35: Chapter 35 The New Infrastructure Maniac

The long saber hummed, its blade radiance yet to dissipate.

The roar of 'Charge to the End' still echoed over the ancestral hall square, and the assembly line named [Hope No. 1] had emitted an even heavier, more urgent roar, like an awakened ancient giant beast, greedily swallowing and spitting out flames and molten iron.

'Liver Emperor V87' had eyes filled with spiderweb-like bloodshot, but his expression was excited to the extreme, just like a mad god admiring his most perfect creation.

He waved his big hand, the trajectory of his arm drawing an afterimage under the firelight, his hoarse voice drowning out the roar of the furnace:

'Not enough! This is not enough! A half-foot blade radiance, splitting granite, what kind of skill is that? What I want is a divine weapon capable of severing magical artifacts! Materials! More materials! 'Miner Boss'! Have your people bury their lives in the mine shafts for me! Furnace No. 3! Why isn't the temperature up to standard yet? You over there, stop slacking off, damn it, increase the hammer speed by thirty percent! You aren't striking iron; you're striking the bones of those scumbags from the Heavenly Demon Sect!'

Above the square, heat waves rolled, and people's hearts were boiling.

The second, the third... the tenth standard long saber was spat out from the end of the production line with a 'clatter'.

Each one was identical to the first, rough, ugly, yet containing the same cold, standardized murderous intent.

'Demolition Office Director' carried a new saber, licking his lips, saliva almost drooling down: 'Damn, this feel, this weight! It's countless times better than that crappy saber dropped by the Black Wind Stockade chieftain! Brats of the Divine Wind Battalion, listen up, one for each person. Those who have received a saber, get your asses to the North Mountain mine to serve as guards! Whoever dares to let a single hair fall from 'Miner Boss', I'll stuff him into the furnace to be remelted!'

'Appearance is Justice' pinched her nose, staying far away from those black lumps of iron, her face full of unbearable disgust: 'Can't you inlay some gems? Or make them gold? Such an ugly saber, how can it match the face of our ancestor? If word gets out, won't people laugh at our poor taste?'

Before her words fell, a player next to her who had just received a saber impatiently infused spiritual energy. With a 'chi' sound, a half-foot-long blade radiance burst forth, illuminating his fanatical face.

'Ugly? Is being ugly an original sin? As long as it can kill, it's fine!' He shouted excitedly, spittle flying everywhere, 'I'm going to test this blade now and see if the skulls of those blind spirit beasts are as hard as this granite!'

Fanaticism spread like a plague.

On the face of every player was written a desire called 'war'.

They were like a pack of hyenas that had discovered an armory, unable to wait to plunge their newly acquired fangs into the enemy's throat.

However, in this ocean of fanaticism, two rocks stood in confrontation, stirring up surging waves.

'Bullshit!' 'Charge to the End' carried the long saber he had named 'Unit 01', the tip pointing directly at 'Shield Mountain's' eternal iceberg face, 'Limited resources should of course be used to build weapons first! The best materials must be used on the blade! Our Divine Wind Battalion needs to be fully re-equipped! One hundred-refined steel saber per person, plus three armor-piercing talismans! I want to tear through their defensive line the moment the war starts!'

'Shield Mountain' ignored his roar, simply lowering the giant shield seized from the Chen family, which was covered in saber marks and sword holes, with a dull 'thud'.

He looked at the claw mark on the shield face that was deep enough to see bone, and said calmly: 'The first batch of products from the assembly line should be shields. At least one thousand. The material should be the best black ironwood, lined with three layers of spirit beast skin. Use your so-called 'best materials'.'

'Coward's theory!' 'Charge to the End' was furious.

'This is strategy.' 'Shield Mountain's' voice remained as steady as a rock, 'No matter how fast your blade is, it cannot be faster than spells. Before you reach the enemy, you will all be dead. We need a wall, a movable wall filled with lives, to buy you distance for the charge.'

'My men's lives are precious; they don't need to be traded for your crappy door panels!'

'Their lives are equally precious, which is why your blade needs to be fast and sharp enough to eliminate the enemy before they fall.'

The two stood toe-to-toe, one blazing like fire, the other frozen like ice; the surrounding air seemed to be twisted by the aura between them.

'Enough!'

A clear shout, like a spring of ice, poured over this boiling sea of fire.

'Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet' walked over with her arms crossed, her face cold.

Behind her, 'Skillful Hands Mending' and 'Appearance is Justice' and a few other core female players followed, forming an aura that could not be ignored.

'Argue! Keep arguing!' Little Trumpet's phoenix eyes widened, her gaze like a knife, first scraping over 'Charge to the End', then sweeping toward 'Shield Mountain', 'By the time you argue out a result, the Demon Lord's army will have already stepped over our corpses and dismantled the ancestor's memorial tablet!'

She paused, walked between the two, and looked up at 'Charge to the End': 'Brute, I ask you, where is the mountain gate of the Heavenly Demon Sect?'

'I...' 'Charge to the End' was instantly speechless. He only knew it was in the north, but he had no idea where it specifically was.

Little Trumpet turned to 'Shield Mountain': 'Turtle, I ask you, under Demon Lord Night Radiance, besides that black-robed envoy called Fierce Shadow, how many are at the Foundation Establishment Stage? What cultivation methods do they specialize in? What are their weaknesses?'

'Shield Mountain' was silent.

Intelligence was not his specialty.

'You don't know?' Little Trumpet sneered, her voice not loud, but clearly spreading across the entire square, 'Then what the hell are you arguing about here! Do you think you can win just by holding a pile of blueprints? We don't even know where the enemy is, who the enemy is, or how many enemies there are! We are fighting a ghost!'

Her words were like a basin of bone-chilling ice water, instantly extinguishing everyone's fanaticism.

Yeah, who is the enemy?

That black-robed demon envoy who called himself Fierce Shadow, just one person, wiped out dozens of players with overwhelming force; that wasn't a battle, it was a cleanup.

And he was merely an 'envoy'.

What kind of terrifying existence must the Blood Slaughter Demon Lord behind him be?

'Gossip Sister is right!' The representative of the life-skill players, 'Skillful Hands Mending', raised her hand weakly. She was holding a piece of skin just peeled from a spirit beast, and said in a soft voice: 'We don't even know where the 'Yin Iron Ore' and 'Blood-Vein Steel' needed to refine 'standard magical artifacts' are, let alone mass production.'

'So,' Little Trumpet summarized, her eyes becoming sharp as an eagle's, 'From now on, combatants will be divided into two parts. One part, led by 'Charge to the End' and 'Shield Mountain', will be responsible for clearing out spirit beasts in the known areas of the North Mountain, training troops, and at the same time collecting basic materials for 'Liver Emperor's' industrial plan. Weapons and shields will be produced at a ratio of three to one. Anyone who has further objections can go cry to the ancestor themselves.'

She swept her gaze over the two, and seeing they were unwilling but did not refute, she continued: 'The other part, led by me personally, will form an elite reconnaissance team. We will be like mad dogs, pouncing into the unknown areas of the North Mountain, and dig out the Heavenly Demon Sect! I want to know every one of their strongholds, every leader, and even whether they ate rice or steamed buns in their cafeteria today!'

The fanatical passion finally found an outlet for release, turning into concrete goals.

The entire Lu Family Hollow had completely turned into a high-speed operating war machine.

North Mountain, a hundred miles away.

In a hidden mountain hollow forgotten by moonlight, a black shadow, like a ghost, silently clung to the shadow of a towering ancient tree.

He was dressed in night-travel clothing, blending into the darkness, his breathing seemingly merging with the rhythm of the night wind.

The Hall Master of the Dark Hall of the Heavenly Demon Sect, 'Faceless Ones'.

His gaze was looking far away toward the Lu Family Hollow, which had half the sky dyed red by firelight, through a special glazed mirror refined from the eyes of a night owl.

Even across a hundred miles, the sky-piercing clamor and fanaticism still made him frown.

'A bunch of lunatics...'

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, as if two pieces of sandpaper were rubbing together.

As a top scout and assassin at the late stage of Qi Refining, he had seen too many so-called 'elites'.

Righteous path, demon sect, and even those fierce soldiers of the demon race.

They were either disciplined or brutal and bloodthirsty, but they all had the logic and awe that living beings should have.

But this group of 'people' within the lens did not.

They were like beans thrown into a frying pan, bouncing crazily at every moment, completely lacking rules or order.

One moment they were fighting each other over weapon distribution, and the next they were arm-in-arm charging toward the furnace, using their flesh and blood to withstand the splashing sparks.

Their architecture was crude, their formations were a mess, and their roars were utterly foolish.

"For the Ancestor's gold coffin?"

The Faceless Ones could not understand the meaning of this slogan; it was simply an absurd line that would only appear in mortal plays.

However, it was this very rabble that annexed Black Wind Stockade and wiped out the Qingxi Chen Family.

Sect Master Night Radiance was determined to obtain the so-called "Ancestor's ashes." This matter concerned the sect's grand plan, as well as... the greatest obsession in the Sect Master's heart, which must not be lost.

Lord Fierce Shadow sent it here specifically to find out the truth about this group of lunatics.

"Must sneak in."

The Faceless Ones put away the crystal mirror, its figure flickering like a wisp of blue smoke, disappearing from the spot.

Its stealth technique was a secret art of the Demon Sect; even with the divine sense of a Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator, it would be difficult to detect its tracks without deliberate investigation.

Half an hour later.

On the outskirts of Lu Family Hollow, beneath a crooked wooden watchtower built by the players themselves, the Faceless Ones quietly appeared.

It pressed itself against the blind spot of the watchtower and listened.

"Sigh, when do you think we'll be able to change equipment? Those bastards in the Divine Wind Battalion have already received new blades."

"What's the rush? Brother Shield said that our 'pot lids' are our core competitiveness! Once Liver Emperor develops the 'Black Iron Pot Lid', our Pot Lid Army will be the sturdiest city wall in Lu Family Hollow!"

"That's true. By the way, what was the password for tonight?"

"That grandson 'Keyboard Warrior' just posted it in the region channel. Let me think... Oh, it's 'The Ancestor's coffin lid, shining brightly'."

"Damn, that's fucking abstract."

The Faceless Ones memorized this conversation word for word, a sneer of disdain curling at the corner of its mouth.

As expected, a bunch of idiots.

Its figure blurred again, bypassing the watchtower, and it soon arrived outside a building that looked like a warehouse.

At the entrance, two players were leaning against the doorframe, bored out of their minds.

The Faceless Ones took a deep breath, straightened the coarse linen clothes it had stripped from a lone player it had knocked unconscious, and swaggered out.

Its gait and demeanor were imitated perfectly to match those players, carrying a bit of a slacker vibe.

"Stop! What are you doing?" one player blocked it.

"Getting stuff," the Faceless Ones said, suppressing its voice and speaking vaguely.

"Password."

"The Ancestor's coffin lid, shining brightly," the Faceless Ones answered fluently.

The player was stunned for a moment, scratched his head: "That's not right... That was the password from an hour ago."

The Faceless Ones' heart sank.

The other player yawned and said impatiently, "Stop wasting time with him, just have him give the secret signal. Hey, newbie, watch closely!"

As he spoke, the player took out a wooden board from his bosom, on which a charcoal-drawn stick figure with extremely twisted and misaligned facial features was depicted.

"Tell me, who is this?"

The Faceless Ones' pupils suddenly constricted.

What is this? Some kind of rune?

Its brain worked at high speed, searching through all the intelligence it possessed; whether it was the righteous path or the demonic path, it had never seen such a bizarre and ugly symbol.

"This is... the Ancestor?" it answered tentatively.

"Pfft!" The questioning player spat out a mouthful of saliva, "Who the fuck are you insulting! This is me! Don't you see this handsome face and this dashing hairstyle?"

"..."

The Faceless Ones was completely dumbfounded.

Its Dao heart, tempered to be as solid as a rock through countless assassinations and ambushes, showed cracks for the first time.

Its silence had already exposed everything.

"Damn it, it's a spy!" The two players instantly exploded into action, their long blades swinging without any technique, hacking towards its head from left and right.

"Seeking death!" A murderous glint flashed in the Faceless Ones' eyes; its figure flickered like a ghost, and with fingers pressed together, it struck their throats as fast as lightning.

Crack! Amidst the sound of shattering bones, the two players collapsed softly, their bodies turning into specks of white light and dissipating into the air.

The Faceless Ones' eyelids twitched wildly.

"Enemy attack! There's a mole in the warehouse!" Its tracks were completely exposed.

From all directions, countless players surged over like a hive of hornets that had been poked.

Leading them were "Shield Mountain," holding a giant shield, and "Charge to the End," carrying a new blade with a face full of fighting spirit.

"Late stage of Qi Refining? Very good! This is exciting!" "Charge to the End's" gaze locked onto the Faceless Ones, the excitement in his eyes almost overflowing.

"Form up!" "Shield Mountain" said nothing, slamming his giant shield into the ground. Amidst a muffled sound, dozens of players behind him raised crude wooden shields, forming a precarious wall.

"A bunch of things that don't know death." The Faceless Ones moved, like an arrow released from a string, taking the initiative to charge towards the direction where the players were most dense.

A black light flashed, and the head of a player charging at the very front flew into the sky.

Blood sprayed, but none of the surrounding players retreated; instead, they became even crazier.

"Kill him! He dropped equipment!"

"Hold the line! Don't let him run!"

The Faceless Ones felt as if it had fallen into a quagmire.

These people's attacks were chaotic and disorganized, yet they were fearless of death.

It tore open one person's chest with a claw, but before that person died, they tightly hugged its arm;

It kicked and broke someone's neck, and immediately three or four long blades hacked at it from behind.

"Shield wall, advance!"

"Shield Mountain" roared, and the shield wall squeezed towards it by force.

The Faceless Ones struck out with a palm, demonic energy surging, blowing away the three players in the front, but the gap was immediately filled.

"Now! Divine Wind Battalion, charge with me!" "Charge to the End" seized the brief stiffness created by the shield wall, like a tiger descending the mountain, and with spiritual power infused into his standard-issue long blade, it erupted with an unprecedented, brilliant blade glow!

"Die for me!"

The blade glow pierced the air, carrying a sharp whistle that tore through the air, heading straight for the Faceless Ones' heart.

The Faceless Ones felt a fatal threat, its footwork changed, and it narrowly avoided the vital spot.

Swish! The blade glow grazed its ribcage, bringing up a spray of blood.

Intense pain came, and the Faceless Ones let out a muffled grunt.

It was injured!

"Haha! Hit him! Brothers, it's bleeding!" "Charge to the End" roared excitedly.

The players' morale instantly climbed to its peak.

Flying Swords, talismans, and even people from afar threw poisoned stones and sacks filled with filth, covering the sky and earth.

"You... all deserve to die!"

The Faceless Ones roared, and the demonic energy in its body erupted, blowing away the surrounding players, while it took out a blood-colored talisman from its bosom and slammed it onto itself.

"Blood Escape Technique!"

Boom! Its body exploded into a cloud of blood mist, shooting into the darkness in the distance at a speed difficult for the naked eye to capture.

"Do not pursue a desperate enemy." "Shield Mountain" grabbed "Charge to the End" who was about to pursue, his voice steady, but his slightly trembling hand exposed his inner agitation, "It won't get far; 'Little Trumpet's' people are already waiting outside."

The blood mist streaked a long trajectory across the night sky, finally re-condensing into form in a dense forest several miles away.

The Faceless Ones' face was as pale as paper, the wound on its ribcage was deep enough to see the bone, and black demonic blood kept oozing out.

It gasped for breath, its eyes filled with the panic of surviving a disaster, as well as... deep confusion.

It was defeated inexplicably, defeated with extreme frustration.

Just then, a crisp female voice, accompanied by a rustling sound, came from the canopy above its head.

"Hey, friend down there, do you need help? We have golden sore medicine here, I'll give you a 20% discount."

The Faceless Ones looked up suddenly.

It saw that on the tree, several figures also wearing coarse linen clothes were squatting on the branches, looking at it with grins.

Leading them was "Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet."

In her hand, she was holding a "Recording Stone" that had just started its recording function, which was flickering with a faint spiritual light.

The Faceless Ones' heart sank completely to the bottom.