Chapter 199: Rumors Everywhere

Chapter 199: Rumors Rise

Chen Jian had once asked Fuxi how long it took to produce a howitzer.

Its answer then was sixty days.

Now, however, building a small basic oxygen steel plant from scratch requires only five days.

Chen Jian was not surprised by this.

For the manufacture of a cannon pales in difficulty compared to that of a basic steel furnace.

A barrel, even with a full complement of machinery, must pass through initial rolling, electroslag remelting, forging under a ten‑tonne press, centre drilling, and precision drawing; those steps alone would have consumed three or four days even in the full‑chain industry of that era.

The subsequent heat‑treatment and straightening would have taken even longer.

Then came surface and internal precision turning, self‑tightening, inner‑wall cutting, and rifling.

How long would that require?

And that is only the barrel!

Thus, with limited and non‑specialised equipment, taking sixty days to forge a cannon is not a sign of incompetence but rather akin to cheating.

In fact, even by 2025, no more than ten nations possessed the capability to produce full‑calibre gun barrels.

Moreover, to Chen Jian’s knowledge, any country that had not mastered barrel‑making by 1800 still had not learned it by 2025, two centuries later.

Those that could manufacture relied on imported technology and production lines.

Even twenty years hence, in an era of ever‑tightening technological monopoly, Chen Jian was certain they would never acquire the know‑how.

Hence Fuxi’s time estimate was entirely reasonable.

——

Nevertheless, what truly occupied Chen Jian was the five‑day figure.

If a modest basic‑oxygen steel plant could be erected in five days, the Huaxia army could secure a steady stream of high‑grade steel without ever mining ore, merely by recycling scrap.

Coupled with the secondary smelting and casting gear in the smart workshop, they would possess the foundation for producing specialty steels and exotic alloys.

When that day arrives, advancing further along the industrialisation path—or bypassing the basics altogether to forge a dedicated weapons line—will become far easier.

Standing outside the 011 complex, watching set after set of machinery roll out and pile upon the already‑cleared ground, Chen Jian felt a surge of emotion.

The first step of industrialisation had finally been taken.

But unlike him, Lei Jie was preoccupied with technical minutiae.

“​A steel furnace alone is insufficient; we need a supporting industry,”

“According to Fuxi’s plan, this rudimentary steelworks will still rely chiefly on coal and charcoal for fuel, yet coal’s calorific value is low and charcoal is hard to procure.”

“We must accelerate the coking of coal—after all, weren’t a dozen refugees just arrived? Assign them the task; it gives them work as well.”

When Lei Jie finished, Chen Jian nodded pensively and said:

“​Makes sense.”

“I recall many ways to coke coal; the primitive method doesn’t seem hard, does it?”

“​Not difficult.”

Lei Jie replied:

“​If we use the open‑air method, we heap the coal, set straw atop it alight, and in four or five days we’ll have coke.”

“The problem is that this technique wastes almost all the chemical feedstock contained in the tar.”

“​Tar is a treasure; it forms the basis of the chemical industry we intend to build later.”

“​Therefore a more economical route is to construct a relatively simple yet functionally complete Otto‑type coke oven.”

“​Such ovens were common before liberation; they’re not cutting‑edge, but they’ll do the job.”

“​Once we survive the toughest phase, we can remodel and expand into a modern coking plant.”

“​Understood.”

Chen Jian nodded again and asked:

“What will those refugees be tasked with? Brick‑making?”

“​Exactly, firing refractory bricks—nothing difficult. With Fuxi’s guidance and a few key machines, a dozen workers can run a medium‑size brick kiln.”

“.​Are we supposed to be black‑brick factory owners? Never mind, let’s just do it.”

Chen Jian gave a decisive nod, then shifted the topic:

“You’ll oversee the later technical matters and the climb up the tech‑tree, but these next few days you must carve out time to help me settle the Jinling City issue first.”

“​Got any ideas?”

Lei Jie asked curiously.

“​Yes.”

Chen Jian nodded and replied:

“I intend to employ the drone stored in 095.”

“That drone is indeed fitting.”

Lei Jie nodded:

“Its design is sci‑fi, its size ample, its speed swift; even a mere fly‑by would dazzle the followers of the Mechanical Cult.”

“But what exactly do you plan? Rig a hoist to lift Zhang Tao and drop him from the sky?”

“He isn’t a Saint‑Blood; such a drop would surely kill him, wouldn’t it?”

“.​You know, at first I really thought that.”

Chen Jian chuckled and answered:

“But upon reflection, I found the scheme overly flamboyant.”

“​Even if he survived a high‑altitude fall, it would not solve our core problem.”

“You see, we must first shatter Jin City’s prestige, then erect Zhang Tao’s.”

“Ideally, a single drone could address both.”

“​Thus I plan to use the drone to eliminate Jin City, then employ the same drone to endorse Zhang Tao.”

“​Launch a missile at Jin City?”

Lei Jie exclaimed:

“​Is that not too blunt and brutal?”

“​Indeed!”

Chen Jian nodded again.

“​Because it is so crude, it lacks any ‘divinity.’”

“​I need you to do something for me.”

Take a cruise missile and convert it into a non‑explosive kinetic weapon.

Or, to be blunt, I want you to thrust a long spear from the unseen heights above, piercing Jin Cheng with unerring precision.

I want everyone to witness Jin Cheng’s “divine retribution” in vivid detail, and to leave him there, like a condemned sinner, for all to see.

Damn, that’s getting a bit… brutal.

Lei Jie drew a sharp breath of cold air, pondered briefly, then replied:

But it’s not impossible.

A high‑altitude drop, using lightweight aluminum‑titanium alloy as the core—modifying a cruise missile shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll give it a try.

Yet the problem is, killing alone isn’t enough.

A mysterious death could easily be seized upon by zealots as a malicious assassination.

That would be detrimental to our subsequent plans.

That, then, is what He Shuo intends to do.

Chen Jian gave a cryptic smile and continued:

I suspect he’s already set the wheels in motion.

Meanwhile, within Jinling City.

As Chen Jian had foreseen, once the “subversion mission” was confirmed, He Shuo wasted no time—he launched his scheme in the blink of an eye.

Yet he did not seek out Zhang Tao directly to discuss details; instead, he opted for a subtler approach, letting rumors spread silently.

The first thing he did was employ drone reconnaissance to pinpoint Zhang Tao’s foothold in the city.

Then, under the cover of night, he dispatched unmanned combat robots to silently shift every mech “statue” in the city. When the night‑patrolling Guard Brigade spotted the displaced figures, they were stunned to see them all turned toward a single direction, a few even having slipped from their plinths into a kneeling posture.

The bizarre tableau instantly drew the Guard’s attention, but when they tried to restore the statues, the sheer mass of each made it impossible for ordinary hands to move them.

So at dawn the next day, every passerby on the streets witnessed the scene.

Curious crowds gathered around the statues, murmuring theories about the cause of their movement.

Some claimed it was the revival of the machine spirit.

Others insisted the Mechanical Cult had moved them of its own accord.

Yet the majority dismissed it as a bored prank by some over‑powered Holy Blooded.

Though the Holy Blooded vehemently denied it, few took the matter seriously.

After all, they were merely a handful of statues—what harm could their sudden disappearance cause?

In recent days, Jinling’s citizens had already witnessed countless wondrous machines.

Since the Sacred Eight‑One had manifested, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Public opinion appeared not to follow He Shuo’s expected trajectory, yet in truth it was merely a tiny step in his grand design.

He sat in his manor, patiently awaiting more “celestial omens” to be uncovered by Jinling’s folk.

At seven in the morning, a second report arrived.

Someone reported a strange pattern etched in the overgrown grass beyond the city’s rim.

The design, formed by fallen stalks, vaguely resembled a fang wreathed in flame.

No one knew its meaning; what intrigued them more was its origin.

It had materialized overnight.

By human effort alone, such a massive figure—visible even from the city’s highest points—could not be produced in such a brief span.

In an instant, the whole city buzzed, and idle merchants even left the walls to examine the design up close.

Their conclusions, however, remained ambiguous.

“This could not have been carved by human hands; the grass shows no cuts, only the impression of something pressing down from above.”

The merchant said.

That remark made the city’s residents begin to waver.

Pressed down from above?

A force descending from the heavens?

So what lies in the sky?

It could only be a deity.

For the first time, the common folk linked the “phenomenon” with a god, and the city’s atmosphere began to shift subtly.

Yet they still did not grasp its precise meaning; most assumed it was a sign that, after Sacred Eight‑One’s salvation of Jinling, new blessings were about to descend.

He Shuo would not let such sentiment ferment unchecked.

Before any action, he had already anticipated the public’s reaction.

So at eight o’clock, he detonated the third pre‑planted covert charge.

A full‑spectrum electromagnetic pulse kicked in, and every merchant, mercenary, and civilian tuning the radios for contact heard the same indistinct voice.

“Atonement. Atonement.”

The ethereal electronic tone was beyond any human’s capacity, and the repeated chant of “atonement” drove the city’s mood to an unprecedented extreme.

Atonement?

Atonement for what?

Who shall atone?

To whom?

Suspicion, panic, and dread spread swiftly; everyone speculated about the source, and eventually converged on a single, seemingly logical answer.

The machine spirit was awakening.

Sacred Trinity was speaking through the spirit’s mouth, delivering its oracle to the faithful.

Then the question became crystal clear.

Someone must atone.

Who, then, is that person?

Who erred and angered the Sacred Trinity?

No one dared to voice the answer, yet in glances and hushed whispers the truth spread like wildfire.

The loss of over ten Holy Chapel Guard units, the misunderstanding and clash with “Sacred Eight‑One” under the same God of Ten Thousand Machines, the near‑loss of Jinling, and the feeble church’s impotence over Huadu.

*Click*.

Is this a slide one can touch?

The citizens of Jinling fell silent as moths, and only twelve hours had passed since He Shuo’s first covert charge detonated.

He would not cease his machinations there.

The emblem representing the Holy Trinity, hung high upon the Mechanical Cult's cathedral, crashed down with a thunderous roar at high noon, when the sun blazed at its fiercest.

The ground was gouged into a massive crater, and the emblem lay shattered into fragments.

The villagers who witnessed the scene fell silent, as if turned to stone, for several long minutes.

They did not know that it was He Shuo's laser close‑range defense system, mounted on his Nezha exoskeleton, which had taken hours to cut through; they only knew that the Holy Trinity's emblem had fallen.

As for why.

Perhaps only the Holy Trinity itself could answer.

In that instant, everyone cemented the answer that lingered in their hearts.

Rumors spread through the city like a violent storm, and the Church barely had time to react.

By the time they dispatched the cathedral's guard regiment to the streets to suppress the civilians spreading the rumors, it was already too late.

It was time to unleash the most powerful prelude.

That night, when Colonel Zhang Tao of the Fifteenth Guard Regiment personally led his troops onto the streets to quell the civilians and maintain order, a sudden beam of light descended from the heavens, enveloping him.

All eyes turned upward, and the column of light that pierced the clouds vanished in an instant

in a flash.

And the sky was empty.

It seemed a mere coincidence.

Yet someone in the crowd shouted the crucial clue.

"The armor of the Holy Trinity—its direction of reverence is—"

The speaker did not finish the sentence, but that fragment was enough.

Zhang Tao stood there, gaping in disbelief.

At that moment, every gaze in the city converged upon him.

He knew he could stay there no longer.

The situation had deteriorated dramatically.

And his own life

hung by a thread!

(End of Chapter)