For a moment, the crowd was in an uproar.
Many devout believers of the Fist God pulled out their fists and glared at him.
Some of them were frightened by the arrogance of the believers of machines and steam in front of the statue of the Fist God in broad daylight.
Not far away, a team of guards with bulging temples pushed the crowd aside and charged at the infidel.
The guy ignored them and continued shouting the slogans of the heretics recklessly while tossing paper nonstop.
The paper fell down like snowflakes.
Most of the devout believers were scared of the paper and avoided it as if it were poisonous.
But there were also a few people who could not resist the temptation of curiosity. They secretly grabbed the paper, glanced at it, and quickly threw it aside. Then, they stepped on it as if nothing had happened to prove their innocence.
Gus swallowed his saliva and secretly grabbed one as well.
The paper was very rough. There were a few simple words on it, which meant, "The old god is dead, and a new god is to be established."
But there was also a picture of the so-called "Church of Steam" printed below. It was an enormous steam engine that drove eight mechanical arms like a raging iron troll.
The picture was quite delicate. The lines were very thin and crisscrossed. Even on the rough paper, the ink did not bleed.
Gus looked at it and saw the same picture on other pieces of paper.
He folded the two pieces of paper with the tip of his foot. The two pictures were exactly the same. Every line matched.
It meant that the picture was not drawn.
It had been printed on by a printing machine.
Gus had seen something similar to a printing machine in his father's notes. It was a large machine with a precise structure.
The infidel was actually capable of hiding a printing machine in Qianyuan City. This knowledge made Gus' heart skip a beat.
At this moment, the guards had already swarmed forward and pressed the guy who was distributing the flyers to the ground.
Like a few bears crushing a sheep, the guy was almost crushed to death.
But this guy really had the spirit of not giving up until he was dead. Crushed by hundreds of kilograms of muscle, he was still shouting recklessly.
However, his shrill and thin shouts had completely lost their meaning. He was like a man whose tongue had been cut off and was uttering the most vicious curses to the heavens.
Gus and Grey looked at each other.
They looked at the sky again.
It was daytime now.
However, the crack in the sky that was visible even in the Red Gold Town was becoming more and more obvious, like a gigantic smiling mouth that was mocking the Fist God's powerlessness.
"This world is about to collapse."
For some reason, Gus recalled Lu Qingchen's words.
He didn't know if the world would collapse, but the followers of the Machine and Steam Sect were indeed becoming more and more rampant, and the control of the Fist God Palace was indeed becoming weaker and weaker.
Gus and Grey watched the leaflet-giver being dragged away by the guards.
A long and thick trail of blood was left on the ground.
A guard came forward to check everyone's identification.
Because he rarely used machines and did not like to use tools, the identification in the God of Fist's world was very crude. It was nothing more than a piece of bamboo with his name and hometown carved on it.
Gus and Grey had already stolen passersby's ID and forged it.
What was more troublesome was their appearance. During this critical period, a pair of siblings coming to Qianyuan City would definitely attract attention.
Regarding this, Lu Qingchen had also disguised them. He merely blew a breath on their faces, and they were completely unrecognizable. They were two tanned hill-dwellers, and Gus appeared to be much older than Grey, which was completely different from his real appearance.
The guards' attention was all on the leaflet-giver. It was only a routine check for the bystanders to see if they were hiding any leaflet-givers.
Gus and Grey each carried a large basket that was filled with mountain products. They stuffed the steam ball where Lu Qingchen was hiding and the precious notes left by their father into the bellies of the chickens and ducks.
The guards checked them casually and waved their hands to let them go.
The two of them squeezed into Qianyuan City with the bustling crowd.
Although Qianyuan City was a big city in the north, it was not very prosperous.
Or rather, none of the cities in the God of Fist's world could be called "prosperous".
That was because the people in this world were simple and hardworking. They were not interested in extravagance and debauchery.
Passing through the city gate, they found that the most eye-catching landmark in the entire Qianyuan Town was the Fist Temple, which was as magnificent as a palace.
The Fist Temple was surrounded by hundreds of boxing clubs and dojos. There were arenas and arenas in the front and back of the temple.
Those who were training, those who were challenging, those who were sparring, and those who were teaching … The blood and sweat of thousands of tall, muscular men gathered into raging red clouds in midair.
The muscles collided with each other brutally, producing cracking noises. It was the most sacred music of the path of the Iron Fist.
Other than the Fist Temple and the clubs, there were a lot of weird-looking guys on the street.
Their clothes were often ragged, and some of them were even covered in dirt. But their eyes were glittering, and they were surrounded by powerful auras. They sat cross-legged on the roadside with a board in front of them, on which their background, level, and the Cultivation arts they were good at were written.
They were all wandering boxers who traveled in the God of Fist's world, making friends with each other, exchanging Cultivation arts, and increasing their knowledge.
Now and then, somebody would step forward and challenge the wandering boxers. Naturally, they were beaten black and blue, but they were not angry at all. Instead, they burst into laughter and put their arms around each other's shoulders, as if they had truly become bosom friends who hadn't met for years.
Some of the weirdos would kneel on the street after every step and bash their heads on the ground brutally.
Boom!
Their heads were fine, but the rocks on the street were dented by them. Cracks spread out like a spider web.
Gus had heard that those guys were all ascetics who had made great vows in front of the Fist God. They tortured their bodies to purify their minds and listen to the voice of the Fist God.
The guys who bashed their heads on the ground had probably practiced the Iron Head Art. It was impossible that the Iron Head Art did not work out if they walked thousands of kilometers on the road while bashing their heads on the ground.
In the past, Gus had admired the ascetics very much. He even thought that he would become an ascetic one day and move the Fist God with his sincerity to change his fate.
Right now, after witnessing the power of the storm bolters and the Vulcan Machine Guns, Gus only felt like sneering when he looked at the ascetics.
Other than the clubs, the shops along the street were basically only used for two purposes.
The first type was the restaurants. The fighters were muscular, so their appetites were naturally not small. A meal of three to five catties of beef and three to five catties of steamed buns was a piece of cake. Therefore, there were more restaurants here than the fighters, and their scale was not small.
The second one was the shops that sold plasters and weapons. Plasters were necessities for training. Although the weapons such as sabers, swords, and bows were despised by the experts, they were still necessary for the old, the weak, and the young to defend themselves.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
