Chapter 384: Corruption

Chapter 384: Corruption

When the order was issued, Yu Qian’s volunteer company sprang into action.

Standing at the makeshift command post, Yu Qian’s expression was cold and resolute.

And yet, a hint of sarcasm lingered in his gaze.

He still could not fathom why Guo Xu believed he could ‘persuade’ the Guardians of Wanzhou City through negotiation.

What a joke?

Do these people really intend to relinquish the power they clutch?

Guo Xu, have you been in the Imperial Guard so long that you’ve forgotten how the Mechanical Cult is organized?

If you ask them to cede authority, they’d probably rather torch the city outright.

The comms crackled with reports from every combat unit, and the distant gunfire echoing from Wanzhou shattered Yu Qian’s last hope for a peaceful handover.

He drew a deep breath, his eyes sweeping over the troops taking their positions.

Moments later, he spoke his command:

‘Fire the artillery!’

‘Three rapid salvos!’

At his word, the artillery crews—still far from seasoned—hurried into action.

A hodgepodge of 107mm guns, 201mm mortars, and 152mm howitzers lined up; the gunners, a little flustered, loaded shells, tweaked settings, and, guided by drones and the battle‑cran system, aimed at distant Wanzhou.

Their speed was anything but swift.

Yet, even so, compared with the Guardians in Wanzhou—who, despite spotting the Huaxia forces, lumbered on, trying to ‘please the machine souls’—their pace was astonishingly quick.

Through his telescope, Yu Qian could not help but smile.

At two kilometers, did those Guardians truly believe their crude, antiquated smoothbore cannons could stand a chance against the Huaxia?

Though his volunteer company lacked the full‑scale artillery of assault or infiltration units, even the modest gear at hand should be enough to drown the Guardians in a sea of fire.

The servomechanisms and the incense burners of the artillery priests still exhaled pale smoke.

And now,

‘Boom! Boom! Boom!’

The first wave of shells roared toward Wanzhou.

Massive detonations echoed over the city, fire and thick smoke erupting in an instant.

The shells landed with pinpoint accuracy on the Mechanical Cult’s lines; Guardians clutching single‑shot rifles, rudimentary breechloaders, even matchlocks crouched in terror.

Before they could even scramble for cover, the explosions erupted beside them.

Drones, shielded by the barrage, lifted in unison like swift birds, circling above Wanzhou.

Real‑time intel from the city streamed to Yu Qian’s smart ocular implant.

Through the drones’ feed, he saw the chaos unfurling within the walls.

The Guardians fled in all directions, scrambling for any shelter from the shells.

Yet the blast waves mercilessly hurled them aloft, over‑pressuring flesh into a sky of crimson mist.

An unready smoothbore cannon took a direct hit, shattering into a blossom of twisted iron.

‘Report, commander!’

‘The bombardment was effective; enemy fortifications have been breached and their troops are in disarray.’

The voice of the battery commander‑communicator crackled in his earpiece; Yu Qian gave a slight nod, a faint relaxation flickering in his eyes.

But he also knew the real fight was only just beginning.

Artillery alone could not eradicate every Guardian.

It was like an elephant trying to crush an entire anthill with a single foot.

With two rounds of fire concluded, it was time to charge forward.

‘Infantry, advance!’

Yu Qian shouted the order.

Infantry armed with Model‑75 and Model‑191 rifles surged from their cover, fanning out in squads toward Wanzhou.

They had never undergone rigorous, systematic training, yet battle after battle had forged a soul within the unit.

A handful of Iron‑Wolf quadruped robots marched alongside, their 8.6 mm rounds sweeping the enemy, completely suppressing the Guardians’ fire points.

Meanwhile, the remnants of the Mechanical Cult’s Guardians, after the barrage, began to regroup from the chaos.

They raised their weapons again, attempting to form lines and fire upon the approaching Huaxia troops.

Yet their fire was negligible against the modern arms of the Huaxia.

A single volley of machine‑gun fire was enough to swallow their ranks whole.

‘Bang‑bang‑bang‑bang—’

Rifle cracks, machine‑gun rattle, and intermittent grenade pops intertwined; under that dense hail, the Guardians’ line was as fragile as paper.

Yu Qian, unhurried, pressed forward behind his men into Wanzhou, while Guo Xu, having been ambushed, began his own breakout.

The clash erupted suddenly, yet it slid inexorably toward its inevitable conclusion.

Before the smoke could clear, Yu Qian’s squad surged into the city.

The streets lay strewn with the Guardians’ corpses, shattered insignia soaked in blood, lips that once whispered devout machine‑soul prayers now spitting blood‑laden foam.

When he saw Guo Xu, his left arm was a mangled mass of flesh and blood.

He leaned against the shattered holy‑emblem statue, watching an expeditionary soldier slit the throat of a Wanzhou Guardian who had tried to strike, the victim’s Adam’s apple bobbing a few times before a hoarse gasp escaped.

‘They’re insane.’

‘Attack the Imperial Guard!’

‘They fired first!’

‘They never intended to let me live!’

‘Nonsense.’

Yu Qian knelt, applying the hemostatic gel dispatched by the battalion commander to the gaping wound, then said:

‘I warned you, but your overconfidence made me think you could actually pull it off.’

‘Dammit.’

Guo Xu spat a profanity.

He could no longer recall the last time he’d uttered a curse.

Since joining the Imperial Guard, he’d seemed to have become a saint.

Yet today’s events drove him to curse his very mother.

“How many are left?”

“Do those people really intend to resist to the end?”

Hearing Guo Xu’s words, Yu Qian shook his head.

His gaze shifted to the smart visor; at that moment, the drone’s feed showed the red‑cloaked bishop in Wan Zhou City retreating with his dwindling forces back into the cathedral.

At the apex of the misshapen edifice built from scrap steel, the emblem of the Mechanical Cult teetered on the brink of collapse.

“I don’t know.”

Yu Qian ripped open the bandage from the first‑aid kit.

“Their resistance is indeed fierce—by all logic, a battle fought this way should have shattered those zealot troops long ago.”

“The situation here is truly complicated.”

“Perhaps they are hiding something you don’t know about.”

After bandaging, Yu Qian rose to his feet.

At his feet lay a zealot soldier whose chest had earlier been pierced by Guo Xu’s blade.

The man’s pupils were dilated, yet his lips kept muttering verses about “the piston’s reciprocation as prayer” and the like.

In the distance, the cathedral’s great doors were blown open by breaching charges.

When the 201 machine‑gun’s rounds swept across, the authority here finally passed in a sanguine fashion.

At that moment, Guo Xu had already recovered from the brief dizziness caused by his wound.

He staggered to his feet, raised a hand, and signaled the troops to regroup.

Under the leadership of Liu Hao and Zhang Chao, the “survivors of the raid” assembled once more.

Yet by then they had already lost more than half their numbers.

Even those who lived emerged with soot‑streaked faces and wounds all over.

“These people are mad,”

Zhang Chao began to speak:

“They didn’t even give us a chance to withdraw!”

“They never even thought about letting us live!” As the words fell, Yu Qian instantly turned his head toward Zhang Chao.

Then he asked:

“So… how did you all end up fighting?”

Zhang Chao looked at Guo Xu, who sighed and replied:

“Let me tell you.”

“In fact, we had just entered Wan Zhou City when their ambush began.”

“At that time they didn’t know who we were; the so‑called preparations were merely a precaution.”

“I even think that, had we been merely a band of loot‑driven mercenaries, they might not have struck us at all.”

“It was precisely because they learned we were Imperial Guard that they chose to strike mercilessly.”

“During the negotiations, the bishop kept stalling for time.”

“From the start he never intended to bargain; he was only buying time to position his troops so he could wipe us out in one blow.”

“It’s truly puzzling—what on earth do they want?”

Yu Qian furrowed his brow.

After a brief pause of thought, he spoke:

“Actually, you should first ask yourself what kind of city Wan Zhou truly is.”

“In any case, go and look inside the cathedral first.”

“Perhaps the answer lies within.”

“Indeed.”

Guo Xu thrust the bandage into his hand, lifted his foot, and headed toward the Mechanical Cult’s cathedral.

Only then did he truly notice the cathedral’s oddities for the first time.

A rusted badge hung crookedly from the spire, like a decaying eye about to fall.

The outer walls were cloaked in dark‑red rust, and cracks oozed black‑brown oil, resembling congealed blood.

Bronze doors were etched with scriptures, yet the twisted characters were flaking away, revealing layers of bizarre patterns beneath.

Inside, the stale air was thick with the foul stench of engine oil mingled with rotting flesh.

Several exoskeleton wrecks were nailed to the side walls, their frames cradling shriveled corpses.

Guo Xu stared, mouth agape, at the scene before him—no matter which cathedral, he had never witnessed such a “blasphemous” tableau.

“Is this still the Mechanical Cult?!”

He exclaimed in astonishment, while Yu Qian beside him said in a low voice:

“That question should be directed at you.”

“Wan Zhou City is supposed to be a key stronghold for you, yet you’re unaware of the changes here??”

“We had no way of knowing.”

Guo Xu exhaled a long breath, as if trying to expel the polluted air he had inhaled.

“This place lies far beyond the core sphere of the Mechanical Cult’s power, and in recent years we have never organized a large‑scale expedition into the mountain city; in fact, the city has essentially”

“been abandoned.”

“Of course, support for it has never truly ceased.”

“We still send supplies and personnel here, but it seems those provisions and troops have not fulfilled their intended purpose.”

“That may not be the whole story.”

Yu Qian pointed at the corpses in the corner and said:

“Perhaps they have been repurposed elsewhere.”

“The people here seem to be conducting some sort of experiment.”

“Can you tell what they are doing?”

“If only I could see it.”

Guo Xu moved to the exoskeleton against the wall, scrutinizing the desiccated bodies mounted upon it.

The corpses’ spinal columns pierced the skin at a grotesque angle, emerging from the power‑armor joints and welded to the mech’s drive shaft.

“They can’t possibly be trying to power the exoskeleton that way, can they?”

Guo Xu instinctively opened his mouth, then instantly shook his head.

“Impossible.”

"They couldn't possibly be that foolish."

His tone was absolute.

For even before the emergence of the Cathayan Army, even before witnessing a living, moving exoskeleton with his own eyes, he had known that such armor was never driven by mere human brawn.

Though the legacy of electricity had drifted close to extinction, its remnants locked away within the Great Archives, the people of this world still held a rudimentary comprehension of power.

They did not understand how electricity wrought its wonders, only that it did.

If common folk knew this much, could the bishops and priests of the Cult of the Machine truly be fools?

"This resembles something more akin to a ritualistic idol."

"They sacrificed these people to the exoskeletons—these men were nailed here while still drawing breath."

"We must locate the church's archives; there might be clues waiting there!"

Guo Xu's eyes brimmed with anxiety, but at that moment, Yu Qian abruptly waved a dismissive hand.

"No need."

"This is indeed a sacrifice."

"The Mountain City... they are attempting to transform themselves into a part of it."

"What??"

Guo Xu turned a stunned gaze upon Yu Qian.

The latter was holding a blood-stained ledger in his hands.

After a brief flip through its pages, he tossed the booklet over to Guo Xu.

"Found this on that bishop."

"They believe that only the 'Machines of the Holy Trinity' are permitted entry into the Mountain City."

"And so, to enter the Holy City, they harbor the delusion of remodeling themselves into machinery."

"Heaven knows where they unearthed some technical data regarding cybernetic prosthetics."

"Ludicrous..."

"Had they studied in Nanjing New City and understood even the basics of cybernetics, they probably wouldn't have committed such an act of sheer idiocy."

Catching the ledger, Guo Xu fell utterly silent.

He turned the pages soundlessly; sodden with blood, the booklet had become frail and brittle.

By the time he finished, the ledger had fallen completely to pieces.

Much like the state of his own mind.

"These people have truly gone mad,"

Guo Xu spoke up, his voice hushed:

"But surely this is an isolated incident. The majority of the Cult of the Machine—"

"It is no isolated incident."

Yu Qian cut him off.

Then, with grave solemnity, he declared:

"The inheritance of knowledge within the Cult of the Machine has already plummeted past the critical red line."

"This is something the Commander foresaw long ago."

"This religion of yours will soon face complete bankruptcy."

"More and more bizarre, unnatural things are bound to happen."

"Then, like a gathering blight, it will rot the entire Cult of the Machine to its core."

"There is no hope left for you."

"Of course, you can still make a final few attempts."

"But in truth, your efforts will amount to nothing."

(End of Chapter)