The plunder of the heavens begins with the Spirit Cage.

The researchers quickly adjusted their mindset, input the design program of the current individual electromagnetic rifle, and filled the feed port with half a bag of materials.

Everyone stared at the progress bar on the device's screen, watching it slowly move forward.

In less than a minute, the small door on the side of the device popped open, and a brand-new, shiny electromagnetic rifle with a matte black finish fell out.

Chen Heng stepped forward, picked it up, and weighed it in his hand. It was a full third lighter than the original mass-produced model, and the grip was just right.

He walked to the firing position, set up his gun, and pulled the trigger at a homogeneous steel plate ten centimeters thick, a kilometer away.

With a low, muffled thud, the bullet pierced through the steel plate and blasted a crater the size of a bowl into the granite wall behind it.

"The precision is sufficient! The power is sufficient!"

The cost is less than one-eighth of the original gun manufacturing cost!

This is practically like carrying the entire arsenal around on your back!

"Mr. Lu, what you have given us is a magical artifact that can turn the tide of the entire battle!"

Please feel free to make any requests you may have, as long as they don't involve humanitarian issues!

Lu Qianwei laughed, "I really don't need you to provide anything... Why is it that no one believes me when I tell the truth?"

"Oh well, I won't bother you anymore."

After reviewing this information, you'll know whether it's true or false.

"My stay is over, goodbye!"

"Oh, by the way, you can have that spaceship outside."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lu Qianwei's figure disappeared from the public eye, leaving behind a group of people who were still in shock.

Chapter 262 The Long Sword and the Storm

Lu Qianwei is gone, but his journey has not stopped.

"Is it another remote mountain forest?"

Looking at the pristine, verdant environment, Lu Qianwei felt he had already gotten used to it.

He first closed the time portal, then deployed several Terminators and robot dogs as guards, before choosing a direction and heading off.

Qianwei was now quite experienced at navigating the forest road, and it didn't take him long to emerge from the mountains and see a small village in the distance.

He stepped out of the forest edge, the dirt road stretching out beneath his feet, leading to the scattered houses.

The village was even more dilapidated than he had expected. Many of the wooden walls of the stilt houses were crooked, and the roofs were covered with uneven, rusted iron sheets. In some places, they were patched up with plastic sheeting. The style of the houses and the overall state of desolation made Lu Qianwei think of a village from the 1970s or 1980s.

"Did it really take me back to the 80s?"

With these questions in mind, Lu Qianwei entered the village.

It was afternoon, but the village was unusually quiet, with only the tireless chirping of cicadas.

A few elderly people sat in the shade under the stilt houses or squatted on the eaves, their skin a dark brown from sun and rain, covered with wrinkles, and their eyes cloudy.

They wore simple sarongs or old T-shirts and silently watched the uninvited guest.

Occasionally, middle-aged men and women would flash by, their skin darker, their bodies lean, and their movements carrying the weariness of long hours of labor.

They glanced at Lu Qianwei with great wariness, after all, people dressed so well wouldn't come to a village like this.

young people?

I didn't see a single one.

Lu Qianwei frowned. If it weren't for the women and children in the village, he would have thought it was a bandit's den.

Because not far away, he actually saw an old man take out a hunting rifle.

Anyone who saw Lu Qianwei's attire, which was out of place with his surroundings, would find it jarring.

As he approached the huge, gnarled tree at the village entrance, two people emerged from the shadows behind it.

One was a man in his fifties, thin and short, with high cheekbones, wearing a faded printed short shirt and a knee-length sarong, barefoot, with dried mud spots on his calves.

He held a machete in his hand; the blade was thick and heavy, and the edge gleamed coldly in the light filtering through the leaves.

The other one was slightly older, with gray and curly hair, a darker complexion, and wearing a faded plaid shirt. His eyes were sharp and cautious, like someone with some prestige in the village who could make decisions.

The two of them stood side by side, blocking the not-so-wide dirt road.

The lean man spoke first, his voice hoarse with a heavy local accent, his tone harsh: "Halt! Dongbang refugees!"

Where did you come from? What brings you here?!

Refugees from the East?

Lu Qianwei maintained a safe distance, looking puzzled, and pointed to himself: "Are people like me called refugees from Dongbang?"

Lu Qianwei was very puzzled. These people all spoke Chinese, yet they referred to Easterners as refugees.

So who is actually in charge here?

What is the name of your country?

Lu Qianwei's question carried the ruthlessness of years of leading troops, and this aura made the short, thin man holding the knife pause for a moment.

Especially when Lu Qianwei looked over, the man almost instinctively wanted to answer.

"Outsider!" The old man in the plaid shirt spoke softly, but he cut off the man's words.

"Outsider, I can answer your question."

But we asked you first.

You haven't answered yet, where did you come from?

What do you want to do with this thought?

The short, thin man, Alai, realized he had just lost his composure and immediately became ashamed and angry.

This made him feel particularly embarrassed, especially in front of the other villagers who had quietly gathered around.

In an attempt to save face, he swung his machete forward with a sudden, sharp motion, the blade flashing through the air. He deliberately raised his voice and roared in an even more ferocious tone, "Damn it!"

"We're asking you a question! Who do you think you are, a refugee from the East, to dare ask us such a question?!"

"explain!

Are you a spy sent by those 'scavenging dogs' on the other side of the river?

Or are they just scum from those 'Iguana gang' in the mountains?

They dress so well, who knows what kind of wicked schemes are lurking beneath!

His roar sounded particularly jarring in the village, and it was like a signal.

The villagers who had initially been spying sporadically now emerged from behind stilted houses, banana groves, and even nearby thatched huts.

Most of the men were armed with simple weapons: machetes, sharpened bamboo spears, and woodcutting knives. There were even two old hunting rifles that were raised. Although the dark muzzles of the guns were not explicitly pointed at Lu Qianwei, the threat was self-evident.

The women, pulling along the few children they had, quickly retreated to the back of the house, leaving only their angry eyes visible.

It seems this village has many secrets. Their wariness and rejection of outsiders suggests something fishy is going on.

In just a few dozen seconds, twenty or thirty villagers with unfriendly expressions had gathered in front of Lu Qianwei, blocking his path forward and backward, and the atmosphere instantly turned icy.

Lu Qianwei's gaze swept over the sallow, emaciated faces with fierce eyes, and over the deadly weapons. His last bit of patience was completely worn away.

It's true what they say, bad people come from bad water!

"I just got lost and came here because I wanted to ask for directions."

"Hmph, lost?"

"Nobody believes you!" Alai interrupted him sharply before he could finish, eager to show off his bravery. "You walked through a forest full of poisonous insects and wild beasts without a single scratch on your body, and your clothes are clean. Do you think we're three-year-olds?"

"Seize him! Search him and see what he's carrying!"

At his command, the villagers who had been eyeing his clothes could no longer contain themselves and immediately charged forward, brandishing bamboo spears and machetes!

Their movements were rough and chaotic, but they had the advantage of being numerous and powerful, and they carried a kind of ruthlessness that they had developed from struggling to survive in harsh environments for a long time.

Lu Qianwei also made a move.

His movements didn't seem fast, even somewhat casual, but in the eyes of the villagers, they seemed to leave afterimages.

The first villager who rushed forward had just thrust his bamboo spear when a sharp pain shot through his wrist, as if it had been clamped by iron clamps. Then, he was spun around by an irresistible force and hurled like a broken sack at the two men rushing towards him.

"Bang! Ouch!"

Screams and the sound of bodies colliding rang out almost simultaneously. The three men rolled around in a heap, their bamboo spears and machetes flying out of their hands.

Lu Qianwei's figure had already slipped into the crowd like a ghost.

He dodged a cleaver that came slashing at him from the side, and with a quick elbow strike, the man groaned and collapsed to the ground, clutching his ribs.

He sidestepped a bamboo spear thrusting straight at him, grabbed the shaft, pushed it forward, and then pulled it to the side. The spearman staggered and fell, knocking over another man holding a machete in the process.

Every move he made, every strike he made, was precise, concise, and effective. There were no unnecessary frills, yet he always managed to evade attacks with minimal effort and incapacitate his attackers with just the right amount of force.

Fists, palms, elbows, knees—every part of the body becomes a weapon, yet it is skillfully controlled to a degree that will not cause fatal damage.

The villagers' angry roars, the sound of weapons cutting through the air, and the cries of pain and the sounds of people falling to the ground mingled together, creating a chaotic scene.

Alai was dumbfounded; he hadn't expected this seemingly unremarkable stranger to be so powerful.

He roared, gripped the heavy cleaver tightly with both hands, and slashed down with all his might at Lu Qianwei's back!

This strike was accompanied by the sound of wind, and it was powerful and heavy.

As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Lu Qianwei slightly turned his body just as the blade was about to strike him, and the blade grazed the corner of his clothes.

At the same time, he pivoted on his left foot and his right leg shot back like a whip, striking Alai's wrist precisely.

Clang!

The machete flew out of his hand and landed far on the ground.

Alai clutched his wrist, which had swelled up instantly and was throbbing with excruciating pain. He screamed and staggered back several steps, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

The old man, who had been watching coldly with his hunting rifle in hand, finally changed his expression.

He could tell that Lu Qianwei's skills were far beyond ordinary, and he might not even be an ordinary soldier or mercenary.