A Pawn's Passage-Chapter 1303: Steam Evangelical

Qi Xuansu was not surprised by the so-called “Anti-Daoist Bill.”

Over the years, the Holy Court had been secretly promoting the idea of the Daoist menace, slandering the East as a threat to the West and calling for Western nations to unite against it. There was even a famous painting of an apostle with wings leading seven valkyries standing on the seashore, gazing across the ocean, where an Eastern dragon carrying a cross-legged Easterner was flying west. The scene was titled “The Roar of the Evil Dragon.”

This anti-Daoist bill was nothing more than another extension of the Daoist menace narrative.

Whether the bill would actually be enacted was still uncertain. If this were the Western Continent itself, the Holy Court would certainly not allow such a bill to pass. That was because the Holy Court had no confidence in defeating the Daoist Order, and the two sides maintained extensive trade relations. As a result, they dared not openly tear relations apart.

The situation on the New Continent was somewhat more complicated. Although it was also within the Holy Court’s sphere of influence, many factions existed here.

The Daoist Order had three major sects. Each of these sects was further divided into numerous sub-branches, some of which had already vanished, such as the Gezao Sect. The Holy Court was no different.

After entering the era of the Steam Revolution, the Steam Evangelical Sect rose rapidly. They were somewhere between the traditional factions of the Holy Court and the Arcane Council, believing that steam was a gift of the Supreme Will and the goddess’s gospel. As steam technology came into widespread use, the Steam Evangelical Sect grew increasingly powerful, spreading widely across the New Continent, where the Holy Court lacked deep roots.

In other words, the Steam Evangelical Sect was the true ruler of the Northern New Continent. Nominally, they belonged to the Holy Court, but in practice, they possessed enormous autonomy. When necessary, they might not obey the Holy Seat’s commands, nor would they deliberately align their actions with it.

It was well known that the broader Holy Court forces lost the Southern New Continent because of fierce internal conflict. That was because of the disagreement over the ownership of the new territory between the Holy Seat and the newly rising Steam Evangelical Sect.

In this respect, the Steam Evangelical Sect was rather similar to the Western Daoist Order.

If the Western Daoist Order completely obeyed the Daoist Order’s commands, then the Daoist Order would not have needed to dispatch an envoy specifically to coordinate and stabilize the situation.

This time, the Daoist Order’s stance had been somewhat forced by the Western Daoist Order. The Daoist Order did not want to take a clear position, at least not yet. It preferred to maintain the status quo for the time being and wait until its internal conflicts eased before considering the next step.

However, the series of actions taken by the Western Daoist Order and the Tawantin Empire left the Daoist Order with little room to maneuver. Only two choices remained—either declare support or oppose them. Under such circumstances, the Daoist Order could only choose to support them.

After the Daoist Order clearly declared its support, the Holy Seat on the Western Continent did not react with the thunderous fury many had imagined. In fact, there was even a hint of schadenfreude. The Steam Evangelical Sect, whose direct interests were threatened, reacted most strongly, even going so far as to push for measures like the anti-Daoist bill.

In truth, the Daoists they had in mind were not the Daoist Order of the distant Eastern Continent nor the Great Xuan Court, but rather the Western Daoist Order in the Southern New Continent. This bill was aimed at them.

Naturally, the Western Daoist Order would never state this openly to the Daoist Order. They would certainly portray the anti-Daoist bill as a declaration of war against the Daoist Order, using it to tie the Daoist Order down once again.

The Daoist Order had many interests to consider and could not devote all its attention to the New Continent. This was merely one matter among many. However, the Western Daoist Order clearly wanted the Daoist Order to give the New Continent greater attention and support, so they inevitably resorted to certain methods.

According to the information held by Sage Qingwei and Qi Xuansu, the Western Daoist Order and the Tawantin Empire had never formally reported their intended actions to Jade Capital, which placed the Daoist Order in a passive position. Of course, the Western Daoist Order did not dare to go too far. If they truly angered the Daoist Order and caused it to withdraw its support, the Western Daoist Order itself would face destruction. Therefore, such methods were kept within certain limits.

In fact, the fifth-generation Grand Master had long foreseen this problem. During a secret council meeting, he proposed strict measures to guard against external forces interfering with the Daoist Order’s highest decisions. These external forces included the Great Xuan Court, the nobility of various nations, the Western Daoist Order, the Confucian School, and Western powers led by the Holy Court.

The fifth-generation Grand Master stated that if any external force could participate in the competition for the position of Grand Master and thereby influence Daoist decision-making, then the Daoist Order would inevitably be hijacked by that external force and compelled to act against its own interests.

Due to this secret meeting, the Daoist Order began strictly restricting the backgrounds of those eligible to become Omniscient Sages. Someone with a background like Chen Shuhua would no longer have any chance of rising to that position. Neither the Western Daoist Order nor the Great Xuan Court had any right to interfere in matters related to the selection of the Grand Master.

The reasoning was simple. If the Western Daoist Order and the Great Xuan Court could influence the choice of Grand Master, then every candidate would have to curry favor with them, sacrificing Daoist interests to secure their support. Any candidate unwilling to compromise would lose their backing, while rivals would gain it instead. Over time, this would create a strange situation in which no one dared to challenge the interests of these two forces, and they would effectively become the masters of the Daoist Order.

The fifth-generation Grand Master simply sealed this loophole entirely. Anyone from the aforementioned backgrounds could rise only as far as an ordinary second-rank Taiyi Daoist, no further. By contrast, ordinary people from humble backgrounds without any such ties faced no restrictions and could rise much higher, even ascending to the position of Grand Master.

Thus, Chen Shuhua could either remain Chief Deputy Mansion Master for the rest of her life or die.

After the fifth-generation Grand Master departed, these rules loosened somewhat. The Li family began to establish connections with the Western Daoist Order and the Great Xuan Court, whose predecessor had been the Northern Daoist Order. Even so, the old convention still existed and had not yet been broken.

Since it was impossible to influence the Daoist Order’s decisions from within its upper ranks, the only option was to affect it from the outside by altering the balance of power and momentum.

Qi Xuansu withdrew his thoughts and looked through the glass window of the carriage. He asked, “What are those floating islands?”

Following Qi Xuansu’s gaze, Strauni looked up and smiled. “That’s the Upper District. Only truly important figures are allowed to live up there. It’s said that during the Empire’s most glorious era, there used to be a real floating city. Unfortunately, that city has long since fallen. These floating islands are merely crude imitations.”

The “Empire” referred to here was the great empire that once unified the Western Continent—the Roman Empire located west of the Western Sea.

Qi Xuansu said, “The core area among St. York’s five districts is called the Central District. If that’s the case, then there must also be a Lower District?”

Strauni nodded. “There is indeed a Lower District. In St. York’s history, a serious accident once occurred that caused a massive explosion. At the same time, excessive underground mining created numerous subterranean cavities. Due to these two factors, parts of the city sank into the ground and the seabed, forming an underwater city and an underground city. Together, they are known as the Lower District, corresponding respectively to the Central District on the surface and the Upper District in the sky. The Lower District preserves the most complete steam industrial system.”

Qi Xuansu said bluntly, “From what I can see so far, steam billows everywhere and smoke fills the air. I truly cannot imagine what an underground city with a complete steam industrial system would look like. Is it even a place where people can survive?”

“You’ve certainly grasped things clearly,” Strauni said with a faint smile. “But there’s no alternative. Industrial production depends on a well-developed transportation system. Outside the city, there is indeed vast land, but those places lack railways and rivers. How could the industry develop there? St. York, on the other hand, not only has the most complete railway network on the Northern New Continent, but it also sits at the mouth of a river. Both inland shipping and maritime transport are extremely developed.”

Qi Xuansu continued, “So even building factories beneath St. York—underground or under the sea—is still better than building them on the surface elsewhere.”

“That’s exactly right,” Strauni replied. “One could say St. York’s prosperity is built upon the suffering of the Lower District.”

Qi Xuansu looked at Strauni. “It seems you’re very aware of this.”

“Not just me. In fact, every councilman and bishop knows it well. In St. York, it’s a topic that cannot be avoided yet cannot easily be touched,” Strauni said with a shrug. “As the clergy would put it, this is a necessary sacrifice.”

Qi Xuansu asked again, “How long do people in the Lower District usually live?”

Strauni pondered for a moment. “I haven’t looked into the details. Perhaps 25 years? Maybe 30. In any case, most people there don’t live past 35.”

Qi Xuansu continued gazing out the window. “So that’s why large numbers of slaves are needed.”

Strauni replied, “On plantations, slaves are considered property. Here, they’re merely consumables, like coal and crude oil. When it comes to bidding, plantations always have the advantage. Slaves hold their value better there and are seen as a long-term investment, so plantation owners are willing to pay higher prices. That’s why slave traders prefer transporting slaves south.”

Qi Xuansu pointed at the steel sentinels on the street outside and asked, “Why not replace them with those steel men?”

Strauni followed his gaze. “Those are humanoid steam weapons developed by the Colt Company, code-named ‘Enforcers.’ These steel men have countless advantages, but they suffer from one drawback—the exorbitant cost. Only the city council, who uses taxpayers’ money, can afford to purchase them in large numbers.”