The aroma of slow-simmered Immortal Abalone Wontons drifted thirty miles down Central Dragon-Vein Avenue.
Golden banquet tables, carved from fragrant sandalwood and draped with crimson silk runners, stretched as far as the eye could see.
For the first time in the history of the Central Heavenly Capital, the imperial tradition of demanding annual tribute from the provinces had been completely abolished.
Instead of commoners hauling grain carts to the palace gates under the whips of imperial bailiffs, Lin Mo had inverted the flow of capital.
Across every prefecture connected to the Nine-Province Spirit Wi-Fi Grid, identical banquet plazas had been set up simultaneously. Large holographic mirrors broadcast the central capital celebration live to every county town and village square.
Lin Mo stood on the university pavilion with Su Wan, watching Grandma Chen and three hundred volunteer chefs roll out fresh wonton wrappers.
“Chairman Lin,” Su Wan said, holding her clipboard. “The municipal caterers prepared five hundred thousand banquet tables across all nine provinces. The total cost for the ingredients, spirit-ale, and staff logistics is ready for approval.”
“How much for the invoice?” Lin Mo asked, sipping a cup of iced plum tea.
