The army returned to the palace under the gloom of a bruised twilight, their victory muted by the empty spaces in their ranks. They came without their king.

  Lǐ Róng rushed to the gates, his face bright with anticipation, only to have the light fade as he saw the sombre procession. "Captain Zhào," he called out, his voice tight with sudden worry. "Where is Jian Zhi?"

  Captain Zhào placed a heavy hand on the Duke's shoulder. "It's his first time losing his men. He needs time alone with his thoughts. He will return. Do not fear for him."

  Lǐ Róng's face, once blooming with joy, grew pale with concern. He murmured to himself, a quiet plea carried on the evening breeze, "Please be alright, Jian Zhi. This is but the first of a hundred such sorrows you will face on the path you have chosen. Your heart must not break now."

  After a brief, solemn welcome, the fallen were honoured. Their bodies were laid to rest in the newly consecrated Heroes' Grove, their names spoken with reverence before the earth claimed them.

  Then, Lǐ Róng turned to the living, clapping his hands together with forced cheer. "Enough of this gloom! It is time to celebrate our victory with a feast! Who wants booze?"

  A nervous silence fell over the crowd. Soldiers glanced at one another, struggling to form a reply. Captain Zhào stepped forward, his voice firm yet respectful. "Duke Lǐ Róng, I understand your love for strong drink. But alcohol is banned within our kingdom. Now that you are one of us, this law extends to you as well."

  Shocked, Lǐ Róng demanded to know why. Captain Zhào explained the king's decree—that a clear mind was the first defence against chaos, and a sober soldier was a disciplined one. It was a law born of pragmatism and a desire for a higher order.

  Lǐ Róng absorbed this, then nodded slowly. "I see. Then we shall leave the alcohol. Let us feast until our hearts are content!"

  As he spoke, a palpable shift occurred in the air—a thick, heavy aura that signalled the approach of immense power. Jian Zhi walked slowly from the shadows, The Punisher resting on his hip. His eyes were hollow, the light within them extinguished by the weight of command.

  Lǐ Róng whispered, "Wait, is that him? Captain Zhào, he has returned."

  The two men went to him. "I heard the news," Lǐ Róng said gently. "But Jian Zhi, you are the king. You cannot be a prisoner to guilt for long. You must look to the future and the present, not dwell in the past."

  Jian Zhi's dead eyes shifted, focusing on Lǐ Róng. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.[Jian Zhi]: "You are right. I must think of the living, not only the dead. Thank you for your words." His voice was rough, but a sliver of resolve had returned. "Let us go. Everyone is waiting, yes?"

  The three men entered the great hall, and the sight that greeted them was a balm to the soul. Long tables groaned under the weight of the first great feast of the Divine Land of Justice.

  The Victory Feast

  The air was rich with the scent of a dozen different spices, a testament to the kingdom's spirit of fusion and innovation.

  1. Blazing Qilin Stir-Fry Platters of thinly sliced venison, seared over a roaring flame with vibrant peppers and onions. The meat was glazed in a deep, spicy-sweet sauce with a sharp, clean finish, a perfect balance of fierce power and impeccable control that mirrored the kingdom's finest warriors.

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  2. The Architect's Flaky Roll Golden, pan-fried scallion pancakes, their layers as intricate as a well-laid plan, were served wrapped around a hearty filling of spiced minced lamb and crisp bean sprouts. Each bite was a testament to a powerful core encased in a structured design.

  3. Phantom Ember Skewers Morsels of chicken, marinated in a blend of earthy turmeric, warm cumin, and fire-kissed chillies, were grilled over open coals. They left a trail of aromatic smoke that vanished as quickly as it appeared, a culinary homage to swift, decisive strikes

  4. Golden Hearth Noodle Bowl A hearty, golden stew of lentils, tempered with fragrant ghee and mustard seeds, into which delicate, hand-pulled wheat noodles were stirred just before serving. It was a comforting, unifying dish that promised to sustain both body and spirit.

  5. Stone-Baked Union Bread A hybrid flatbread, its dough layered for softness yet baked in a blazing stone oven until its surface was smoky and resilient. It symbolised the unbreakable bond forged between the people and their king, sturdy enough to withstand any trial.

  6. Crimson Fire-Glazed Strips Tender strips of beef, marinated in a savoury base and then supercharged with a paste of fiery red chillies and ginger. The flavour was sweet, smoky, and intensely spicy, building with every bite like an awakening inferno.

  7. Steadfast Guardian Noodles: Thick, chewy hand-pulled noodles, served not in a broth but tossed in a rich, savoury paste of fermented beans with a hint of creamy tang, topped with fresh herbs. It was a dish of immense strength and comforting depth, a tribute to those who held the line.

  8. Garden of Renewal Salad A refreshing platter of crisp cucumber, sharp white radish, and vibrant herbs, all dressed in a light, sweet-sour dressing that cleansed the palate. It spoke of healing and the hope for new beginnings after the brutality of war.

  9. The Punisher's Wok-Seared Rice A definitive dish where every grain of rice was separate, coated in a fierce, dry blend of mouth-numbing peppercorns and chillies, and studded with diced venison sausage. It was unapologetically powerful and efficient, leaving a memorable heat on the tongue.

  10. The Sovereign's Shared Platter The feast's centrepiece: a large platter featuring tender chicken in a creamy, spiced tomato gravy, a pile of pungent, fermented vegetables, and a stack of thin, flexible pancakes. It invited diners to assemble their own creations, a symbol of their active role in building this new, unified kingdom.

  The feast worked its magic. Laughter, tentative at first, soon echoed through the hall. The weight on Jian Zhi's shoulders seemed to lessen fractionally with each shared story and grateful toast with spiced tea.

  Later, under a canopy of stars, Lǐ Róng and Jian Zhi walked through the palace gardens.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Duke Lǐ Róng, what do you know of the Northern Steel Province? When I fought Xuè Jùn, he mentioned it."

  [Lǐ Róng]: "It is a province of the Azure Mandate Empire, now ruled by one of the royal heirs. I will dispatch the Yè Yǐng Network. They are the finest intelligence gatherers in the land. They will procure a full dossier on the royal family for you."

  [Jian Zhi]: "There is no need to hurry. First, we must build. This capital must become the heart of the Divine Land of Justice. We need more forges, more workshops, and the Earth Dragon's service to connect our lands. We have until the next new year to transform this nation."

  [Lǐ Róng]: "We have only one winter. Are you certain such a change is possible?"

  A spark, fierce and determined, finally returned to Jian Zhi's eyes. He offered a small, confident smirk. "Watch me."

  Thus, the great labour began. In the four months that followed, the Cursed Earth was utterly transformed. Where desolation once ruled, sturdy houses now stood, their foundations bonded with a mystical resilience. The deep, resonant call of the Earth Dragon locomotive echoed through newly laid tracks that stitched the province together. In the shipyards, the skeletons of future warships took shape, vessels destined to command the seas. Along the newly fortified borders, tall watchtowers rose, their silhouettes punctuated by the long, silent barrels of the Devil's Whisper. The army itself was reborn; new squads specialised in long-range terror and controlled demolition, while every swordsman now trained to weave their Hún Guāng into an unbreakable defence and a devastating strike.

  The feast had been a promise. The kingdom rising from the snow and soil was its fulfilment.