The Scrap Iron Plaza was dead silent.
The only sound came from the hum of the power longsword in the hand of Centurion Calis. A pale blue energy field enveloped its jagged blade, exuding an aura of death.
The crowd of Lower District onlookers wore expressions of numb terror. They had seen far too many scenes like this. The fate of rebels was always the same.
Calis reveled in their gaze. He slowly raised his sword, aiming it at Li Si, who was tied to the central cross, barely clinging to life.
"In the name of the Blacksteel Council…" His cold voice, amplified by his armor's speakers, echoed across the plaza.
At the very moment he was about to swing down—
Chaos erupted!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Over a dozen unremarkable maintenance shaft iron grates in the plaza's ground were violently thrust open, as if by some underground behemoth. Amid ear-splitting metal snaps and the screech of high-pressure steam, they all flew into the air!
Everyone recoiled in shock at the sudden turn of events.
In the next second, ten agile figures leaped out of those pitch-black openings, like vengeful ghosts rising from hell.
They wielded all manner of bizarre, metallic-glinting weapons—steel gauntlets laced with pistons and pipes, cutting spears that sprayed high-temperature steam, and rope launchers fitted with grappling hooks.
Their steam-powered armor's pistons hissed rhythmically as they patrolled the dark alleys.
"Who are you?!" Calis spun around sharply, a flicker of astonishment in his eyes.
The remaining Blacksteel Guards reacted at once, raising their steam rifles to open fire.
But the Fire Cult warriors were faster.
One worker roared, activating the steam gauntlet on his arm, and charged straight at a guard. The guard's alloy shield crumbled like paper under a single punch, sending him flying backward, his chest armor caved in deeply.
Another worker's cutting spear spewed scorching steam. Instead of striking the guards' sturdy chest plates, it sliced precisely at their vulnerable knee joints. Amid a bone-chilling screech of metal, the guard screamed and fell to his knees, completely incapacitated.
The battle exploded in an instant.
Chaos reigned.
This was no evenly matched fight—it was a precise, premeditated slaughter!
Empowered by the "Divine Revelation" of Jin Wanchao, the Fire Cult warriors could clearly "see" the weak points and energy nodes of these power armors. Their attacks seemed crude, yet every strike was lethal, targeting joints, pipes, and heat vents.
The Blacksteel Guards, once imposing as steel fortresses, now appeared clumsy and clumsy before them. One by one, they fell, disarmed and dismantled.
The onlookers were utterly dumbfounded.
Their mouths hung open, eyes wide with disbelief.
These ragged workers, who looked no different from themselves—were they actually defeating the regular army of the Blacksteel Council?
"Well done!" Someone in the crowd let out a suppressed cheer.
One after another, the cheers rose, from quiet murmurs to a surging tide!
Calis trembled with rage. He finally understood—the explosion in the West District was just a decoy. This was the real target.
His gaze locked coldly onto Jin Wanchao, who was directing the fight.
"An insect!" he roared, activating the thrusters on his back. His massive frame shot toward Jin Wanchao like a black cannonball, his power longsword carving a deadly blue arc.
Jin Wanchao did not dodge.
In his "vision," Calis' magnificent Centurion-class power armor had become a transparent, three-dimensional structure pulsing with energy. Every turning gear, every contracting piston, every flickering energy node lay clearly before him.
He spotted it: just below Calis' left shoulder joint, a high-speed energy relay node—the core of the entire left arm's power system, and its weakest point.
Instead of retreating, Jin Wanchao charged forward. He took a hastily modified high-pressure steam spear from a nearby teammate. Its tip was nothing more than a sharpened steel pipe, connected to a massive high-pressure steam canister.
To everyone watching, it was a mantis trying to stop a chariot—suicide.
A cruel smile spread across Calis' face. He could already picture Jin Wanchao being split in two by his blade.
At the instant they were about to collide, Jin Wanchao's body twisted at an impossible angle, narrowly dodging the fatal strike.
At the same time, his steam spear, like a striking viper, did not pierce Calis' chest. Instead, it drove precisely into that inconspicuous gap beneath his left shoulder joint.
Hiss——
Jin Wanchao slammed open the steam canister's valve.
A blast of ultra-compressed, high-temperature, high-pressure steam erupted from the spear's tip, flooding violently into the armor's interior.
"No!" Calis let out a terrified scream.
Boom!
A dull explosion. His sturdy alloy left arm burst apart from the inside! Countless precision parts and charred wiring flew in all directions, and the whole limb hung limply. The force of the impact threw him off balance, staggering to his knees.
Jin Wanchao kicked him in the chest, sending the arrogant centurion sprawling. He pressed the spear's tip against Calis' throat.
The entire plaza fell silent.
Everyone held their breath, staring dumbfounded at the scene.
They… won?
A nameless worker had defeated a Centurion of the Blacksteel Guards in direct combat?
After a brief hush, the crowd erupted into earth-shaking cheers!
Jin Wanchao paid them no mind. He looked down at the struggling Calis beneath his feet, his eyes icy.
Calis lifted his head. Beneath his helmet, there was no fear—only endless venom and contempt.
He spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered, speaking slowly and clearly:
"Don't get cocky, insect. Lord Valerius will grind you all into powder."
Valerius?
Jin Wanchao silently committed the name to memory.
He was about to order his comrades on the cross to be rescued and the wounded to retreat—
when a clear, playful female voice cut through the noise.
"Nice work."
The crowd parted automatically.
A woman stepped forward. She wore a well-tailored leather suit, with a striking figure, completely out of place among the ragged Lower District residents. Behind her followed a band of scavengers armed to the teeth, every one of them fierce-eyed—clearly no ordinary thugs.
She stopped in front of Jin Wanchao and studied him with interest, a sharp smile tugging at her lips.
"They call me Wrench. This scrap heap? It's mine."
"Now… let's talk business."