62: The Covenant of Gapsin

"No matter how far away they are, they will be punished!"

Sunlight spilled over the battlefield, and dust still floated in the air. Shen Xiaochuan stood in place, his blade hanging by his side, the tip dripping with blood. The golden light in his eyes gradually faded, and the runes on his skin vanished bit by bit. That battle just now had exhausted all of his strength.

Chen Yan walked out of the ruins, his left arm wrapped in bandages, walking with a limp. He reached Shen Xiaochuan and took a breath.

"How should we handle the captives?" he asked.

Shen Xiaochuan didn't answer immediately. He looked at the enemies kneeling in the distance, then toward the direction of Skydome City. The wind brushed his sleeves, and the copper gear sewn onto his cuff swayed gently.

"Don't kill them," he said. "Make them sign."

Chen Yan frowned. "Sign?"

"Yes." Shen Xiaochuan's lips twitched slightly. "It's called the 'Jiachen Covenant.' Reparations, apologies, ceding territory, and a ceasefire—not a single article can be missing."

Chen Yan was stunned. "You mean... negotiate terms with them?"

"It's not a negotiation." Shen Xiaochuan looked at him. "It's an order. They must sign, or they'll be carried back with their hands and feet broken."

Chen Yan was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. I'll go arrange it."

Half an hour later, the meeting in the main hall began.

Twelve people sat on both sides of the long table. The USA, Japan, the British Empire, Kimchi Country, Hans Country, Country F, the Southern European Alliance, North Vietnam, Kangaroo Country, Polar Bear, A-san Country, and Ba-tie—each country had sent a representative, and all were now escorted here. Trump sat on the far right, his suit rumpled and messy, his face covered in bruises, and his fingers trembling slightly.

When Shen Xiaochuan walked in, everyone looked up at him.

He wasn't wearing armor, but was still in his deep blue work clothes, his cuffs adorned with a copper gear. Empty-handed, he slowly walked to the head seat and sat down.

"Is everyone here?" he asked.

No one answered.

He didn't care, picking up a scroll from the table and unfurling it.

"The Jiachen Covenant, nine hundred and ninety-nine articles in total," he said. "Article One: Reparations of 450 million taels of silver, to be paid off over one hundred years."

The meeting room instantly erupted in an uproar.

"You're crazy!" Trump stood up abruptly. "Where is there any silver nowadays? We stopped using that unit long ago!"

"I know." Shen Xiaochuan looked at him. "But do you know why it's 450 million?"

No one responded.

"One hundred and twenty years ago, in the Xinchou Treaty, we paid the Great Powers 450 million taels," his voice was calm. "Today, with compound interest, you will pay back every single cent."

Trump's face changed drastically. "That's in the past! We didn't participate at all!"

"But you enjoyed the benefits," Shen Xiaochuan interrupted him. "You are the ones who occupied the most resources, you are the ones whose Believers expanded the fastest, and you are the ones who suppressed our Huaxia Divine Domain. Now that you've lost, you want to pretend it has nothing to do with you?"

His gaze swept across the room. "Over the past three years, every single one of your countries has stepped on us. Now, it's your turn to bow your heads."

"This covenant has no validity!" the UK representative roared. "Divine domains are independent; no one can force us to sign!"

"Law?" Shen Xiaochuan chuckled. "I am the law right now."

He snapped his fingers.

Two soldiers walked in carrying an iron chest and opened it—inside were red-hot branding irons and finger-cutting pliers.

"You don't have to sign if you don't want to," Shen Xiaochuan said indifferently. "For every country that refuses to sign, I will disable one hand of their Main God. Shall we start with the USA?"

Everyone was dead silent.

Trump stared at him intently. "This is tyranny."

"Tyranny?" Shen Xiaochuan leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold. "When you attacked our divine kingdom's core with the Faith Virus, why didn't you call it tyranny? When you sent suicide Believers to sneak attack our borders and kill our people, why didn't you talk about rules?"

He stood up, walked to the table, and leaned one hand on the surface.

"I'll give you three choices," he said. "First, sign; second, don't sign and I'll take action; third, don't sign and don't let me take action—in which case, I will immediately deploy the Azure Dragon and White Tiger Legions to completely destroy all of your divine domains."

He paused.

"Which one do you choose?"

No one moved.

After a long time, the Japanese representative spoke in a low voice. "I can sign."

"You?" Shen Xiaochuan looked at him. "Is Zhang Benyifeng dead? Are you the new Main God?"

The man nodded. "The Yamamoto Family has been wiped out. I represent the remaining Japanese Divine Domain."

"Good." Shen Xiaochuan handed over a pen. "Write your name."

The man took the pen and wrote 'Amaterasu Ichiro' at the end of the scroll, his hand trembling slightly.

Shen Xiaochuan took a look, then nodded. "Next."

Trump gritted his teeth. "I won't sign."

"Fine." Shen Xiaochuan turned around. "Ling Feng."

A person walked in quickly from outside, holding iron pliers.

"Hold him down," Shen Xiaochuan ordered.

Two soldiers stepped forward and firmly pinned Trump to his chair. He struggled, but his spiritual power was sealed, leaving him unable to move.

Ling Feng approached, raised the pliers, and reached for his right hand.

"Wait!" Trump roared. "I'll sign! I'll sign!"

Shen Xiaochuan raised his hand to signal.

Ling Feng stopped.

"Wouldn't it have been better to say that sooner?" Shen Xiaochuan handed over the pen again.

Trump took it with both hands and signed his name with a tremble. The tip of the pen tore the paper, leaving a long ink smear.

Then, one by one, everyone signed their names.

Finally, it was the Polar Bear representative. He put down the pen, looked up, and said, "You won. But you won't be this strong forever."

"I don't need to be strong forever," Shen Xiaochuan put away the scroll. "I only need to be stronger than you at this very moment."

He sat back down, flipped to the first page, and ran his fingers over the signatures.

"From this day forth, on every Jiachen Day, the Main Gods of all signatory nations must perform a kowtow to the Huaxia Statue," he said. "The Japanese Divine Domain shall lower its flag three times every morning for a hundred years. Kimchi Country shall close all teleportation arrays and is forbidden from expanding its divine kingdom for ten years. A-san Country shall hand over its southern mineral veins..."

He continued reading article after article.

Some closed their eyes, some lowered their heads, and some dug their nails into their palms.

After reading the nine hundred and ninety-ninth article, Shen Xiaochuan closed the scroll.

"The Jiachen Covenant is now officially in effect," he said. "A violation of any single article shall be considered a declaration of war."

He looked at Trump. "Do you think it's meaningless?"

Trump remained silent.

"But it has meaning," Shen Xiaochuan's voice was low. "At least it has meaning to me. My parents were steel mill workers. When I was a child, my family was poor, and I even had to borrow textbooks from others. You once laughed at me for being 'Mechanical System Trash,' saying I would never be able to rise up in my life."

He paused for a moment.

"Today, I'm not here to destroy your divine domains, nor am I here to kill your people. I just want you to remember—that there was a young man in work clothes who made every single one of you kneel and sign your names."

He stood up and placed the scroll on the table.

"Chen Yan."

"Here."

"Post this covenant on the homepage of the Blue Star Channel. Make the title clear: 'Full Text of the Jiachen Covenant Released.'"

"Yes."

Shen Xiaochuan walked to the window. Outside, the sunlight was bright, and the cleanup of the battlefield had already begun. Bodies were being moved, captives were being led away, and the flag of Skydome City was rising once again.

He didn't look back.

"Let them all see," he said. "What it means to rise up."