Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

Rohingyu himself tied a black cloth to his forehead and handed two black cloths to Gus and Grey.

Many believers gazed at the two brothers.

Both brothers looked at each other and picked up the black cloth and tied it to their foreheads.

Underground space, full of joy.

“Cannon! Cannon! ”

Someone shouted.

Along with a thunderous drum, a steam cannon made up of countless steam balls, pipes, gears and chains, like a giant steel beast, was pushed out of a secret warehouse by nearly a hundred muscularly strong men.

Ro Xinglong pulled his two brothers, stepped on his gear and climbed onto the steam cannon.

“Do it! ”

He drinks briskly.

……

It's destined to be a sleepless night.

It was the most important and most tragic day in Ganyuan City in 10,000 years.

Starting in the morning, a large group of loyal Iron Fist fighters, affiliated with the Temple of Fist, stormed across the streets and alleyways.

They cast iron fists with copper, blowing the doors of households after households, suddenly the chicken dog jumped, the crying array.

From time to time, there was a punched-up, blue-faced people suspected of being evil believers, dragged away as if they were dead dogs, only on rough bluestone slabs, leaving a striking bloodstain.

The scene of this city-wide raid was very noisy. In the afternoon, the streets and alleys were all talked about. Almost all the people knew about the rampant mechanics and steam religion, and they reminisced about the lightning in the sky and the birth of the legendary "Son” and “Virgin". At one time, the crowd spoke of it, and the atmosphere was frightened and ominous. The atmosphere swept over the city as if it were haze.

And a lot of mixed up in the crowd, the shady guy, in the eye exchange, gathered together, listened to each other, and discussed what was going on.

These people are spreading like viruses and gathering together in silence, as if trickling streams were converging into an ocean about to unleash a terrible wave.

It was too late to wait until the Temple of Fist found out something was wrong and tried to issue a restraining order to keep the whole city at home.

Towards dusk ten, and behold!

“Whoo!”

“Whoo-hoo! ”

More than a dozen places in the city, in a high chimney, suddenly a sharp whistle sounds!

The steam-powered whistle, which emits a tsunami through the cloud crack, is an ancient, never-before-before-before-before-before-brained demonic sound in the world of boxing.

The voice spread across the city in an instant, creepy but irresistible heat, as if to see the old world collapse and the light of the new world descend.

A whistle is an order.

A while ago, the mechanical and steam teammates who had secretly gathered in Ganyuancheng South Grain Bin, led by the bald giant "Tyrone”, jumped out and went mad to attack the grain bin.

Those who guard the granary are naturally the elite generals of the Iron Fist Army.

But in the way of faith, it is impossible for them to use long-range weapons such as bows and arrows, crossbows, stone throwers, etc., only to watch the red-eyed fanatics form a black-pressed tide and crush them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! ”

After all, they are still fanatics. They will not talk to the Iron Fist Army about the style of short-sighted soldiers. Everyone is holding a double-crossbow. During the attack, everyone fires at least a dozen or twenty crossbows. The arrows are also coated with purple phosphorus that burns when the wind sees them. The arrow rods are also soaked in tongue oil and extremely flammable.

As a result, crossbows burned in the middle of the sky, turning them into meteor showers and smashing their heads off.

Rao is the Iron Fist Army of the town's granary guard, all reinforced steel, also possesses protective qi, and is also overwhelmed by these rockets.

Not to mention the many crossbows that landed behind them in the grain bin, which gradually became a fire and became impenetrable.

And after firing a round of crossbows, the fanatics couldn't get back on the strings and simply threw down the crossbows and put up the kerosene barrel behind them made of thick bamboo wood.

These cylinders are filled with kerosene, which is mechanically pressurized to give off 350 lengths of kerosene by gently pressing the wrench below.

Dozens of fanatics swept simultaneously with a cylinder, a large amount of dark oil like torrential rain poured on the Iron Fist Army, and on the granary gates and walls behind them. They could not be thrown off or washed away at all. The tiny flame almost instantly grew into a firecracker dragon, pouring towards the Iron Fist Army.

Poor Iron Fist Army, struggling to repair steel for more than a decade or even decades, does not differ much from ordinary people in the face of the power of fuelling the fire.

Many Iron Fist armies scream, unconsciously run and roll, deflect the ground full of fire oil, their struggle can only aggravate the fire and continue to expand until they burn themselves into a carbon sphere.

There are also masters in the Iron Fist Army, aware of the danger for the first time, taking advantage of the fast lightning, jumping high and avoiding the attacks of crossbows and fire oil.

But such a master, after all, is a minority of the minority - because the temple of boxing forbids machines and steam related products, the vast majority of the Iron Fist Army has not even seen the crossbow arrows, not to mention what the fire oil cylinder is, and seeing the bamboo cylinder carried by the fanatics, who would have thought it was such a poisonous murder weapon?

And these masters, who escape crossbows and fire oil attacks, face another kind of exterminating weapon, the high-pressure steam gun.

- Use steam balloon storage to compress to the ultimate steam, then connect to a sealed steel pipe filled with metal bullets, then fill the void with fine soft items such as feathers.

With such a high-pressure steam gun aimed at the enemy, pulling the trigger, and instantly releasing the high-pressure steam, metal bullets will erupt like magma, like shotguns in another world, hitting extremely hard.

Tyrone's brave death squad is ready.

A year and a half ahead of schedule, they worked out how to take down the granary.

There is also a very careful understanding of the Iron Fist masters who guard the area.

A dozen steam guns fired at different angles, almost blocking all the way to the Iron Fist.

Suddenly, several masters were shot with a hundred holes of sores. Whatever the reason, they were bombarded with steam power.

Even if the steel bars preserve their lives, hundreds of metal bullets embedded in the flesh and even bones still hurt them screaming and screaming, life is worse than death, and they are basically incapacitated.

Tyrone took advantage of the momentum to lead a large number of death squad members into the burning grain bin, adding a little frenzy to the fire.

By the time more Iron Fist troops came to reinforce us from all sides, the granary had been burned to pieces, and the smoke that rose was like hundreds of black dragon plates over Ganyuan City. The people of the city and the priests in the temple of the fist were terrified!