Chapter 202: Eat Noodles? Eat Crap Noodles

Chapter 202: Eating Powder? Eating a Hair’s‑worth of Powder

On the other side, within the manor.

He Shuo, his expression cold, finished perusing the freshly gathered intelligence, set his PDA aside, and, unable to restrain a sigh, said:

“That move is indeed ruthless.”

“You want us to prove how many bowls of powder we’ve eaten? Should we cut open our bellies and show you?”

“Sure enough, splashing dirty water is a crude, blunt tactic in any age.”

Hearing him, Zeng Yi chimed in from beside him:

“Their reaction speed is truly swift; the moment the anomaly appeared they already drafted a plan.”

“In just a single day they managed to bring that plan to this level of execution.”

“One could say their capability in this regard is quite formidable.”

He Shuo nodded, remaining silent for the moment.

It must be admitted, even from an adversarial stance, that their minds are remarkably clear.

In such a short span they decided on “binding,” pinpointed the pain point, and struck from the angle of “unrighteousness”—almost as if they had pierced the very weak spot of our own scheme.

And the remark, “They understand machinery but not faith.”

Objectively, there is little to fault there.

What we comprehend is our own belief, which is certainly not yours.

No wonder the Mechanical Cult has endured for so many years; indoctrinating through religion is truly their forte.

He Shuo furrowed his brow, pondered briefly, then spoke:

“We can no longer tarry, allowing events to spiral unchecked.”

“Time is already scarce; the longer we wait, the greater their odds of victory.”

“These religious zealots will not calm without cause; the longer we delay, the more their tempers will flare.”

“Once a certain threshold is crossed, even if the Mechanical Sanctuary does nothing, the whole city of Jinling will descend into chaos from some inexplicable emotion.”

“That is certainly not the outcome we desire.”

“Worse still, they know we dread that, which is why they press us with such efficiency and speed.”

“We must advance our plan ahead of schedule.”

As he spoke, He Shuo lifted his PDA once more.

This time, however, he opened a high‑altitude map of the entire city of Jinling.

“The main body of the Great Library lies buried underground; our weapons struggle to penetrate it, and even if they could, it would contradict our ‘Heaven’s Wrath’ design.”

“Thus we must devise a way to force Jin Cheng out of the Great Library.”

“If we can make him appear publicly, to expose himself before the populace, that would be ideal.”

“Should that prove impossible, we must contemplate a more extreme course, employing non‑peaceful means to drive him from his shelter.”

“Poison gas, perhaps?”

Zeng Yi interjected with a question, while He Shuo shook his head and replied:

“The finer points can be discussed later.”

“For now, the priority is to solve the problem of his attacks once he is exposed.”

“The Great Library sits within the Mechanical Sanctuary’s precincts, about 150 meters from the sanctuary’s main structure, yet only 60 meters of that stretch is unshielded.”

“Surrounding edifices average roughly twelve meters in height, while the front façade of the sanctuary towers near thirty meters.”

“According to the captain’s plan, if we launch an assault from that distance, our effective attack arc is about one hundred and ten degrees.”

“That angle is fairly optimal, but the issue is that once Jin Cheng leaves the Great Library he will instantly seek new cover.”

“By calculating the time lag, based on her top sprint speed, I estimate we have a six‑to‑seven‑second window for the strike.”

“In other words, we must employ a diving, top‑down assault, and the timing must be calculated with razor precision.”

“Fuxi!”

He Shuo called out suddenly, and Fuxi responded at once:

“I’m here.”

“Flight trajectory has been plotted; weapon data is pending update, currently projected from the design schema.”

“From launch to impact requires three point five seconds, with a tolerance of plus or minus one point two seconds.”

“Trajectory diagram has been synced to the PDA; please review.”

“Very well.”

He Shuo exhaled a long breath.

This is the virtue of strong artificial intelligence; had a handful of humans performed the calculations and control themselves, who knows how much time and effort would be squandered on trial and error.

Now, Fuxi needs only a single second to accomplish everything they would have had to labor over.

“Now the attack issue is resolved.”

“The final hurdle is how to force him out of the third level of the Great Library.”

With that, He Shuo opened the photographs taken by a hummingbird‑type drone, which, after Fuxi’s processing, had been rendered into a high‑precision three‑dimensional model of the interior space.

He dragged the model across his PDA screen, studied it closely, and said:

“From the images, the third tier of the Great Library appears to have no auxiliary passages; ingress and egress are limited to the main corridor.”

“Yet coaxing him out will not be so simple.”

“The Mechanical Cult possesses gas masks; they employed them during the assault on the Jinling ruins.”

“If we were to unleash poison gas outright, they would inevitably don their masks or other protective gear.”

“That alone will not compel him to abandon the third level; indeed, should his faith be steadfast enough, he would rather perish within the Library than take a single step outward.”

“He knows he cannot die before his followers.”

“That is a troublesome knot.”

“Perhaps not.”

Zeng Yi suddenly spoke:

“Hallucinogenic.”

“Hallucinogenic?”

He Shuo stared, momentarily stunned, while Zeng Yi continued:

“The fungal carpet within the Jinling ruins has not fully receded; beyond it lie extensive mats of fungus and umbrella‑shaped mushroom forests.”

“We could extract the toxins therein and disperse them near the Mechanical Cult’s sanctuary; the effect would reach not only the pontiff Jin Cheng himself but also the core hierarchy—bishops, archbishops, the guard regiment, and the elite troops.”

“If they were all overwhelmed by the hallucinogenic gas, they would, like us before, fall into a state of terror.”

“I believe that no one can remain in a dark underground space without trying to seek help from the outside.”

“Perfect.”

He Shuo let out a long breath, sighing as he spoke:

“The idea of hallucinogenic gas is excellent; if we could in one stroke drag those lofty bishops down as well, it would become much easier to control the Mechanical Cult thereafter.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so capable at this.”

“If it were Xie Liu, she would probably be even more adept.”

Zeng Yi answered with a smile, while He Shuo nodded and continued:

“All good.”

“Regardless, the plan is now essentially complete.”

“Notify Zhang Tao and have him prepare.”

“The gas preparation won’t take much time; once we issue the attack order, he must immediately cooperate with our operation.”

“He must take the initiative to strike, to reach the Mechanical Cathedral of the Mechanical Cult.”

“Give him a banner: Purge the Court!”

“And eat the powder, eat the damn powder!”

Twelve hours later, at 11 a.m.

Zhang Tao had not slept all night, but not because of the noisy voices nearby or the occasional gunshots. Though the rioting believers each seemed eager to tear themselves out and press before the saint to confess their sins, Zhang Tao knew that in front of the overwhelming firepower of “Supreme Saint Eight‑One” and the nearly two hundred Guard Brigade soldiers who were forever loyal to him, they would never act foolishly.

Therefore, he was not at all concerned for his own safety.

What truly kept him anxious, sleepless with tension, was the small electronic screen in his hand that glowed constantly.

And the stream of messages it received from the Huaxia Army.

At 00:05, he received the first message.

Its content was simple, just a few large characters.

“The plan has been drafted; the Divine Punishment Plan is scheduled to be executed around 11:30 today.”

From the moment he saw that message, Zhang Tao could not sleep.

Then, more information arrived, one after another.

00:45, “Drone ready, test flight completed.”

00:50, “Missile test passed.”

01:40, “Hallucinogen extraction completed, yield estimated.”

04:50, “Delivery equipment ready, drone has reached the drop zone.”

05:20, “First reconnaissance round finished, position locked.”

07:07, “Combatants assembled, Zhang Tao, gather a reliable team.”

07:12, this one he sent himself.

“The Fifteenth Guard Brigade has assembled; I am ready to move at any moment.”

Immediately after, at 08:20, “Hallucinogenic gas has been loaded; continuous release is expected to begin in two hours.”

10:20, “Gas release completed, drone on standby.”

10:50, “The enemy has begun showing poisoning reactions; an operation is expected to commence within twenty minutes.”

——

At this moment, the time was 11:05.

The five minutes remaining were the last of the “twenty minutes” set by the Huaxia Army.

Zhang Tao knew what he had to do.

He would wait for the religious personnel and the doctrinal guards around the Mechanical Cathedral, who, after being plunged into fear‑inducing hallucinations by the colorless, odorless gas, fell into chaos; then he would lead the unaffected Guard Brigade and the combat machines left in Jinling City belonging to the Huaxia Army, surge forward in a single push, eliminate all the deranged clergy, “rescue” the saintly Golden City, and await the judgment of the Huaxia Army.

This should have been a simple, perfect plan.

By following it step by step, he could not only clear all suspicion of being an “unjust one,” but also “handily” aid the Huaxia Army in delivering its final judgment—a task that would be effortless.

Yet Zhang Tao still felt a profound terror.

Not because of the mission itself, but because of the astonishing precision and efficiency the Huaxia Army displayed in this operation.

In just one night they had prepared everything.

In a single night they could alter the fate of an entire city.

If he were to do it himself, how long would it take?

Five years? Ten years?

Compared with his own Mechanical Cult, these people seemed more like cold, merciless machines.

The clock had now reached 11:09; Zhang Tao exhaled deeply, rose to his feet, and donned the gas mask he had prepared long ago.

He pushed open the door and stepped out; two hundred soldiers of his loyal Guard Brigade were already lined up in perfect order.

They did not know what they were about to do, but at this moment they had all noticed the chaos erupting near the Mechanical Cathedral of the Mechanical Cult.

Gunfire and artillery roared incessantly, mingled with fearful howls and

wails.

The believers were frightened back by the abnormal sounds, daring not to investigate, while the city’s garrison troops repeatedly received chaotic orders and eventually withdrew beyond Jinling City.

Now, the only force that could end the turmoil there was the small squad in his own hands.

And he was about to set out himself.

The numbers on the screen jumped past the final second, and at that instant Zhang Tao received the latest command.

It consisted of only two simple words.

“Attack!”

“Attack!”

Zhang Tao shouted, and all the Guard Brigade soldiers sprang into action at once.

Simultaneously, the drones hovering in the sky and the combat machines on the ground rushed toward their position, racing toward the cathedral.

“Bang bang bang bang—”

Gunfire crackled above Zhang Tao’s head as several tracer‑filled fire lines swept across the ground before the cathedral.

There, priests and bishops driven mad by the gas fell like reaped wheat, their blood instantly soaking the earth.

This sudden onslaught drove the already frenzied Imperial Guard into even greater madness; they raised their weapons and began firing wildly at every moving target before them.

Explosives continuously detonated in front of the cathedral, and some even hurled grenades toward the building’s base, where civilians had no time to flee.

“Boom!”

A massive explosion roared, and at that moment the devout believers of Jinling City finally felt

terror.

With no time to rescue the fallen wounded, everyone scattered in a chaotic rush.

The frantic footsteps drove into many slower‑reacting residents, but just as those people were about to be trampled by the newcomers, a wall of iron surged upstream.

Zhang Tao’s elite guard regiment halted the scattering crowd, guiding them onto a broader avenue.

Zhang Tao himself lifted a fallen civilian, then, with solemn tone, shouted:

“the sanctuary has been corrupted by heresy; I will lead a force to rescue the saint from peril!”

“I am no villain.”

“I am the Arbiter!”

“Advance!”

“Advance!”

Two hundred guards answered in unison, and the next heartbeat the iron wall surged forward with an unstoppable bearing.

Shielded by unmanned combat machines, any foe that collided with that wall was instantly reduced to dust.

The acrid smell of gunpowder dispersed the waning toxic haze in the air, while heavy‑caliber machine guns pierced the Imperial Guard’s thick armor.

The shattered limbs were trampled beneath the soldiers of the Fifteenth Guard, and the chaos spilling from the sanctuary was swiftly confined to a minuscule radius.

The populace cheered, celebrating the arrival of the loyal Arbiter, yet Zhang Tao’s steps did not falter.

He knew his aim was not the sanctuary.

The Great Library!

The false saint still lingered there.

If he had not burst from the underground of his own accord, then he would have to descend beneath, forcefully dragging the impostor out.

It was not the optimal choice.

Yet it was a necessity he could not refuse.

Zhang Tao set his stride toward the location of the Great Library.

At that very moment, a stranger’s voice crackled through his radio:

“Jin Cheng is fleeing the Great Library.”

“Target Drone 17, prepare to engage! Attack will commence in 16 seconds! Dynamic margin adjustment: 1.2 seconds!”

The next second, a massive explosion roared overhead.

Immediately after, a colossal mass, bearing a fierce gale, swept past in a flash!

(End of Chapter)