The brass fanfare of thirty-six royal dragon trumpets echoed across the Nine-Cauldron Colosseum. It shook the golden dust from the grand canopy.
A long runner of royal purple silk was unfurled down the central marble stairs, stretching from the VIP watching pavilion directly to the scorched edge of the blast crater.
Two hundred thousand spectators rose to their feet as one.
The court herald, an elderly scholar wearing crimson velvet robes and a tall peacock-feather hat, stepped forward to the golden stone railing, unrolling a heavy royal decree bound in yellow damask:
“By the Mandate of the Heavens and the Sovereign Will of the Great Da-Qi Dynasty! In the Nine-Cauldron Imperial Grand Prix of the Year of the Azure Dragon! For quelling the underground dragon-fire, rectifying the four-thousand-year defects of the alchemy dao, and manifesting the miraculous Nine-Pattern Solar Core of the Ancient Sages... Master Lu Zhen is hereby announcedthe Grand Champion of the Empire!”
Thunderous cheers erupted from the tiered stands, rolling across the capital like an ocean storm:
“Master Lu! Grandmaster Lu! Solar Patriarch!”
Frank walked slowly up the silk-carpeted marble stairs.
His steel-toed work boots left faint smudges of white healing ash on the royal purple cloth. His denim work jeans were dusted with bronze soot. His yellow builder hard hat was tilted back on his head.
Behind him marched his three students in crisp military-style convoy order.
Shen Shitou carried the heavy bronze survey tripod across his broad shoulder. Jiang Ling’er carried the zinc-coated sheet-metal tool bucket filled with wrenches. And Niu Mang held the heavy brass clipboard and spirit-level tucked firmly beneath his arm.
None of them looked at the cheering crowds. Their eyes were focused strictly on the grade of the stairs, noting that the marble risers had a tiny height variance between steps.
“Tripping hazard,” Shitou muttered under his breath. “Poor riser uniformity.”
“Stonework crew didn’t use a story pole,” Niu Mang whispered back. “Sloppy work.”
At the top of the pavilion, Emperor Yan stood in full ritual golden dragon armor. He was flanked by the Dowager Empress and forty civil and military ministers.
Frank approached the royal dais. Then, the court chamberlain reached out with a trembling hand, preparing to guide the victor into the standard nine-kowtow supplication.
Before the chamberlain could open his mouth, Emperor Yan stepped down from the raised throne with a swift stride, brushed the official aside, and grasped Frank’s leather-gloved forearm with both hands.
“Grandmaster Lu!” Emperor Yan said, his voice brimming with sincere emotion. “There’s no need for court ceremony between mortals and living sages. Today, you saved my capital, my court. My people from an inferno of our own making. Great Da-Qi owes you a debt that mountains of gold can’t repay.”
Frank gave the Emperor’s grip a firm, skilled handshake.
“Just standard emergency hazard mitigation, Your Majesty,” Frank said neutrally. “Your last builder ran an unlisted boiler at three times its burst pressure. If we hadn’t performed the aimed vent, you would have had three hundred tons of molten bronze raining down on your royal palace. Always check your safety valves before firing.”
The Emperor nodded solemnly, taking mental notes as if receiving ancient royal scriptures.
“Bring forth the Grand Champion’s purse!” Emperor Yan commanded.
Twelve palace guards, their muscles straining under heavy silk sashes, hauled forward ten massive chests forged from solid white-gold and bound with carved dragon jade.
Each chest was filled to the brim with top-tier, crystal-clear high-grade spirit stones. The surrounding spiritual radiance spilling from the open lids was so dense that a faint rainbow mist hovered above the platform.
“Ten million high-grade spirit stones,” the court herald announcedwith trembling lungs. “Drawn directly from the Royal Vault!”
Next, the Chief Minister of the Royal Treasury knelt before Frank, presenting a velvet-lined silver tray containing two artifacts.
The first was the Royal Pill King Seal, carved from a single fist-sized piece of thousand-year solar jade, granting supreme office power over every registered apothecary, herbal market, and alchemy guild across the empire.
The second was the 3-Star Grandmaster Token of Great Da-Qi, forged from meteoritic black gold, bearing three engraved golden stars. It granted total immunity from local judge turf, open access to royal highways. The right to supply order royal military escorts at will.
Frank picked up the 3-Star Token, weighed it in his palm, and inspected the stamp.
“Ten-gauge black iron alloy with gold inlay,” Frank noted. “Good pulling strength. Makes a decent scraper in a pinch.”
He slipped the heavy token into his leather tool belt. Then he turned his gaze back to Emperor Yan.
“Now, Grandmaster Lu,” Emperor Yan said warmly, gesturing toward the horizon of the empire. “The spirit stones and titles are merely the customary prizes of the tournament. Today, you have revealed the Nine-Pattern Golden Core. You’re a pillar of the heavens. Tell me what your heart desires! Name your estate! Do you wish for three fertile coastal provinces? The Grand Duchy of the Western Marches? Command of the Imperial Dragon Guard? Or perhaps the hand of my third daughter, Princess Yulan?”
Every minister on the platform held their breath.
To be offered land, armies, and royal blood by the Emperor himself! This was the ultimate summit of mortal power and prestige!
Frank pulled a pencil from behind his ear and tapped it against Niu Mang’s clipboard.
He reviewed his handwritten material claims for the Ironwood Peak public works project.
“Your Majesty,” Frank began in a calm, businesslike tone. “I don’t need real estate titles. Land needs property management, boundary surveys, and dealing with squatter claims. It is a massive office headache. And I certainly don’t have time for a royal princess—job sites are inherently dangerous environments, and having royalty wandering around without steel-toed boots is an CIE-404 disaster waiting to happen.”
The ministers gasped. Princess Yulan, watching from behind a silk privacy screen, turned crimson and covered her mouth in shock.
“What I actually need,” Frank continued smoothly, “is material supply and logistics support.”
Emperor Yan blinked, visibly confused: “Material... Supply?”
“Yes,” Frank said, reading down his list. “Item one: sixty heavy river barges loaded with load-bearing-grade, kiln-dried mountain hardwood and cured white cedar. Twelve-by-twelve timber, zero knot defects, treated for moisture pushback.”
“Sixty... Barges of timber?” Emperor Yan repeated, dumbfounded.
“Item two: ten thousand tons of quick-setting high-pressure fiery cement from the Southern Caldera. We have several deep foundation footings to pour before the rainy season starts, and local lime mortar doesn’t have the crushing strength we need.”
“Ten thousand tons of... Cement?”
“Item three: five hundred miles of twelve-gauge solid copper grounding wire. We need to install a nonstop lightning protection loop and equipotential bonding system across the entire Ironwood Peak ridge.”
Frank flipped the parchment page.
“Item four: full commercial access to the Royal North Rock granite quarry. We need thirty thousand cubic yards of crushed dark rock aggregate for road paving and concrete ballast.”
“And finally, Item five: a permanent, open, zero-heavy tax commercial customs exemption. Any wagon, barge, or caravan carrying load-bearing steel, pipe fittings, lumber, or aggregate bearing the Ironwood Peak builder mark must be allowed to pass through all royal tolls, country gates, and river locks without check delays or commercial duties.”
Frank closed the clipboard and clicked his pencil.
“That’s all,” Frank finished. “Can your procurement office handle that delivery schedule, or do I need to subcontract the hauling to private cartels?”
Silence fell over the royal pavilion.
The civil ministers looked at each other with wide, blank eyes. The Minister of the Treasury dropped his counting frame. The Minister of Works stared at Frank’s boots as if trying to decipher an ancient riddle.
And then, Emperor Yan’s eyes filled with tears of overwhelming, religious respect.
The Emperor fell back a half-step, clutching his chest with both hands:
“He... He asks for no golden palaces,” the Emperor whispered, his voice trembling with deep emotion. “He asks for no fertile lands to rule, no armies to conquer his enemies, no royal maidens to warm his bed... He asks only for raw rock, raw copper, fiery ash, and common timber!”
The Dowager Empress brought a silk handkerchief to her eyes, sobbing softly:
“Such ascetic purity! Such transcendent humility! The Sage seeks not to conquer the mortal world, but to mend its broken bones! He gathers the rough stone and humble wood so that he may commune with the primal elements of Heaven and Earth! He walks among us as a common workman, teaching us that true power lies in building rather than destroying!”
“A Saint!” the Prime Minister cried, falling to his knees and bowing toward Frank. “A True Saint of the Primordial Earth!”
All forty royal ministers dropped to the marble floor, kowtowing all at once:
“Hail Master Lu! The Ascetic Sage of the Earth!”
Frank stood with his arms crossed. He stared down at the begging on their knees ministers with a deadpan expression.
These royal court types have clearly never negotiated bulk freight contracts, Frank thought to himself. It shook his head.
If I had to buy ten thousand tons of high-pressure cement at retail prices at the city gates, the country toll tariffs alone would have eaten up thirty percent of the budget. Getting sixty barges of tax-free hardwood and an open line of credit at the royal quarry saves us hundreds of thousands of silver coins in overhead.
Not to mention the customs exemption. No more border guards holding up concrete deliveries for four hours to inspect the wagon axles.
Suddenly, in Frank’s eyes, the Heavenly Bug Tracker chimed with a triumphant, multi-toned fanfare!
Golden light rippled across Frank’s vision.
Three glowing, golden master blueprint pages detached from the system screen. It spun slowly in mid-air before dissolving into his soul archives!
In his mind’s eye, massive new stone-built blueprint trees unlocked:
Tier-4 Heavy Load-bearing Automation.
Macro-Scale Grid Integration & Power yard Stonework.
High-Pressure Underground steam Turbines.
Frank felt a deep, skilled warmth swell in his chest. With five Master Pages now collected, the foundational building schematics for the entire Ironwood Peak Heavy-duty Estate were finally complete.
“Your Majesty,” Frank said, extending his hand. “Do we have a deal on the delivery schedule?”
Emperor Yan scrambled up, seizing Frank’s hand with intense, desperate enthusiasm: “It shall be done! By tomorrow morning, sixty barges of royal hardwood shall leave the capital! The royal quarry at North Rock is entirely at your disposal! Any toll collector who dares question your caravans shall be carried out for treason against the state!”
“Execution is unnecessary,” Frank said dryly. “Just make sure they stamp the bill of lading promptly. Transit delays ruin concrete cure schedules.”
Frank turned to his students.
“Shitou, Ling’er, Niu Mang. Grab the chests. We’re heading back to Ironwood Peak.”
Shen Shitou stepped forward, lifted three massive white-gold chests filled with spirit stones onto his shoulders with easy high-pressure strength, while Ling’er and Niu Mang secured the leftover chests with heavy tie-down straps.
With ten million spirit stones secured and sixty barges of premium timber en route, Frank adjusted his yellow hard hat. He turned his back on the cheering two hundred thousand spectators. Then he walked down the grand avenue toward the carriage house.