Usually, compiling a program would require a CPU core, but artificial intelligence had taken over that part. With soul tools serving as the carrier, AI could now handle everything from blueprint design to full production, completely replacing that function.
Moreover, this was a mid-level artificial intelligence—it wasn't just about simple computations. Its potential had yet to be fully tapped.
"It's difficult, sure. But with a little effort, it should be possible, right?" Xu Cheng smiled.
"Alright then, Director Wang, you've been in Mingde Hall long enough, haven't you? If you can manufacture this set of equipment and refine it to the point where it can be installed on mechas—no, I want it small enough to fit on a single lens." Xu Cheng looked at the glasses worn by the white-haired old man. "In other words, it shouldn't be a fixed device. I want it miniaturized to the point where every soldier, every warrior can wear one. Not just for mechas, but also all-terrain mobile turrets and tanks."
Data visualization—it should be an entire system. It must gather all friendly forces' data (including troop numbers, ranks of soul engineers, tank counts, and soul tool inventory by level), allowing generals to utilize AI to issue the most optimal commands in an ever-changing battlefield.
Of course, it must include enemy data too.
"You're serious?!" Director Wang was visibly shaken.
Despite being a Soul Douluo, he was already graying and aging. He probably only had a few more years before retirement, but hitting a high rank right before stepping down was still quite significant.
"Ahem… Your Highness, I mean, I will give my all to develop it—I absolutely will not fail your expectations!" The old man realized he'd lost composure and quickly corrected himself.
"Heh, when have I ever lied?" Xu Cheng grinned.
"Hahaha…" The old man laughed awkwardly.
"To be honest, if not for the AI core you provided, our current distance tests, targeting, and other features would still be in chaos—forget about coordinated, precision strikes." The old man slipped in a timely compliment.
As they walked out of the lab…
Nana caught up, tapped her right ear, and a hidden earpiece appeared.
With a solemn expression, she said, "Brother, a letter just arrived from the Star Luo side."
"Hmm?" Xu Cheng was briefly surprised. "From who?"
"Dai Hao!"
A few minutes later—
Xu Cheng stood still, dumbfounded as Nana read the contents of the letter. He was a bit dazed.
So Dai Hao has… lost it?
I mean, Juzi represents the Sun-Moon Empire. You didn't even ask who gave the order? Whether there's someone pulling the strings? You just immediately target her?
Still… his instincts are surprisingly accurate.
Xu Cheng curled his lips into a smile.
"So, Brother, what should we do?" Nana asked coldly.
She'd always gotten along well with Juzi. Now that Dai Hao had dumped a letter at the Phoenix Camp demanding they hand over her bestie—was that acceptable?
Maybe look in the mirror? Who wants your ragtag army of a hundred thousand?
In today's world, reshaped by soul tools, ordinary soldiers were practically useless. Years ago, the so-called Zhuge Divine Crossbow had already become obsolete, and the original Three Nations still hadn't adapted to the shock of soul tool warfare.
Before the next Sun-Moon Empire offensive, they hadn't had time to adjust their armies.
Those so-called hundred thousand troops? Put nicely, they were just cannon fodder. Their role was to help delay the enemy and deplete their soul power by supporting soul masters.
This was only seen once in the original novel—when Juzi was besieged by the rebelling Duke of Glory, trapped with only a few dozen soul masters.
A single shot from a Level Four Soul Tool Cannon covered about a hundred square meters and could cause 40–50 casualties in tightly packed formations. Short of suicide attacks, the only way these soldiers could drain Juzi's soul power was through sheer attrition. Arrows and the like were easily blocked by soul tool barriers, which barely consumed any soul power—just a small amount to maintain the shield.
But the key point: even then, she had a supporting team of over a hundred soul masters.
Juzi had been hunted by two waves of enemies. The first wave's weakest members were Soul Elders and up. The second wave? Over ten thousand regular soldiers.
It's foreseeable that even a highly trained army of one hundred thousand, without the support of soul masters, would likely be wiped out in half an hour by just a sixty-man soul engineer troop.
Not enough soul power? Just bring enough milk bottles [soul power storage devices].
"Want Juzi?" Xu Cheng chuckled. "Send him a few kilos—tell him there's plenty more where that came from."
"Idiot."
"Pfft~" Nana giggled, covering her mouth, rolling her eyes at him. "Brother, you're getting meaner by the day. I wonder what Dai Hao's face will look like when he sees that whole basket of oranges."
"But it seems Juzi's actions really did strain Dai Hao and Xu Jiawei's relationship," Xu Cheng mused.
In the original novel, Dai Hao wasn't exactly a die-hard loyalist, but he never showed signs of rebellion either. He was completely loyal to Xu Jiawei. In the end, it took Tang San stepping in, forcing Xu Jiawei to abdicate, and only then did Dai Hao reluctantly accept the throne.
Didn't expect Juzi blowing up an ancestral tomb to drive a wedge so deep between the two—one that might be beyond repair.
Makes you wonder, since that tomb's been there for ten thousand years, maybe Dai Mubai will show up too? After all, his ancestors are in there…
But judging by what Destruction said, the Douluo Plane seems to have broken free of Tang San's control. Which means people like Dai Mubai and the rest of Tang San's crew won't be able to run rampant across the continent like they did in the original (with Qiankun Sun Moon Valley, and Ning Rongrong guest-starring as the Goddess of Love).
"Alright, enough with the nonsense," Xu Cheng waved it off.
A newly promoted Title Douluo? If the Sun-Moon Empire weren't temporarily avoiding war, he'd be the first one shackled.
Seriously thinks he's important.
Sun-Moon Empire Royal Academy.
In a spacious venue, a long line stretched to the entrance.
Xu Cheng scratched his head, noticing many students enthusiastically chatting about whether they'd look good on camera, or if they'd be chosen.
Some of them were even senior Mingde Hall students.
"Filming's this popular now?" Xu Cheng asked with amused curiosity.
"You have no idea. Ever since The Legend of Tang San blew up, several actors became overnight stars. Now actors are hot property—not just paid well, but adored wherever they go." Nana explained.
Xu Cheng nodded slightly.
A while back, he'd been laying the groundwork for the film industry—popularizing image-recording stones, giving early directors practice through short films and dramas. Now, even remote towns and villages had access to image-stones. He'd opened up the market. After all, replicating a two-hour film cost only about one gold soul coin, while the income from a single showing could exceed ten.
Once he deemed the market mature, he began sneaking in his personal projects.
The first big production: The Legend of Tang San.
Its realistic fight scenes, epic narrative, and attractive cast made it an instant hit across regions. Image stones were selling faster than they could be reproduced.
And the audience wasn't just ordinary civilians—even soul masters, who usually lived in a boring world, found this new form of entertainment revolutionary.
According to the latest data, over 2,000 towns, 100+ cities, and more than a dozen provinces across the Sun-Moon Empire were fully covered.
Even overseas markets (the original Three Nations) were quietly catching on. In many villages, image stones were circulating. Feedback was slower due to tighter imperial controls—kind of like black-market screenings in the 20th century, held secretly at night.
No rush. Xu Cheng believed The Legend of Tang San would stir up a storm across the entire Douluo Continent. By the time the emperors of Tianhun, Douling, and Xingluo realized it, it might be too late to stop it.
"Let's go check it out."
Xu Cheng gestured and walked inside.
"Senior Xu Cheng!"
"Senior Xu Cheng!"
…
The crowd buzzed with excitement upon seeing Xu Cheng.
Many had enrolled in the Royal Academy just to be his schoolmates. Here, they could call him "senior." Outside? He was someone they'd never get near in a lifetime.
Xu Cheng smiled and waved, walking up to the front desk.
There stood the young director—his personal director—who'd gained fame after directing The Legend of Tang San.
"Casting actors here?" Xu Cheng placed a hand on his shoulder, motioning for him not to stand, and looked around.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Let me see the résumés." Xu Cheng picked one up.
"Mingde Hall, Practical Control Department. Name: Tian Ji. Martial Soul: Wood. Rank: Soul King. Grade 5 Soul Engineer. Special skill: Can control wood like vines. Soul skill Three Rooms and One Hall can rapidly build livable wooden structures…"
Looking at the bright-eyed, bushy-browed young man who was bouncing with excitement, Xu Cheng gave a slight nod.
The skill was a bit gimmicky, but that was perfect for movies.
"Alright, you're in!"
Tian Ji jumped three feet in the air with joy and ran off cheering.
Xu Cheng settled into a chair, indulging in the joy of casting roles like a real director.
Mingdou Mountain Range.
Inside the White Tiger Duke's command tent.
Dai Hao sat meditating, his soul power radiating in a dense reddish hue—proof of his strength. To break through to Title Douluo in his early forties was no small feat. After all, even forming his soul core had been done solo, without any external help.
His entire strength had been forged through countless brushes with death.
Unlike soul masters who lacked combat experience, he was either in battle or on his way to battle. His fighting ability was well above average compared to his peers at the same level.
"Report!"
A messenger soldier rushed into the military tent carrying a small wooden box. He dropped to one knee and cupped his fists."The enemy has sent an item, and specifically requested that it be delivered to the Grand Marshal himself."
"Oh?" Dai Hao opened his eyes, and his tiger-like gaze radiated a pressure that shook the soldier to his core, leaving him frozen and too afraid to rise.
Du Leisi opened his mouth slightly, his eyes also showing a bit of surprise.
Dai Hao beckoned with his hand, signaling the messenger to bring the item forward.
"Yes, sir!" Feeling the pressure subside, the messenger quickly stepped forward a few paces, placed the item on the commander's desk, then cupped his fists again and exited the tent.
"Grand Marshal..." Du Leisi looked at the wooden box, hesitating slightly.
"It has some weight," Dai Hao said, a trace of delight appearing on his face.
"Looks like the Sun-Moon Empire has taken my words to heart. Could it be... that inside is her severed head? Though this isn't exactly what I asked for, it might just be enough to make me consider surrendering."
As he spoke, he eagerly opened the box. But when he saw the bright orange gleam inside, the smile on his face slowly disappeared, and his hand stiffened.
"What is it?" Du Leisi curiously leaned forward—and when he saw the clean, full, and plump oranges inside, the corner of his mouth twitched.
It was an insult…
A naked, unapologetic insult with no room for misinterpretation.
The calm aura Dai Hao had barely regained was instantly thrown into disarray. His eyes flared with rage, and with a loud bang, he flung the box to the ground.
"That Xu Cheng is so arrogant he dares not even acknowledge the 100,000 troops under my command?! To humiliate me for the sake of one woman—how dare he!"
Du Leisi stayed silent. He watched as oranges rolled all over the tent floor. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something—there was a small note inside.
He quietly picked it up, and without telling Dai Hao, folded it into his palm.
Two words—
"Grand Marshal," Du Leisi said with a bitter smile, "what we're facing now may include trouble from the capital as well."
"After all, no one wants us to descend into civil war more than the Sun-Moon Empire does. If Xu Cheng sends the letter you wrote to the capital, His Majesty might..."
Dai Hao's expression grew increasingly dark and uncertain.
After all, in order to demonstrate his sincerity to the Sun-Moon side, the letter had been handwritten by him. If Xu Cheng forwarded it to Xu Jiayi and he verified the handwriting—then followed up on it—Dai Hao would definitely be in trouble.
"Might as well say that sincerity was fed to the dogs!" He began pacing back and forth inside the tent.
"Worst case scenario... I'll just prepare to declare myself king!" Dai Hao's eyes narrowed slightly.
This nearby administrative province was all part of his fiefdom.
In other words, he had enough influence here to rally support. If he truly wished to secede and establish himself as king, splitting this province from the Star Luo Empire's map—it wasn't impossible.
From that moment on, the region would become a contested hotspot. Though he'd be wedged between the Sun-Moon Empire and Star Luo, the most dangerous place is often the safest—unless a war truly broke out, no one would dare make a move against him.
In the Douluo Continent, the feudal system resembled that of Western medieval times.
A country was ruled by a monarch and divided into countless smaller fiefs.
The noble ranks—dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons—each governed their lands with absolute authority, including military power, taxation, and financial matters. They were essentially regional warlords.
Though the Duke of the White Tiger's main residence was near the imperial capital, that was merely for...
But his actual territory lay in a large province in the south of the Star Luo Empire.
Just like in the original story, the Sun-Moon Empire's rebellious Duke Huihuang had been able to openly raise an army of tens of thousands—that alone spoke to the absolute control he had over his lands.
"This... actually sounds feasible?" Du Leisi's eyes lit up.
(End of Chapter)