Chapter 94: Tell the World Who We Are!

Chapter 94: Tell the World Who We Are!

Zhou Qin's departure signified the utter victory of Huangshi City.

Everyone here saw his obsequious, kneeling demeanor before Chen Jian and the others, and thus everyone understood that the once lofty, invincible Holy Blooded had been completely toppled from their pedestal.

They were not the immortal bodies of legend, nor were they in any way invincible.

Bullets would kill them just the same, and when the ancestors' sun rose, they would feel fear as well.

As for the Machine God Cult?

Just a bunch of clowns.

The weapons they prided themselves on, the machine gods they revered, were insignificant before the wisdom of the ancestors, and that invincible flagship had long since been reduced to ash in the explosion.

The atmosphere within Huangshi City was rare in its jubilation; after Chen Jian led the organization of the martyrs' funeral, solemnly and reverently interring their remains in the newly opened 'Martyrs' Cemetery,' the faces of the remaining 126 inhabitants all broke into smiles.

Though the New Year was still far off, the vast majority managed to find relatively clean clothing among the ruins, washed it spotless, and donned it.

Children ran wildly in the craters blasted by artillery, swinging bent sticks and making bang-bang sounds, mimicking scholars playing a childish war game.

Perhaps they still did not truly grasp the cruelty of war.

For this campaign, lasting less than three days, was still too brief for them.

The barrage, gunfire, blood, and death—these heavy topics were completely washed away in the tide of great victory; in their memory, the clearest impression was likely that blinding, searing sun that had destroyed everything.

Admittedly, that impression was overly optimistic, but Chen Jian had no intention of educating them with a bitter, grudging attitude.

They would grow up someday, but before they did, someone ought to provide them with ample shelter.

At 11 a.m., Chen Jian announced the forthcoming victory feast.

Thus the whole day was spent bustling about, save for the regular sentinels on watch.

The strong dragged the enemy corpses to the southern waterway of the lake, letting them drift downstream far away.

Those skilled in cooking roasted the caught fish, placing each one neatly into clean bamboo tubes.

The running children were called back by the elders to clear the ground where the banquet would be held.

Meanwhile, Chen Jian cranked his exoskeleton to maximum power, and together with Huang Yu, Li Shi, and others, he toppled the Trinity symbol representing the Machine God Cult on the church roof.

With a tremendous crash, the church lost its original meaning and gained a new one.

Chen Jian looked at the thoughtful Huang Yu, a flicker of curiosity in his voice as he asked:

"So what is your view of the Machine God Cult?"

Huang Yu stared for a moment, pondered briefly, then replied:

"When they first arrived here, we thought they were just like us."

"They brought many new technologies, some of which had been recorded in the ancestors' annals—such as waterwheels, farming machinery, and human‑powered cranes capable of lifting stone."

"In a short time they made this place quite prosperous."

"Including my grandfather, many once believed they were right."

"But later, things gradually changed."

"How did they change?"

Chen Jian prompted.

"Someone reverse‑engineered a steam engine."

Huang Yu let out a long sigh.

"Using an old kettle brought by a Machine God merchant, plus a few iron pipes and some bamboo."

"That person discovered the steam engine held no machine god—only steam."

"From that day on, Huangshi City began to decline rapidly."

"Understood."

Chen Jian sighed likewise, realizing once more that the Machine God Cult had become utterly distorted.

Faith had overwhelmed development—a state unhealthy even for a religious group.

In the history he knew, no religion had ever been so extreme.

Hmm?

Perhaps there is one.

Perhaps there is a religion that sacrifices development for the sake of purity, clinging to absurd doctrines to maintain its sanctity.

That faith once possessed formidable martial power, even establishing a worldwide empire at its peak.

Yet the relentless wheels of history would eventually grind it underfoot.

So he patted Huang Yu on the shoulder and said:

"From now on you may build steam engines without fear."

Huang Yu nearly got knocked to the ground by Chen Jian's exoskeleton‑powered slap; after regaining his balance, he forced a wry smile and said:

"Commander, my shoulder feels like you've dislocated it."

"Not that exaggerated!"

Chen Jian coughed and replied:

"Let Shen Yue have a look; at most it's just swollen."

They laughed, turned, and continued clearing the lingering symbols from the church.

As the sun was about to set, Lei Jie led his team back, bringing the supplies Chen Jian needed.

Soon the generator roared to life, and the lights of Huangshi City flickered on one by one.

Everyone spontaneously gathered where the light shone brightest; there, makeshift tables and chairs had been painstakingly assembled, and upon them lay modest but ample food.

No further preamble was needed—Chen Jian waved his hand and declared 'Let's eat,' and everyone immediately dug in.

Their impoverished stomachs were soothed at that moment, while Chen Jian and his companions stood at the forefront of the crowd, calibrating the equipment Lei Jie had just brought.

Ten minutes later, as the people's empty bellies gradually filled, the three screens placed before them also lit up.

On the screen, a flicker of firelight appeared, accompanied by the sound of stones striking.

Strange‑looking savages cheered as they lit a bonfire, illuminating the dark, barren cave.

Two lines of subtitles appeared.

'Man and ape part ways.'

'Only a few stones rubbed together, in infancy.'

'The bonfire grew brighter, the hearth turned a glowing red.'

'Within the fire, the red‑baked clay hardened, and a crude pottery vessel was lifted from the flames.'

'The view followed the vessel as it was cradled in hands and set into the flowing river.'

'Water overflowed, spilling onto the land lush with green seedlings.'

Spring departs, autumn arrives; the seedlings gradually turn golden, then are reaped with bronze sickles and stacked in stone-built granaries.

Cold comes, heat goes, heavy snow falls.

Those seeking warmth huddle in corners, tossing charcoal into the fire.

The glowing charcoal bursts forth with a bright yellow light, accompanied by sparks from hammered iron.

That iron implement is gripped in the hand of an armored warrior; the view pulls back once more, amid the vast, majestic ranks, the armored soldiers shout in unison.

"Great wind! Great wind!"

The two armies clash, blood splatters, chariots sweep through, and all under heaven is united.

Same script, same cart tracks, the four seas as one.

The embryo of an empire is born upon this land; the Great Wall winds across it, and foreign cavalry find their advance barred.

The sun rises and sets; the declining empire falls to a new king, and where his blade points, a young general charges northward into the desert.

Sweet wine is poured into the spring, soldiers water their horses by the lake.

Stone inscriptions at Yanran, the wolf’s den sealed; the northern frontier instantly finds peace.

Again, centuries flow like water; in Chang’an the lamps first glow, and merchants of myriad nations, varied in appearance, come to pay tribute to the Celestial Kingdom.

Fireworks burst above Chang’an; when they fade, the empire has entered yet another cycle.

Silkworm‑raising women pluck the cute silkworms, then draw fine silk from boiling water.

Silk takes shape on the loom, then is placed upon horseback and carried far from home.

This bolt of silk has known the desert’s wind and sand, the towering snow‑capped peaks, the raging torrents, and even the splendor of a palace far away across ten thousand li.

Silver, bright as flowers, follows its route back, bringing prosperity to the Eastern empire—and also profound disaster.

Farmers wearing red headscarves hoist their hooves and charge the neat lines of riflemen; blood stains the corrupt ground.

Warships bearing the "Zhi Yuan" flag tilt toward the enemy flagship, sinking heroically in the explosion.

The oppressive, heavy, sorrowful atmosphere lingers long; blood has nearly run dry.

Until the gunshot sounds from Chu Wang Terrace.

The irresistible northern expedition buries the empire, yet the struggle is far from over.

A red boat lies still upon the water, bearing a symbol that appears for the first time before all eyes.

An unprecedented war continues.

In the icy plain a general chews wild grass; on a cliff a warrior leaps down; in a fallen city, townsfolk have their heads cut off by the invaders.

Gun smoke spreads; the people who struggle and resist never surrender.

Until a certain scene: the gun that spits bullets becomes the pen that signs the surrender.

Soon after, the red sun rises.

Steel clangs and roars in the factory, hammers swing, molten iron flows!

The banner bearing the white tiger is torn apart; amidst the swirling sands, a sun many times larger than that of Yuqingzhou rises over the Gobi desert!

Rockets soar into the sky, and the night gains a new, shining star.

Tunnel boring machines roar through mountains, while winding bridges span the boundless sea.

Skyscrapers stand firm; newborn cities spring from the earth.

In the brightly lit underground, within the ultimate vast ring, particles infinitesimally small collide.

The true "sun" is bound by invisible stances; its fierce light illuminates civilization’s future.

Fighter jets streak overhead, great ships glide on the water, shadows lurk beneath—unceasingly they guard this land weathered by wind and frost.—

Then.

Comes an unknown collapse.

The last call preserved in the 7025 fortifications almost became civilization’s final testament.

"Are you still here?"

The screen darkens; Chen Jian gazes at the silent crowd.

The final question already has an answer.

He draws a deep breath and declares firmly:

"Look at me, and answer toward our shared ancestors."

"We are still here!"

"We are still here!"

The crowd erupts in a soul‑shaking roar; Chen Jian raises his hand and then says:

"We are the children of Huaxia, and we shall forever be."

"Today, after victory, I tell you who you are."

"From now on, we will win more victories."

"To tell the world who we are!"

(End of chapter)