The air over Eastport didn't smell like salt anymore; it smelled like roasted calamari and money.
On the docks, Butcher Wang, a man who had spent forty years chopping sardine heads for copper coins, stood before a wall of purple flesh. It was a single tentacle of the Kraken, severed and hoisted up by a crane. He held a vibrating Pneumatic Saw—a tool lent to him by the Beiluo Engineering Corps.
"Steady, lads!" Wang shouted to his line of apprentices. "Cut the steaks thick! The Administrator says the meat is rich in Yang energy. One bite will keep a man warm for a week!"
He pressed the trigger. The saw whirred, slicing through the rubbery toughness of the Ocean King's flesh like butter. Slabs of glowing blue meat fell onto the conveyor belt, where canning machines—hastily assembled on the pier—sealed them into tin tins labeled Imperial Rations: Class A.
Behind the canning line, the citizens of Eastport were feasting. Great bonfires roasted the scraps. For the first time in history, the mortals were eating the predator. Children ran through the streets, their cheeks flushed with the vitality of the Spirit Meat, playing with toy versions of the Kunpeng carved from driftwood.
Jiang Chen watched the industry from the balcony of the Magistrate's office. He wasn't looking at the feast; he was looking at the ledger.
[Resource Acquired: 500 Tons of Spirit Meat.][Effect: Population Vitality +20%. Workforce Stamina Doubled.][Trade Route: Eastport to Beiluo established.]
"The road is paved," Jiang Chen said to Chen Wei. "The Kraken meat will feed the miners in the North. The Northern iron will build the ships for the East. The Kingdom circulates."
"And the Cultivators?" Chen Wei asked, pointing to the Blue Wave Sect disciples who were awkwardly standing in line for a ration ticket, their pride swallowed by hunger and awe.
"They pay double," Jiang Chen said. "If they want to eat, they work. Put them on security detail for the supply convoys. It's time they learned that Qi doesn't fill a stomach."
The celebration was short-lived for the inner circle. The Kunpeng was undergoing repairs in the harbor, its keel damaged by the impact. But Jiang Chen's eyes were already turned inland, toward the Desert of Silence.
"It is a graveyard of cultivation," Ye Bai warned, tracing the map on the table. "The desert sand contains Null-Stone dust. It grounds spiritual energy. A fireball dissipates in inches. A flying sword falls like a rock. No Sect goes there. It is death."
"For you, maybe," Jiang Chen said, looking at the blueprint of his next vehicle. "But my machines don't run on spirit. They run on combustion."
He turned to the holographic display.
"The Kunpeng is too heavy to risk a crash. We go by ground. But we need something that can carry supplies for a month and punch through a sandstorm."
The hologram flickered, building a shape. It wasn't a tank. It was a moving city block on treads.
[Project: The Land Train.][Codename: "The Pioneer".][Length: 100 meters. Power: Twin Diesel-Electric Locomotives.]
"Build it," Jiang Chen ordered. "We leave in three days."
The transition from the lush coast to the arid interior was jarring. The trees withered, replaced by scrub brush, and finally, by endless dunes of red sand that whispered in the wind.
"The Pioneer" roared across the dunes, throwing up a cloud of dust that could be seen for miles. It was a behemoth—a lead locomotive encased in spiked armor, pulling ten heavy cargo cars. It moved on massive caterpillar tracks, crushing rocks and scorpions alike.
Inside the engine room, Chief Engineer Liang, a mortal who used to fix watches in Beiluo, wiped grease from his face. He checked the gauges.
"Temp stable. Oil pressure good," Liang shouted over the engine noise to his crew. "Keep the intake filters clear! This dust eats pistons!"
In the passenger car behind the engine, the atmosphere was tense.
Ye Bai sat by the window. He looked pale. As they traveled deeper into the desert, he felt his Dantian—the core of his power—going quiet. The connection to the Heavens was being severed by the Null-Stone in the air.
He tried to summon a small sword of Qi on his finger. It sputtered and vanished like a candle in a gale.
"I feel... heavy," Ye Bai whispered. "Is this how mortals feel all the time?"
"Heavier," Jiang Chen said. He was sitting opposite the Sword Saint, calibrating his mechanical arm. The reactor in his chest was humming louder, fighting the suppression, but because the energy was contained in a closed tungsten loop, it was unaffected by the atmospheric dampening.
"You feel the weight of your own biology, Ye Bai," Jiang Chen said. "Without the crutch of Qi, you are just a man with good reflexes."
Ye Bai looked at Engineer Liang, who walked through the car whistling, carrying a heavy toolbox.
"He is not affected," Ye Bai noted with a frown.
"He relies on leverage and torque," Jiang Chen said. "The desert doesn't care about leverage. Physics works the same here as it does on the moon. In this place, the mechanic is stronger than the mage."
Suddenly, the train lurched. The emergency brakes squealed.
SCREEECH.
"Contact front!" The intercom blared. "Obstruction on the track!"
Jiang Chen grabbed his helmet. "Suit up. Ye Bai, stay here. You're a liability out there."
Ye Bai's eyes narrowed. "I am the Sword Saint. I do not hide in a carriage." He grabbed his sword and followed Jiang Chen out the airlock.
The heat hit them like a hammer. The desert sun was blinding.
Stopping the Land Train was a line of statues. They were twelve feet tall, made of sandstone and bronze, holding massive stone halberds.
Ancient Guardians.
As the dust settled, the statues' eyes glowed with a dull, red light. They weren't powered by atmospheric Qi; they were powered by internal cores, ancient clockwork and runic batteries from the Pre-Era.
"Intruders..." a grinding voice emitted from the leader. "Identify."
"Imperial Industries," Jiang Chen said, his voice amplified. "Move, or be moved."
The Guardian didn't negotiate. It lunged, the stone halberd swinging down with enough force to crush a tank.
Ye Bai moved on instinct. He stepped forward to parry. "Deflect!"
He swung his sword.
CLANG.
But there was no Qi to reinforce his arms. No spiritual energy to lighten the enemy's blow.
The stone halberd hit Ye Bai's sword. The impact shocked his bones. He was thrown backward, skidding through the sand, coughing up blood.
"My strength..." Ye Bai gasped, trying to stand. His legendary technique meant nothing without the supernatural force to back it up.
The Guardian raised its halberd for the killing blow.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A stream of heavy caliber tracers tore into the Guardian's chest. The sandstone shattered. The bronze gears inside sparked and seized.
On top of the Land Train, Gunner Zhao, a former farmer, wrestled with the twin-mounted .50 Caliber Machine Guns.
"Chew on this, you rocks!" Zhao screamed, swinging the turret.
The heavy rounds pulverized the Guardian, blowing its head off. It toppled backward, crashing into the sand.
"Ronin Squad! Advance!"
From the cargo cars, the mortal soldiers deployed. They wore Mark II Environmental Suits. They didn't use swords. They used RPGs and Anti-Material Rifles.
"Clear the lane!"
WHOOSH.
Three rockets streaked across the sand. They hit the line of Guardians.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
It was a massacre. The ancient constructs were built to fight cultivators—to absorb spells and parry Qi blades. They were not built to withstand high-explosive shaped charges designed to penetrate tank armor.
Ye Bai sat in the sand, watching. He saw a mortal soldier, a boy no older than twenty, reload a rocket launcher calmly while a giant stone monster charged him. The boy didn't panic. He aimed. He fired. The monster exploded.
Jiang Chen walked over to Ye Bai. The hydraulic pistons in his legs hissed as he knelt.
"You see?" Jiang Chen offered a metal hand. "Qi is a luxury. Steel is a constant."
Ye Bai took the hand. He looked at his chipped sword, then at the smoking barrel of the machine gun on the train.
"I am... obsolete here," Ye Bai whispered.
"No," Jiang Chen pulled him up. "You are just using the wrong tool. Come on. The library is waiting."
They pushed deeper into the desert. The train finally stopped at the coordinates: a massive, inverted pyramid half-buried in the sand.
The entrance was sealed with a puzzle—a complex array of shifting geometric tiles.
"A formation?" Ye Bai asked, wiping sand from his eyes. "I cannot sense the key."
"It's not a formation," Jiang Chen scanned it with his optical sensor. "It's a keypad."
He walked up to the door. He didn't use magic. He used the decryption algorithm from his System.
BEEP-CLICK.
The massive stone doors hissed open, releasing stale air that had been trapped for ten thousand years.
Inside, rows of databanks—stone tablets etched with metallic circuitry—lined the walls. And in the center, resting on a pedestal, was a single, metallic book.
[Item Identified: The Codex of the Machine God.][Era: The Silicon Dynasty (12,000 years ago).]
Jiang Chen walked up to the book. He opened it.
It wasn't text. It was blueprints.
Blueprints for things that made the Land Train look like a toy.
Walking Citadels.
Atmospheric Processors.
The God-Killer Cannon.
"This isn't just a library," Jiang Chen realized, his green eye glowing intensely. "It's a factory reset for the world."
But as he touched the book, the shadows in the room lengthened.
"You are not the first to seek the Old Ways," a voice whispered from the darkness.
Stepping out from behind the databanks was not a Guardian. It was a man. He wore robes made of copper wire and glass. His eyes were replaced by red lenses.
"I am Magister Gear of the Heavenly Craft Sect," the man said, aiming a strange, clockwork crossbow at Jiang Chen. "My sect has sought this place for generations. We rely on mechanics, not Qi. This legacy belongs to us."
Jiang Chen looked at the crossbow. It was wind-up. Primitive.
He looked at his own chest reactor.
"You rely on gears, Magister," Jiang Chen said, the Vibro-Blade sliding out of his arm. "I rely on the atom. We are not the same."