After declaring vengeance on the Pandora Galaxy, the empire's planetary factories roared 24/7. Resources within a 200 million light-year diameter were refined. My mobile smelting plant idea paid off—20,000 smelting warships fed our military industry with raw materials. Forty thousand transport warships shuttled non-stop between planetary factories, demanding massive manpower. Despite high mechanization, key posts needed human oversight. Even smart computers couldn't handle irrational issues. Fox-folk, unsuited for combat due to their slight builds, excelled in these computer-controlled roles. They weren't fighters but were born commanders—witty, adaptable, quick to embrace new tech, proving the "sly fox" adage. Bear, ox, and leopard-folk, meanwhile, were fit only for melee troops, and they loved it. A few elite joined legion armament teams. In battle, their beastly roars—100% them—made you think you'd stumbled into a primal forest surrounded by wild animals. Thus, melee teams earned the nickname "Beast Brigade," a badge of honor. Back on their planets, they'd boast, "We're Beast Brigade, roar!"
Every empire citizen worked, except those in recovery. With our medical and martial arts advancements, no one was disabled or unfit. As long as you had breath, you thrived. In six years, no one looked old. Martial progress kept appearances at 30–40 years old. Only electronic ID cards revealed true ages. Beards were a clue, but not foolproof—some youths loved them. Once, in a restaurant, a 20-something "middle-aged" man slapped a bearded 30-something, yelling, "All you do is play! Even your mom's stronger!" Mediators learned it was a young father scolding his lazy "older" son.
With appearances indistinguishable, plus privacy laws and free marriage policies, hilarious mix-ups arose. Couples fell hard, only to find their beloved was grandparent-aged. Early on, some clung to old taboos, so for stability, I honored the first couple with a 60-year age gap. Now, true love trumped all, no qualms. Earth's early internet had a saying: "On the web, nobody knows you're a dog." Here, it's: "That sexy lady might be your grandma."
Government policies fueled our military-industrial might. In wartime, middle schoolers studied five hours, then worked two in nearby factories, earning pay. Some might cry "child labor," but this ain't Earth. Our labor laws assigned age-appropriate tasks based on ability, unlike Earth's one-size-fits-all approach. Students gained knowledge, experience, and pay, learning life's value through effort and creation. Earth's systems pale—Chinese PhDs often flounder socially, all theory, no practice. I doubt young lecturers love teaching, scorning wealth. Our measures, passed by government and corporate leaders, ensured endless warships and trained warriors with raw materials and equipment. If China adopted this, 1.5 billion people would yield 1.4 billion soldiers and workers—a terrifying number I envy. Our 300 million-plus population, boosted by Earth's "talent raids," lags behind.
A year after founding the empire, I saw our population shortage. Initial orphan adoptions weren't enough—too slow for rapid growth and talent needs. After kidnapping scientists who then loved empire life, I hatched a better plan: schools. Leveraging our corporate and underworld networks, we built global schools, welcoming poor students. Graduates came to the empire; willing parents were vetted and joined. Spy-proof mind-readers—harsh but necessary—scanned them, with data deleted post-check. Graduates, thrilled, brought families, like "one ascends, all rise." These "kidnapped" talents drove progress, a scientist's paradise free from family worries, fueling practical tech for troops and civilians. Lead them in, and they soar.
Today was the biannual state-of-the-empire report. I delegate tasks, but these meetings let me steer macro-level control. Cosmic civilizations face constant threats; a strong empire is vital. Economically, no private firms exist—state control reigns. Survival and racial continuity are priority one. Personal wealth buys fun or lazy gadgets but lacks real value. Citizens can swap e-coins for Earth dollars via our group, shopping wildly, but that's no lure for our advanced society. Seventy percent of earnings fund the military; the rest buys Earth materials and rewards extra labor.
Picture the empire as a family under alien threat: government as parents, citizens as kids. Parents provide essentials, ensuring no hunger and shielding kids. Kids study skills, growing to fight alongside parents. Parents' money is for kids, like empire wages letting citizens buy trinkets. Simple, despite human complexity. At a civilization's peak, unity trumps all. Example: two feuding brothers or two loving ones—attack one, and both pummel you. Feuding brothers pause to unite; loving ones need no pause. Earth governments draft soldiers to face enemies alone; our government coordinates, uniting all to fight. This mindset and system create our economic might.
Labor departments reported half-year plans, especially the last three months. The military industry detailed production: 50 super interstellar factories were built inside hollowed-out dead stars across four void stone zones. Over 100,000 small and medium warships were phased out for reservist training and planetary defense. Legions reequipped, each targeting 60,000 wartime warships, with a 1:2 large-to-mega ratio. Dragon Armor hit 60 million sets, one per legion soldier. Demon-God Armaments reached 10 million units. Beyond standard allocations, 60,000 extra mega-warships were built for war losses, stored in six reserve depots.
Something nagged me. That's emergency mobilization-level production—too much. Wait, where'd all the 0001 metal come from? "Did you use up all the rare metal? Even then, it's not enough," I asked, eyeing Cohen.
"We ran dry on demon realm, but building Black Dragon Star's base, we found 0001 metal in abundance. Probing White Dragon Star—same deal. We could outfit every citizen with 100 sets. I didn't overproduce; our lab's designing a secret weapon needing tons of it," Cohen teased, pausing for effect. This guy.
"Fine, spill it," Cohen sighed under our glares. "Ever heard of a space fortress?" Blank stares followed. Without his weapon contributions, we'd have torn him apart. "I named it that. Japan had some cartoon 'sky fortress,' same vibe." Too much anime, Cohen.
"Our fortress is city-sized—150 km wide, 300 km long, 3 km high, two layers. Lower layer parks 15,000 mega-warships; upper layer has living quarters, neighborhoods, and entertainment to ease long interstellar trips. In emergencies, rapid channels prep troops in two minutes. It's a super warship with unmatched defense and firepower, solving resupply issues." No kidding, a city needs no supply. Used to his bombast, I wasn't stunned like the gaping department heads and generals.
"Cohen, it's great, but the materials and cost? Our metal stock can't support it," I said.
"Roughly 100 legions' worth," Cohen admitted reluctantly. "Here's the model demo."
The demo screamed game-changer—a mobile fortress dominating cosmic wars. "If full-size is too big, scale down to a quarter—37.5 km wide, 75 km long, 1.5 km high. Use large warships, not mega ones. No need for overkill. Even then, materials might be tight."
Cohen perked up. Smaller, but doable. He'd designed for mega-warships, but this worked. "No issue—we can build it in four months." Legion commanders eyed it, itching to test-drive. Looks promising.
"We can set up smelting plants in the Milky Way. Earth's not spacefaring yet, so we'll build at their galaxy's edge, undetected. That solves materials," I said. Earth's mineral output couldn't sustain one legion. "Build more smelting and transport warships. Machines don't wait."
"Majesty, our interstellar department found a habitable planet east-northeast of the Twin Stars and another due west of Yanhuang Star, both at the system's apex," the department reported. Four habitable planets in a year—ministers buzzed. Eight habitable planets now.
"Well done. Name the Twin Stars' planet Silver Dragon Star, the other Gold Dragon Star, for Gold and Silver Legions to garrison. After legions scout, send engineers to build one city per planet. Expand as population grows." Along and Ah Hu beamed—their legions had been stuck at spaceports.
"I'll check Silver Dragon Star. Twin Stars' high rare metal content suggests more 0001 and high-energy crystals," Cohen said excitedly.
"If there's nothing else, we're done." My words barely landed before Along and Ah Hu summoned armaments and zoomed off. Eager beavers.
Reader's Corner: Yo, readers, Feitian's war machine is revving! Will the space fortress tip the scales against Pandora, or drain the empire's resources? Can Silver Dragon Star's metals fuel a cosmic edge? Drop your war prep theories in the comments—let's forge this galactic showdown!