Chapter 18: Knowledge of the Gods

Chapter18: The Knowledge of God

The smoke cleared, and corpses littered the ground.

Every member of the Holy Blood squad stared in stunned silence, but Chen Jian wore a grim, worried expression.

The reason was simple: after this round of fighting, their ammunition had truly run dry.

He had only forty 5.8mm rounds left; Shen Yue's 7.62 ammunition was exhausted, and he kept just thirty rounds for He Shuo's 26 sniper rifle.

Together they had three grenades remaining, and each pistol still held a single magazine.

The only surplus was Lei Jie's pistol ammo—120 rounds, barely enough to count as a base.

If they encountered another large‑scale battle, their squad would be hardly better off than being unarmed.

——

But actually, there is still a difference.

After all, they still had with them a device capable of leveling a five‑kilometer radius.

Left with no choice, they could always just detonate it.

Who knows—after being reduced to ash they might find themselves back where they started, opening their eyes to see a bare‑armed figure issuing them a military greatcoat.

Though imagining that scene is a bit frightening, it’s still far better than being eaten by monsters here.

Thinking this, Chen Jian chuckled and shook his head.

Beside him, Xu Lie saw his expression, assumed he was mocking the overconfident converts, and immediately felt respect.

This is what strength looks like!

In casual conversation they had wiped out over a hundred reckless converts who even gave the Holy Blood squad headaches, frightening the city’s other remnants into hiding, yet he still felt a hint of unfinished business and even laughed.

Such a mindset would mark him as a strong‑willed warrior anywhere.

Thus, Xu Lie, somewhat obsequiously, stepped forward and leaned close to Chen Jian to say:

“Um… we’ve finished fighting—can we withdraw now?”

“Just wait a bit longer.”

Chen Jian waved his hand and said:

“Let’s first pick up the spent casings.”

“Pick up the casings?”

Xu Lie didn’t understand.

He naturally knew that firing bullets produces casings, but he had no idea what use they could have.

Even if they took them back to sell as scrap metal, they wouldn’t be worth much.

Chen Jian saw his confusion, but couldn’t be bothered to explain further.

After all, he himself didn’t know whether reloading ammunition would even work.

Others’ reloads use factory‑made powder and primers; you have none of that—even if you could assemble something, would it have any power?

All we can do is try.

They silently gathered the casings, filling a small bag to the brim.

Li Shi of the Holy Blood quartet naturally took the bag, slung it on his waist, and grinned at Chen Jian.

It was clear he had begun to regard Chen Jian and his companions as the group’s backbone.

In a world where the strong survive, strength often equals authority; even Xu Lie, who had led the Holy Blood quartet, found himself with nothing to say.

The party stepped over the corpses, preparing to head out of the city.

The time was now past four in the afternoon; the sun slanted westward, stretching the buildings’ shadows long, like the silhouette of some monster.

Chen Jian ordered He Shuo and Lei Jie to launch the drones, scouting the route ahead; only after confirming that no converts blocked the way did he give the order to press on.

The four Holy Blood members were quite curious about this, yet they felt they shouldn’t pry further.

Only after they had left the city, settled smoothly at the Holy Blood squad’s campsite, and lit a fire did Xu Lie finally bring himself to ask:

“What exactly are those mechanical birds?”

Chen Jian hesitated a moment, then replied:

“A reconnaissance device.”

“Like a hawk?”

“Yes, like a hawk.”

“Amazing.”

Xu Lie let out a long breath and continued:

“Almost all of your gear is beyond our comprehension—though your weapons I have seen something similar to in the Machine God Church.”

“This is completely different from what I imagined a strong warrior to be.”

“To be honest, it’s also nothing like what most people picture a strong warrior as.”

“Then what do you imagine a strong warrior to be like?”

Chen Jian, while sorting his remaining ammunition, asked:

“Greater speed, greater strength, a harder body, quicker reflexes—that is what the Holy Blood squad pursues.”

“Larger guns, bigger cannons, thicker armor—that is the Machine God Church’s pursuit. I have always thought that strength meant choosing one of these two paths.”

“But now it seems that isn’t the case.”

When Xu Lie finished speaking, Chen Jian burst into a silent laugh and said:

“Actually, our aspirations aren’t so different from the Machine God Church’s; we want what they want.”

“No, you don’t.”

Xu Lie firmly denied:

“I don’t know you, but I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re not after bigger or thicker; you’re after greater lethal power.”

“I don’t know how you manage it, but the power of that gun in your hand might exceed the firepower of an entire Machine God Church combat squad.”

“I dare say, if you had the capability, you might conceal world‑destroying power in a tiny pocket.”

“This is perhaps the difference between you and them—maybe you truly are God’s chosen, grasping the truth He granted.”

As he finished, Xu Lie’s expression grew wistful, and the other Holy Blood members felt the same.

Chen Jian fell silent for a moment, then said:

“We do indeed grasp certain truths, but they are not divinely bestowed.”

“Not divinely given? Well, that doesn’t matter either.”

Xu Lie shifted the topic, suddenly a bit embarrassed as he asked:

Could you take a look at this pistol for me? It never shoots straight.

I sent it to the Machine Cult; those fools claimed the gun’s machine spirit was restless, so they soaked it in some unknown liquid for days, only to make it even more rust‑covered.

So, did it get any better?

Chen Jian asked, teasing.

Obviously not; in fact, it started jamming.

As he spoke, Xu Lie handed over the pistol.

Chen Jian shook his head, took it, glanced, and in a few swift motions dismantled the whole gun into pieces.

Xu Lie blanched, yet seeing Chen Jian’s practiced motions, he felt perhaps this was the right way to handle it.

“The recoil spring lacks tension, and the feed spring is basically shot.”

“The rifling’s still fine; it probably hasn’t fired many rounds.”

“The firing pin’s broken too; this thing’s rusted to a dull blunt.”

“Find something to sharpen it—Shen Yue, hand me the dagger.”

Shen Yue passed the dagger; Chen Jian sharpened the firing pin in a couple of strokes, then added:

“But the main cause of the jam has nothing to do with what I said—you’ve loaded the ammo wrong.”

“This is a 9×19 pistol; you’ve mixed in several 9×18 rounds—you’re lucky it didn’t blow up in your face.”

“Before loading, don’t you check the length and shape of the cartridges?”

“.We all thought, if it fits, it’ll fire.”

“You all thought that?”

Chen Jian stared, astonished, as the four members of the Holy Blood Squad nodded in unison, their expressions almost naïve.

“.Never mind, Rey, give him some ammo—twelve rounds will do.”

“Sure.”

Rey counted out the counted out the cartridges while asking curiously:

“What model is this gun?”

“I don’t know.”

Chen Jian shook his head and replied:

“It looks like some knock‑off of a Beretta 8000—who cares, we don’t need it anyway.”

“That’s right.”

Chen Jian’s disdain was palpable, while Xu Lie stood there dumbfounded.

“So you’re just giving away those precious rounds??”

He took the bullets dumbly, unaware that Chen Jian was thinking, with a small caliber, a few more or less makes no difference—might as well use them as a favor.

Seeing Xu Lie’s problem solved in an instant, Xie Liu, who had been watching from the side, could no longer stay seated.

She coughed slightly, nervous, then asked:

“God‑chosen ones, can you also handle the potion business?”

(End of chapter)