Three days later, the sun rose over what used to be called Joyous-Gold Mountain.
The gaudy gold-plated statues of Sect Master Jin Wancai were gone—melted down by Hong Ling to mint reserve bars. In their place, spanning the entire mountain plaza and connected to Golden-Lotus City below by four fused bronze escalators, stood a gleaming white marble building with a giant clock tower and a green-and-gold sign fifty feet wide:
[ DRY-WELL CENTRAL BANK — HEADQUARTERS & CONTINENTAL SPIRIT-BATTERY HUB ]
At eight o’clock sharp, the brass Enlightenment Bell atop the clock tower rang eight clear notes.
The heavy glass front doors slid open automatically, and five thousand smiling farmers, weavers, blacksmiths, and wandering cultivators from across the surrounding provinces walked into the cool, sunlit marble lobby.
Unlike the old Joyous-Gold Bank—where guards used to beat anyone wearing patched clothes and the interest rates were written in invisible ink—the new Dry-Well Central Bank lobby smelled like fresh jasmine tea. Free cold Sweet-Spring water dispensers stood in every corner, and a huge wooden chalkboard on the wall listed the simplest rules in the world:
Behind the long row of polished oak teller windows sat twelve bank clerks wearing crisp yellow vests.
