “Security. You have a new task.”

[LOCATION: THE DEAD ZONE]

The ground shook.

Two massive shapes stepped out of the Nether-Core Tower.

The Spirit-Iron Golems.

Usually, they were statues. Tonight, they were bulldozers.

They marched into the toxic smog. The gas hissed against their metal skin, useless.

They reached the field of jagged boulders blocking the path.

CRUNCH.

The first Golem grabbed a boulder the size of a car. It didn’t just lift it; it crushed it into gravel with a single squeeze of its hands.

The second Golem leveled the ground. It stomped, driving the gravel into the mud, compacting it into a flat surface.

Ren walked behind them.

He held the Black Ledger.

Every ten meters, he stopped. He placed a paper talisman on the ground.

[FENG SHUI NODE: INSTALLED]

WHOOSH.

The talismans flared. A golden barrier expanded, pushing the green smog back.

It was like parting the Red Sea.

A tunnel of clean, fresh air carved its way through the poison.

“Keep moving,” Ren ordered. “I want this road paved by sunrise.”

The Golems worked with tireless, mechanical perfection.

Smash. Stomp. Pave.

Smash. Stomp. Pave.

By 6:00 AM, the impossible existed.

A pristine, flat, smog-free road cutting straight through the Dead Zone.

It bypassed the Iron-Blood blockade entirely.

Ren stood at the entrance. He hammered a wooden sign into the ground.

[NETHER-CORE TRANSIT AUTHORITY]

[TOLL: 500 SILVER]

[MONSTERS: 0]

[BANDITS: 0]

[LOCATION: THE CROSSROADS]

[TIME: 07:00 AM]

The smuggler convoy was returning for a second run.

The lead driver looked miserable. He was about to drive into the Iron-Blood blockade again. He prepared his wallet.

Then he saw it.

A new road.

It hadn’t been there yesterday.

It cut straight through the smog, glowing with a faint, golden safety light.

Standing at the entrance was a man in a charcoal suit, drinking tea.

The driver slowed his hover-truck. He rolled down the window.

“Hey! What is this? You can’t drive through the Dead Zone!”

“You can now,” Ren said. He pointed to the sign. “Private toll road. Direct access to the highway. Bypass the gangs. Save twenty minutes.”

The driver squinted. “Is it safe?”

Ren gestured behind him.

One of the Spirit-Iron Golems was standing guard, holding the severed head of a Spirit Beast that had tried to cross the barrier.

“I guarantee the safety of your cargo,” Ren said. “If you lose a single crate on my road, I reimburse you double.”

The driver looked at the Iron-Blood blockade in the distance. They charged 1,000. They were rude. They were dangerous.

He looked at Ren. 500. Clean road. scary-but-efficient security.

It wasn’t a hard choice. It was math.

“500?” the driver asked.

“Flat rate,” Ren said. “First trip includes a complimentary coffee.”

The driver laughed. He tossed a bag of coins to Ren.

“Deal.”

The truck revved its engine and turned onto the new road.

It glided smoothly over the compacted gravel. No bumps. No smog. No bandits.

The second truck followed.

Then the third.

[LOCATION: NETHER-CORE TOWER — LOBBY]

[TIME: 12:00 PM]

Han was vibrating with excitement.

“Sir! The numbers! Look at the numbers!”

He shoved the tablet in Ren’s face.

[TRANSIT REPORT]

[VEHICLES PROCESSED: 45]

[REVENUE: 22,500 SPIRIT SILVER]

[CUSTOMER SATISFACTION: 98%]

“The smugglers are radioing each other,” Han said. “They’re calling it ‘The Gold Run.’ The Iron-Blood blockade is empty. No one is going that way anymore.”

Ren nodded. He was reviewing a different document. “We disrupted their cash flow. Warlord Kui won’t be able to pay his troops by Friday.”

“He’s going to be mad,” Han said, smile fading.

“He’s going to be desperate,” Ren corrected. “Desperate men make mistakes. Strategic men make acquisitions.”

Ren stood up.

“We have capital now, Han. 22,000 Silver. It’s time to fix the staffing issue.”

“Staffing? You mean more Golems?”

“No,” Ren said. “Golems scare the customers. We need a human face. Someone to sit at the front desk and smile so people forget they are doing business with a Warlord.”

Ren pointed to a resume on his desk. It was wrinkled, handwritten, and desperate.

[APPLICANT: MEI LIN]

[AGE: 19]

[EXPERIENCE: NONE]

[NOTE: “I need money for my grandmother’s medicine. I will do anything. Please.”]

“Bring her in tomorrow,” Ren said. “We need a receptionist before the war starts.”

Han blinked. “War?”

Ren looked out the window at the empty Iron-Blood blockade.

“You don’t steal a Warlord’s lunch money without a fight, Han. Get the girl settled. Then lock the doors.”

[SYSTEM STATUS]

[INFRASTRUCTURE UPGRADE: TOLL ROAD]

[REVENUE STREAM: SECURED]

[THREAT LEVEL: RISING]

Author’s Note:

Ren didn’t just build a road. He cut the enemy’s jugular vein.

Next Chapter: The Iron-Blood Gang responds. And Ren hires a human who has no idea what she just walked into.

Add to Library! The War for Sector 9 begins now.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep