As the echoes of the Patriarch’s announcement faded, the corporate machinery kicked into gear. The Board of Directors, previously a chaotic mess of infighting, now moved with terrifying unity.

Elder Jin Jue stepped forward first, radiating the cold aura of the Law Enforcement Hall. “The Board stands unanimous. Sun Yi has full executive authority. Any dissent will be treated as treason against the sect.”

Operations, External Affairs, Transmission, and Miscellaneous Arts followed suit. Each Elder stepped up, pledged allegiance to the new CEO, and threatened the workforce with severe bodily harm if they failed to comply. It was a masterclass in top-down alignment.

Sun Yi watched from the podium, satisfied. The Board is terrified of losing their golden parachutes. Good. Fear is an excellent motivator for middle management.

Down in the plaza, the rumor mill was overheating. The disciples, still reeling from the announcement, were trying to rationalize the impossible.

“Who is he?” an Inner Disciple whispered, eyeing Sun Yi’s calm demeanor. “He must be a hidden expert. You don’t get five Golden Core Elders to bend the knee unless you can crush them.”

“Definitely,” another agreed. “Look at him. He’s suppressing his aura. He’s probably a disguised Nascent Soul monster playing games with us.”

At the back of the crowd, the mood was… different.

A small group of Miscellaneous Disciples—Sun Yi’s former roommates and creditors—were sweating profusely.

“Hey,” one whispered, his face pale. “Remember that ten spirit stones Sun Yi borrowed last week? I think… I think I just donated them to the sect. Permanently.”

Manager Wang, Sun Yi’s direct supervisor, looked like he was about to have a stroke. He had spent the last three years assigning Sun Yi the worst latrine-cleaning duties on the mountain. I’m dead, Wang thought, his knees knocking together. I’m actually going to be executed.

Patriarch Qingxuan raised a hand, silencing the murmurs.

“The CEO will now address the shareholders.”

Sun Yi stepped to the edge of the platform. He didn’t use a projection array; he just leaned into the silence, channeling the energy of every student council president and tech startup founder he had ever seen.

“Hi everyone. I’m Sun Yi.”

He paused, letting the name sink in.

“Most of you are wondering who I am. Some of you are making wild guesses about my cultivation. Let me clarify the rumors.”

He smiled, a self-deprecating expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I am a Miscellaneous Disciple. My cultivation is Qi Refining level three. Statistically, I am weaker than 95% of the people in this plaza.”

The silence shattered. A collective gasp tore through the crowd. Eyes bulged. Jaws dropped. The “hidden expert” theory evaporated, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. A Qi Refining grunt? Running the sect?

Sun Yi let the noise wash over him for a moment before raising a hand.

“Don’t be jealous,” he cut in, his voice hardening. “You see the title. You see the power. But do you see the liability?”

He gestured to the Patriarch.

“I have signed a contract with the Board. One year. I have one year to turn this bankrupt, failing sect into a market leader. If I fail? I pay with my life. A literal death clause.”

He scanned the crowd, meeting the eyes of the arrogant Inner Disciples.

“I put my head on the chopping block to save this company. Would any of you dare to take that deal? To bet your life against a balance sheet?”

The grumbling died down. The Inner Disciples looked away. They wanted power, sure, but they didn’t want responsibility. Especially not lethal responsibility.

“I didn’t think so,” Sun Yi said coolly. “So, since I’m the one taking the risk, I’m the one making the rules. We are implementing a comprehensive restructuring. Do not test my patience. I don’t have time for office politics.”

He turned to the Patriarch. “Chairman, please unveil the new Corporate Policy.”

Qingxuan nodded. His aura exploded outward, a terrifying wave of Golden Core pressure that forced the weaker disciples to their knees. He reached into the empty air, his Qi forming a massive, spectral hand that ripped a thirty-foot boulder from the mountain face.

CRUNCH.

The rock compressed, reshaped, and slammed into the earth at the edge of the plaza, forming a massive, monolithic stele. With a flicker of his finger, nine beams of sword-light danced across the stone, carving text deep into the granite.

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF QINGYUN

The disciples squinted at the fresh carvings. As they read the new rules, faces paled. This wasn’t just a policy update; it was a regime change.

Sun Yi pointed at the monolith. “These are non-negotiable. Memorize them. But policy is nothing without enforcement.”

He pulled a list from his sleeve.

“Jin Lun. Xu Bo. Zhang Dahai. Liu Wen. Luo Tao. Step forward.”

Five Foundation Establishment cultivators—Deputy Hall Masters of the Law Enforcement Hall—stiffened. They exchanged nervous glances but, under the pressure of the Patriarch’s gaze, slowly walked to the front.

These were the bullies. The corrupt middle managers who had terrorized the lower ranks for years. They glared at Sun Yi, their cultivation bases far stripping his, radiating menace.

Sun Yi didn’t blink. He looked at them like they were bugs in the code.

“Audit complete,” Sun Yi announced, his voice echoing across the plaza. “Findings: Gross misconduct. Embezzlement. Abuse of power.”

He looked down at the five men.

“Effective immediately, you are terminated from your positions. You will serve a 30-day sentence of the Soul Refining Penalty.”

The five men turned grey. The Soul Refining Penalty was torture—pure, agonizing spiritual pain used for traitors. Thirty days was enough to break a mind.

“Furthermore,” Sun Yi continued, relentless. “You will undergo asset forfeiture. You will repay every spirit stone you extorted from the disciples, with interest. If you’re liquid, sell your artifacts. If you’re broke, take a loan. I don’t care how you do it, but you will make the victims whole.”

The plaza erupted. Not with shock this time, but with a roar of approval. For years, these five had been untouchable tyrants. Now, the new CEO was publicly flaying them.

“Justice,” Sun Yi thought, watching the hope return to the eyes of the Miscellaneous Disciples, “is just good PR.”