Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

For a moment, the crowd was in an uproar.

Many loyal believers of the Fist God raised their fists and glared at him.

Some of them were horrified, intimidated by the arrogance of the believers of mechanics and steam in broad daylight in front of the statue of the Fist God.

Not far away, a team of muscular guards with bulging temples pushed everyone away and charged at the heretic.

The guy turned a blind eye to it. He was still shouting heretical slogans and throwing toilet paper recklessly.

The paper fell down like snowflakes.

Most of the devout believers were as scared as snakes and scorpions and avoided him like poison.

But there were a few people who found it hard to resist the temptation of curiosity. They secretly grabbed the paper and glanced at it, before they threw it aside and stomped on it to prove their innocence.

Gus swallowed and grabbed one, too.

The paper was very rough. There were a few simple words written on it, which meant ‘the old gods are dead, and the new gods must rise’.

But there was also a picture of the so-called ‘God of Steam’ below the picture. It was a giant steam engine that was driving eight mechanical arms like a raging iron demon.

The pattern was quite delicate. The lines were narrow and interconnected. Even on the rough paper, the ink did not spread out.

Gus looked at it and noticed that other papers had exactly the same pattern.

He used the tip of his foot to stack the two pieces of paper together. The two patterns were exactly the same. Every line matched.

It meant that the picture was not drawn.

Instead, it was printed on a printer.

Gus had seen something like a printing press in his father’s notes. It was a large, sophisticated machine.

The fact that the heretics had the capability to hide a printing machine in Qianyuan City made Gus shudder.

At this moment, the guards had already rushed forward and pinned the guy who was distributing the flyers down.

Like a few bears crushing a sheep, the guy was almost crushed to death.

However, the guy was indeed determined to fight until one of them was killed. He was still shouting recklessly under the pressure of hundreds of kilograms of muscles.

However, the high-pitched screams had lost all meaning. They were like people whose tongues had been cut off cursing the heavens in the most vicious way.

Gus and Grey looked at each other.

Then he looked at the sky.

It was daytime.

But the crack in the sky that could be seen in Red Gold Town was becoming more and more obvious, as if a giant smiling mouth was mocking the powerlessness of the Fist God.

“The world is about to collapse.

For some reason, Gus thought of Lu Qingchen’s words again.

There was no telling whether or not the world had collapsed, but the believers of the Mechanical and Steam Sect were indeed more and more active, and the control over the Temple of Fist was indeed getting weaker and weaker.

Gus and Grey watched emotionlessly as the guy who was handing out the flyers was dragged away by the guards.

The ground was left with a zigzagging and intense trace of blood.

A guard came to check everyone’s identification.

Since machines were rarely used and tools were not a favorite, the identification of the Fist God’s World was very crude. It was nothing more than bamboo chips with names and hometowns carved on them.

Gus and Grey had stolen the identity cards of the passers-by and forged them.

What was more troublesome was their faces. In times of emergency, a pair of sister and brother would certainly attract a lot of attention when they came to Heavenly Essence City.

In regard to that, Lu Qingchen had disguised them, too. He had only blown air on their faces, and they were already unrecognizable. They were two dark-skinned villagers. Besides, Gus seemed to be much older than her, which was totally different from his real face.

The guards were all focused on the guy who had just handed out the flyers. They were merely doing their job to check whether or not the bystanders had any flyers on them.

Gus and Grey were each carrying a basket on their back, which was packed with mountain goods. They had stuffed the steam ball where Lu Qingchen was hiding and the precious notes left by their father into the stomachs of the pheasants and the wild ducks.

The guards checked casually and waved their hands.

The two of them followed the crowds into Heavenly Essence City.

Although Heavenly Essence City was a big city in the north, it was not very prosperous.

Or rather, none of the cities in the World of the Fist God were prosperous.

This was because this world advocated a simple, arduous, iron-blooded, and martial life. They were not interested in extravagant, extravagant, debauchery.

Passing through the city gate, Li Yao found that the most eye-catching landmark of Qianyuan Town was the magnificent temple of fists.

Hundreds of arenas and arenas surrounded the temple, with arenas and arenas in front and behind.

Training, challenging, sparring, teaching. Thousands upon thousands of buff, muscular men, whose blood and sweat congregated into raging red clouds in midair.

Muscles and muscles collided brutally, producing cracking noises. It was the most sacred piece of music in the path of iron fists.

Other than the Temple of Fist and the martial arts schools, there were also a lot of bizarre-shaped guys on the street.

They were often in ragged clothes or even dirty clothes, but their eyes were glittering, and they were surrounded by a strong aura. Sitting cross-legged on the roadside, there was a sign in front of them on which their background, level, and Cultivation arts were written.

They were all wandering fighters who had been travelling in the World of the Fist God, hoping to get to know each other through martial arts.

Every once in a while, someone would go up and challenge the wandering boxer. After a few cracking sounds, the outcome of the match would be decided. Naturally, everyone was beaten black and blue, but they were not angry at all. Instead, they burst into laughter and hugged each other’s shoulders, as if they had really become bosom friends that they had not met for many years.

Some weirdos even kneeled down on the street and bashed their heads against the ground after every step.

BOOM!

Their heads were fine, but the stones on the street had been dented by them, with cracks spreading out like a spider web.

Gus had heard that they were all ascetics who had made great vows in front of the Fist God. They purified their minds and listened to the voice of the Fist God by torturing their bodies.

The guy who hit his head on the ground must’ve been training in the Iron Head Art. It was impossible for him to walk for thousands of miles without hitting his head.

In the past, Gus had admired the ascetics and even thought that he would become one someday. He had touched the Fist God with his sincerity and reversed his destiny.

Now that he had witnessed the power of the storm bolter and the Vulcan Machine Gun, Gus could only sneer at the ascetic.

Other than boxing clubs, the stores along the street basically had only two uses.

One of them was a restaurant—the boxers had bulging muscles, so naturally, their appetites were not small. 3-5 lb of beef and 3-5 lb of bread were a piece of cake for a meal. Therefore, there were even more restaurants here than in the boxing gym, and they were all quite large in scale.

Next were stores that sold ointments and weapons. Ointment was a necessity for training. Weapons such as sabers, swords, bows, and arrows, although despised by the experts, were still necessary for the old, the weak, the women, and the children to protect themselves.