A night went by.

Shen Cong's Talent rose a little further.

Early the next morning, the Grand Preceptor Tian Ziwen, who held Nanyang, arrived. He was a middle-aged man of about forty, waving a folding fan, with much of the refined gentleman about him.

Here was a man with a gift for plotting. That was Shen Cong's first thought on seeing him.

He was only about 4.5H, an ultimate-grade iron person. Yet he had maneuvered between Luo Shouhai and Zhang Qi, two nuclear-grades, and become one of the four at the top. Clearly his methods outran his strength.

Shen Cong disliked men like this on instinct.

Tian Ziwen, though, behaved as if all of this were perfectly natural, and as if he understood it perfectly well. "Chairman Huang. So young and so accomplished—your bearing is a marvel... A few days out of sight and the Chinese Empire is about to vanish like smoke. It stirs a great many feelings. But a wise man bends with the times. I'll do whatever Chairman Huang arranges."

Shen Cong couldn't be bothered wasting words on an old operator like this.

He said flatly, "In a few days the new government will have the road through open. When it does, you cooperate with whatever it arranges. For now, stability comes first. And that merging of religion and government you had going—no more of it. The new government strictly forbids religion. It wastes productive strength!"

"Rest assured, Chairman Huang. The religion was only ever to secure myself a stable foundation. Now that I'm joining the government, naturally I'll go by the government's rules and Chairman Huang's rules. In truth I prefer working inside rules. With my talents, there's a great deal I can do."

Shen Cong waved him out. "Look to yourself."

As with Wu Jun, Tian Ziwen played the cooperative man. And as with Wu Jun, Shen Cong would tell the new government to watch him closely and to report any promotion he received. That overstepped his authority, but Shen Cong had to be sure the Chinese Empire's leftovers never became a danger.

Overstepping hardly…