Munitions Empire Chapter 2019 - 1882: I Don’t Feel Any Regrets
Even without prior precedents for the Master of the World's coronation ceremony, certain time-honored customs demand strict observance during preparations.
Above all, the ceremony demands utmost grandeur and solemnity, every aspect inspected with utmost care to achieve flawless perfection. This serves as profound respect for the emerging Empire and a lasting testament etched into history.
Precious visual recordings prove essential to immortalize this magnificent occasion, allowing posterity to behold its splendor forever.
The fledgling Empire requires a resounding voice to guide its people into tomorrow. Thus, Tang Mo must deliver an address, proclaiming the Great Tang Empire's birth worldwide and declaring his unwavering stance and resolve.
Each phrase in this address demands meticulous crafting, highlighting his exceptional prowess while conveying deep concern for the populace. Beyond the dignified rite, festivities sweeping the nation stand as vital components.
The populace craves ways to vent their elation and devotion, reveling in this epochal event through songs, dances, and fervent endorsements of the new Emperor.
Such nationwide rejoicings not only bolster unity across the realm but also flaunt the Great Tang Empire's thriving magnificence to the globe.
A basic outline for the full ceremony has taken shape, yet finer points await polishing. Lessons from past coronations offer guidance, but selections must proceed warily to shun mimicking rituals from toppled dynasties. For this innovative Empire, borrowing protocols from vanished realms carries ill omen.
Ultimately, the Great Tang Empire stands as the first true global dominion, demanding a coronation rite brimming with originality and profound symbolism. Its founding sprang not from lineage but from Tang Mo's relentless toil alongside popular backing, crushing every foe. Legitimacy stems from mass acclaim and invincible might, silencing any whispers of illegitimate seizure.
Currently, the Great Tang Empire basks at its zenith, unstoppable by any power.
Should Tang Mo merely appear and pump his fist toward the masses, the whole Empire would ignite in passionate frenzy.
Now, the Great Tang Empire's banner flies over every land, proclaiming Tang Mo's dominion spanning the entire globe. Across the Eastern Continent, Marshal Tager toils on a massive endeavor—reorganizing the capitulated armies from myriad nations.
This daunting, laborious undertaking claims vast time and resources. Countless obsolete troops, dispersed like loose grains, operate without cohesion, unified orders, or drills. They must be remolded, infused with the Great Tang Empire's martial ethos, and forged into loyal guardians of the realm.
Reforms completed, they can embrace fresh missions, donning advanced arms and evolving into the elite Great Tang Regular Army, winning public esteem and adoration as true imperial warriors.
Rollout of novel drills, hierarchies, and gear proceeds step by step. Far beyond swapping gear or leaders, it reshapes yesterday's adversaries into an unbreakable bulwark shielding the Empire.
Marshal Tager grasps the colossal burden he bears; he vows to hammer these forces into an invincible legion safeguarding imperial honor. Time will stretch this effort—two or three years, five, or beyond.
Tang Mo recognizes this Herculean labor, planning a personal trip to the Eastern Continent post-coronation to bolster Tager maximally. Concurrently, Chief of Staff Luff and Vice Premier Nangong Hong will join to aid in tackling diverse challenges.
Additional appointees will fill posts, fresh statutes will govern, and the Eastern Continent brims with projects from funding to building. Such feats call for skilled hands. With Chu Muzhou as Vice Imperial Chancellor, his waning vitality unfit for frontier rigors, Nangong Hong eagerly steps up as the Empire's second Vice Premier to chase his lofty visions.
Smooth imperial functions hinge on streamlined systems, and Tang Mo pictures the duo of Prime Ministers splitting governance duties—one per continent—while twin Marshals oversee military affairs similarly, guaranteeing seamless decree enforcement and peak efficiency across both lands.
In the southern part of the Eastern Continent's Dorne Region, the bartender spearheads a fierce anti-drug campaign. The lingering shadows of Sofia’s forces once brazenly peddled Black Crow here, a nightmarish drug that has ravaged the souls of this region's inhabitants.
Wiping out the last traces of Black Crow demands a grueling, years-long struggle. Tang Mo holds an unyielding position on this front; fury blazes in his chest, fully aware of the devastating destruction Black Crow inflicts. He vows never to let this malignant scourge continue tormenting his subjects.
Regardless of the price in lives or treasures, he resolves to purge Black Crow from existence, restoring vibrant, serene days to his people.
Tang Mo himself etched the strict bans on Black Crow into the Empire’s sacred statutes, forbidding any alterations—not even by succeeding Emperors. This stands as Tang Mo’s ironclad decree, among the rare absolutes guaranteeing these laws endure forever unchanged.
Lately, Tang Mo’s duties have surged over twofold. With the intercontinental communication lines now fully linked, reports of every kind swarm his desk like a blizzard, burying him under their weight. Once, he squeezed in moments for his passion in technology, but these days he toils ceaselessly, devoting nearly every hour to governance.
At last, he wrapped up the report on Osa Port’s hurricane ravages. Tang Mo massaged his aching eyes, then rose and stretched before heading to the window.
In the hushed chamber, the sharp crack of his neck turning rang out, mingled with faint pops from joints, as he sought relief from the rigidity of endless hours hunched over paperwork.
Even with the globe’s elite personal physicians and top masseurs easing his weariness each day, Tang Mo sensed his frame had grown far more rigid than in earlier times.
Beyond the glass, soft rain descended, the overcast heavens like a colossal shroud of gray, heavy and suffocating.
"Sigh..." A soft exhale escaped Tang Mo as he stared at the downpour veiling the world, irritation stirring faintly within him.
The sprawling Great Tang Empire faced crises daily, offering scant respite. Quakes, dry spells, deluges, gales, tidal waves... disasters cascaded without mercy, driving him to desperation.
"A freak snowstorm grips Frost Winter County up north, icing over hordes of livestock...," "Scorching heat lingers in southern Flame Sun Province, claiming hundreds via heat exhaustion...," "West Territory’s barren wastes endure crippling drought, clamoring for rations and hydration...," "Eastern shores reel from hurricane barrages, Osa Port hit hardest...".
Disaster dispatches crashed upon him like waves, nearly drowning Tang Mo. Daily, he inked endless relief fund decrees, operating like an tireless automaton.
Beyond calamities of nature, myriad daily woes demanded his scrutiny.
"Fengjiang’s riverbanks cry out for dredging and fortification against floods...," "Tearing down outdated border strongholds calls for more funding...".
"The Empire’s western reaches crave fresh rail lines to ignite prosperity...," "Booming steel mills spawn worsening pollution woes...".
"Isolated corners suffer from feeble industry, stunting their growth...".
The weight atop Tang Mo’s shoulders mounted relentlessly, like an immense peak crushing down, robbing his breath. The realm stretched too wide, troubles too tangled and vast, rendering him powerless.
Suddenly, a well-known voice pierced the room’s stillness: "Your Majesty, is this truly worth it?"
No need to turn; Tang Mo knew it came from his staunchest ally—Wes.
From the room’s shadows, Wes observed Tang Mo’s fatigued form, his gaze brimming with worry. As Tang Mo’s longest-serving intimate, he had seen the man evolve from a casual blacksmith laboring mere five or six hours daily into an Emperor grinding beyond fourteen hours. He grasped the brutal toll of ruling, and the crushing duties entwined with authority.
"Your Majesty, you didn’t use to push yourself so relentlessly," Wes pressed on. "At this rate, your health will shatter."
Tang Mo wheeled about, facing Wes, a wry grin twisting his features.
"Who knows?" he murmured softly, "It might come across as a little arrogant to admit this, but serving as emperor carries its burdens; power often demands greater accountability. Certain events can't be halted, with no path for retreat. No regrets on my part, and doesn't that suffice?"
His eyes drifted back to the veil of rain beyond the window: "You see, at the start, my aim was simply to acquire weapons and rescue the blacksmith shop passed down from my father."
Wes wore a faint, bittersweet smile as well, reminiscing about his initial glimpse of the revolver.
"I even boasted back then that I'd witnessed the world's mightiest weapon," Wes chuckled. "Reflecting on it today, it's rather amusing. Who could have foreseen our missiles now bridging the full expanse of the Endless Sea."
"Precisely," Tang Mo grinned too, recalling those moments: "We forged the finest muskets on earth at that time, yet Shireck's dominance kept us struggling desperately just to endure."
He shifted his stare from the window to Wes, eyes brimming with feeling: "All these memories now feel as fresh as yesterday."
Back then, Wes served only as a Ranger, their camaraderie sparked in the heart-pounding clash at Northern Ridge.
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At readers' urging, here's a word on future intentions:
1. This novel nears its finale, hampered this year by my illnesses, family health woes, and repeated hospital runs that shattered update schedules, yielding lackluster results—thus, an imminent close is planned.
2. Dragon Spirit eyes a "Fourth Calamity" story for the next book, gearing up now. New tales refresh the spirit, with updates targeted for utmost steadiness... as years advance and family demands grow, I'll strive my hardest for reliable releases.
3. Upon wrapping this one, Dragon Spirit yearns for respite, family outings to mend health, plus draft reserves to shield the successor from update hiccups. The last reserves were two years past... regrettably.