The royal lacquer on the seizure scroll smelled of red stone and cold dynastic tyranny.
Merchant Prince Zhao Wuji stood in the Grand Office Hall of Azure Cloud Sect, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his gold-threaded cuffs. Two Imperial Censors in tall feathered hats stood flanking him, their cold hands resting on the jade pommels of their binding-swords.
Elder Wu DeZheng was already halfway behind his dark wood office desk, pale as a fresh sheet of stationery. He grabbed a stack of old family ledgers like an unsafe man hugging his headstone.
“Article Fourteen of the Royal Cultivation Accord,” Zhao Wuji enunciated, unrolling the heavy parchment across the desk with practiced, hungry theatricality. “Any sect running within the Central Province that fails to register its Peak Golden Core assets to the Central Ancestral Tablet within forty-eight hours of edict issuance shall have its commercial concessions seized.”
Zhao tapped a fingernail against the gold seal.
“That includes the Iron Sword Province spirit coal channels, your herb processing refineries, and all country trade permits. Effective right away, Azure Cloud Sect is under office receivership.”
Wu DeZheng let out a high, squeaking sound. His hand shook as he reached for a damp towel to wipe his brow.
