The primary monitoring chamber deep within the Radiant Fist Sect headquarters wasn't opulent. Polished synth-steel walls reflected the harsh, utilitarian glow of data screens. The sound of aging servers and overworked filtration units echoed within. The Sect banner hung behind the main command console, a clenched fist radiating golden light, looked slightly faded as its threads showed wear.
Sect Master Guan of the Radiant Fist Sect stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his stern face curled with lines of worry that seemed deeper than usual.
Before him, holographic displays flickered with security feeds, internal financial summaries, and the all-important Mandate Index tracker side by side with their stock market price.
Currently, the Mandate Index hovered at a precarious 38.4, lower than desired, which reflected their recent struggles regarding the perception of the public. It was stable, at least. Or so he'd hoped it to be.
