North of the育儿 Factory, outside the sewage outlet, the night hung thick like congealed ink. The massive metal drain, set against the backdrop of the city's storm, gaped like a monster's bloodstained maw, exuding a faint, foul stench. Jin Wanchao's strike team, clad in custom steam-powered exoskeletons, lay quietly concealed in the dark, every joint merging seamlessly with the night.
Jin Wanchao's "Flame" burned calmly within him. The育儿 Factory unfolded in his mind, every pipe, every steel plate, every turning gear laid bare in perfect clarity. He could "see" the cold blue energy veins pulsing like living blood vessels, both inside and outside the facility.
"The turbine pump at the northern sewage outlet is aging, with minor energy leakage," Jin Wanchao's voice came over the internal comms, calm and unshakable. "We'll infiltrate from there. The internal maintenance passage releases high-pressure steam every three minutes. Lao Zhong, keep time. We only get one chance to pass through."
Lao Zhong wore a compact exoskeleton, the timer on his wrist flickering dimly. He spoke in a low, steady tone. "Rest easy, Brother Wanchao. I've got it. Steam every three minutes—we'll go in ten seconds before the next burst."
Jin Wanchao nodded and turned to the Chosen squad beside him. Each wore a solemn expression, not a flicker of fear in their eyes, only absolute trust in him. They were the elite of the Fire Cult, warriors awakened personally by Jin Wanchao's "Flame."
"Activate the sonic suppression field," Jin Wanchao ordered.
Little Xing carefully pressed a button on the device strapped to his back. An invisible ripple spread outward at once, swallowing all sound completely. The team's breathing, the faint creaking of their exoskeletons, even the rhythm of their heartbeats—all were absorbed by the special force field. They had become true ghosts, undetectable even by the wind.
"Move out."
With that quiet command, Jin Wanchao led the way into the pitch-black, reeking sewage pipe.
The interior of the enormous pipe was slimy and filthy, water trickling beneath their feet. Jin Wanchao's "Flame" now acted like a surgeon's scalpel, dissecting this steel artery with precision. He could "see" the rusted valves lining the pipe walls, clogged debris, even the faint energy ripples in the flowing water.
"Five meters ahead on the left—water pressure sensor. Circle around."
Jin Wanchao's instructions were precise and timely.
The team hesitated not at all. Though their steam exoskeletons were bulky, under Jin Wanchao's direction they moved with astonishing agility. It was as if they walked along a map etched into their own minds, dodging every monitor and remaining patrol unit flawlessly.
Deeper they ventured into the factory, where cold, unnervingly sterile metal corridors stretched ahead. Slogans reading "Order" and "Obedience" were daubed on the walls in faded paint, their message bitterly ironic. The air reeked of antiseptic and machine oil, a dead stillness in stark contrast to the chaotic industrial district outside.
"Brother Wanchao, right corridor—biological signatures," a team member reported.
Jin Wanchao's "Flame" swept over the area. Deep in the dark passage, several twisted, restless clumps of biological energy stood exposed to his sight. He could even "smell" the thick, rank odor of chimera-like abominations—the unique stench of rot and decay where flesh merged with machinery.
His heart sank. It confirmed his suspicions about the "Black Box" zone. Valerius's vile experiments had seeped into every corner of the factory.
"Take no notice. Our target is the central control room." Jin Wanchao's voice remained unwavering. Time was pressing; they could not afford to waste a single moment here.
They pressed on, moving like phantoms through the factory's veins. Auto-turret sensors swept silently, infrared webs crisscrossing the corridors—but through Jin Wanchao's "Divine Vision" these defenses were nothing but transparent energy schematics. Their pathways, blind spots, and alert thresholds all lay clear before him.
At last, the entrance to the central control room loomed ahead. A round blast door forged from heavy alloy, etched with the cold emblem of the Blacksteel Council.
Jin Wanchao was about to order a breach when the "Flame" within him jolted violently, detecting an unusually powerful energy surge.
In his "vision," a translucent energy barrier materialized abruptly before the alloy gate. Countless ancient runes drifted across it like living things, exuding a suffocating, menacing pressure. This energy signature bore a faint resemblance to a certain ancient technique recorded in the *Tooth of Whispers*.
"That's… a runic barrier from the Age of the Smith God!" Lao Zhong exclaimed over the comms, his exoskeleton chirping a faint warning.
Jin Wanchao's pupils constricted sharply.
Valerius had actually reverse-engineered the ancient technology of the Smith God! This barrier was unmarked on any blueprints, completely beyond their expectations. It stood like an insurmountable chasm between them and the central control room.
"Brother Wanchao, what do we do?" Xing asked anxiously.
Jin Wanchao did not reply. He slowly raised his right hand, his steam-powered gauntlet pressing gently against the faintly glowing energy barrier.
A flood of immense information, carrying ancient, boundless memories, surged into his mind in an instant. He could "see" the barrier's design philosophy, "hear" its intricate energy circuits murmuring, even sense the designer's rigorous yet faintly arrogant intellect.
This was the ancient technology of the Smith God, twisted and repurposed by Valerius—and now perceived by Jin Wanchao through a power of the same origin.
Before they were detected, he would have to hold a silent "dialogue of technology" with this energy barrier spanning the ages.