Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

This weapon weighs only about 2,700 kilograms.

Only 2,700 kilograms.

"……never mind."

Milan had some idea about the weapons: the stone axe was only a stopgap measure. Although it provided a minimum amount of damage due to its weight, even disregarding how the "MC attack power" he hadn't yet discovered manifested, the material of the stone itself meant that it couldn't really participate in combat.

The stone axe blade is fine for chopping down trees, but when it comes to clashing with armored soldiers, its durability drops rapidly. He could even imagine that the stone axe had been successful in battles so far because its terrifying weight generated such intimidating kinetic energy that no one had ever actually fought it head-on.

If it were a skilled "single-handed rock-splitting" expert that could be found anywhere in Terra, it probably wouldn't take more than two strikes for his six-ton ​​axe to deliver a dramatic, battlefield-wide death.

The stone axe will eventually need to be replaced.

He didn't believe that such an important power indicator as "attack power" would have no impact on reality.

—I don't want to think about it anymore.

Although he had some reservations, with the new equipment in hand and the complete makeover, and feeling the tangible sense of security that this new gear brought, he nodded, his heart filled with the satisfaction of a craftsman.

—Now that I have “a straight stick” in my hand, and I also know that “the rapeseed flowers next door are in full bloom”…

So now, shouldn't we do something?

He weighed the spear in his hand, his eyes gradually turning cold.

"Iron foundry"

The "Iron Foundry" is not actually a place that produces cast iron. In fact, the factory area is not officially called by this name, because this name is only used in the underground area of ​​Chernobog, in places where the light does not reach or where the light does not want to be seen.

On the surface, this place seems to be just an ordinary company factory with its own waste recycling station, its own sorting and recycling workshop, and even ordinary workers going to and from work.

Although the workers might find the factory's security measures a bit odd... well, what does it matter?

In Ursus, where violence and brawling are commonplace, it's not entirely incomprehensible that a boss with gang connections and some unruly subordinates would work as security guards on his territory.

They don't understand, they don't care.

So much so that they were unaware that beneath this factory area called the "Iron Foundry," there was another secret workshop with a completely different appearance.

The air here is thick and suffocating, mixed with pungent Originium dust and the acrid smell of poorly made smelted metal; in addition, there is a strong, decomposed human body odor mixed with a barely perceptible smell of blood.

The only thing that could be considered humane in this place is the bright Originium lamps overhead.

Under the light of the Originium lamps, the figures were mechanically busy. Most of them were not exactly clean, wearing dirty dust masks, but there were still some places where black Originium crystals were exposed.

Occasionally, someone moves a little slower... or in fact, no one moves slowly at all (I) O Qiba 4 7 Shi Wu Lu Qun Huan, and then the loudspeaker on the wall will burst out with the rough voice of more than one person.

"*Ursus swear word*! Haven't you eaten?! Hurry up!"

"Do you still want your food for today?!"

"Let me tell you, if you don't meet your targets and get reprimanded from above, you'll make up for all the losses I've suffered by taking them from you!"

A young man gripped his tool tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, and his body trembling slightly; but someone immediately stopped him—in this place, it didn't matter who was infected or not, only that they were Ursus people who had arrived before him—and said in a low, hoarse voice:

"Don't be impulsive... Just bear with it."

"But they..."

The young man, silenced by a look, gritted his teeth, but his senior's eyes no longer held any anger, only a numb emptiness.

"A bunch of bastards!"

The voice from the loudspeaker was laced with undisguised mockery: "He only deserves to rot in a place like this... and he dares to have a temper? Ha, that kid's rations for today can be fed to the dogs."

"You weren't dealt with quickly enough! Let me tell you, stop with your useless tricks. If you keep dawdling, it won't just be you today; nobody will get any food!"

The instinct for survival ultimately prevailed over anger... or perhaps the despairing reality prevailed over anger: everyone present was an Ursus person, so they were more aware of another thing—they had become infected, and what was the status of the infected in Ursus?

Even if no one cares and lets them run away, and they go to the police station to report the crime, the police won't believe them—instead, they will just use force to suppress these "lowly infected people" and send them to mines that are no better than this place to die.

There is no difference, they are all the same.

So even if the flames of rebellion were ignited, they couldn't burn for long before being extinguished by cruel reality—the young people no longer gritted their teeth, but simply lowered their heads and hid their expressions; once again, only the monotonous roar of machines and the sound of tools colliding remained in the workshop, deathly silent and filled with despair.

——Boom boom boom.

Just then, a slight, unusual yet regular knocking sound came from an unknown direction; the workers nearby paused, looking up in confusion.

Their strange actions also drew the attention of those around them. As more people stopped, the noise decreased, making the strange sound seem even clearer.

This also allowed the other side of the surveillance camera to see their strange behavior.

"What are you guys up to? No slacking off!"

"Did you all hear me! Get back to work! You bunch of lazybones!"

"Do you want to die?!"

His voice echoed through the workshop through the loudspeaker, but it couldn't drown out the real sound; the workers heard it now: it wasn't the roar of the machines, the sound of airflow from the pipes, or their hallucinations.

Something was getting closer, making the thumping sound clearer and more obvious.

Then—栮1揪刘三陾—

"Boom!"

On a wall that seemed to have no way out... there was no explosion, no heavy pounding.

Only accompanied by what seemed like an extremely faint, ordinary cracking sound... on that wall, in a neatly shaped square area, the matter inside simply vanished into thin air.

A dark, gaping tunnel entrance was revealed... and a glint of cold silver light.

Chapter 55 - The First Step

The sound of the wall collapsing was not loud.

There was no breakage of materials, no dust scattering, and even the dust that was stirred up was just indoor dust being sucked back by the airflow.

However, what is revealed at the gap in the wall is not the planned structure of a "passage", but the flickering firelight deep inside the passage, the faint firelight illuminating the rough filling material on all four sides.

That was definitely not a passageway left during the construction of the mobile city, and even this black workshop itself was not in the architectural plan of the mobile city - it was undoubtedly a secret workshop built by the powerful to cover up the illegal excavation of the structural layer for the purpose of gray income.

In a place where the surroundings should be solid supporting material, where would there be any roads?

However, those who witnessed this scene, including the workers and the monitors behind the cameras, had no time to pay attention to such details: because in front of the flickering firelight, a figure was leaping out of the passageway and landing lightly on the ground.

The pale, bright light of the Originium Lamp fell from the sky.

The silver-gray metallic parts of his body reflected a cold light, which especially highlighted the deep, dark molten stone; his stature was not tall by Ursus standards, and even with armor, he was only so.

But for a moment, everyone present seemed to be enveloped by a certain atmosphere, and no one dared to speak.

—It's even worse than the image of a wine cage, a dead dam, or a Japanese elephant.

Milan's gaze swept across the entire field through the visor of his helmet.

Visible dust particles were suspended in the air, and even under bright, cold light, they could not exhibit the Tyndall effect, appearing only as a dense cloud of dust. The people here were called workers, but they did not even have uniform work clothes; their clothes were worn and dirty from countless hours of arduous work.

Even not far away, separated by at most a curtain, what is vaguely visible behind it... is probably the living conditions they have here.

Their job description is so simple that it's easy to understand at a glance:

Milan read about the Originium setting in "The Journey of the Earth". Naturally occurring Originium has a smooth and hard crystalline outer shell, and the mineral core inside is the energy material for further processing. The crystal strength of the outer shell and the outermost solidified Originium is astonishing. During the processing, accidents such as milling cutters or saw blades, as well as unevenly distributed Originium fragments, often break.

In addition, the Originium dust that is easily scattered during this process constitutes the biggest safety threat to the initial processing of Originium ore. In most regular Originium ore processing plants, this process requires targeted processing equipment, comprehensive personal protective equipment, and high welfare benefits.

But for less formal investors... this is probably the situation we see right now—it's just that ordinary people often can't imagine how despicable humans can be. Whether it's literature or games, it's hard to imagine the extent of what humans have actually done.

Milan never underestimated, nor did he ever entertain the idea of ​​exonerating slavery.

Milan simply believed that neither slavery nor capital was a good thing—capital without threats and restraint could go astray, and 17th-century England, widely recognized as a "pioneer of civilization," was a good example; as for the specific atrocities they committed…

That's a bit hard to say; if you say it directly, it's likely to get rejected by the censors.

"You...who are you?"

A worker nearby asked a question in a trembling voice, finally bringing him back to his senses from a brief moment of thought; the visor with its embedded armor obscured his face, making it impossible to see his specific expression, causing the workers to instinctively take a step back when he turned his face.

Milan, however, paid no attention to this detail.

"Those who wish to leave can depart via this road."

He raised his hand and tapped the wall behind him, the metal gauntlet making a crisp sound against the wall: "Go all the way to the end, then you can run away or stay, it's up to you."

The workers were stunned and didn't move for a moment; long-term oppression and harsh living conditions had dulled their minds, and this sudden change had left their sluggish brains unable to respond.

The supervisors behind the scenes can react faster than the workers.

"Who dares to move! *Ursus profanity* Anyone who dares to move will be met with a single inch!"

"Bastard thing!"

A roar of shock and anger erupted from the surveillance loudspeaker, clearly indicating that someone had reacted. The sharp, static-like roar immediately jolted everyone awake. Even the thugs responsible for security in this shady workshop, or those who disciplined the workers, generally disliked this place and avoided it at all costs. Now, with the overseer's roar, increasingly approaching footsteps could be heard coming from behind the curtain.

—Oh, the road is over there.

Milan turned around.

The workers then realized what was happening, but instead of running towards him, they all slipped away to the corner of the wall—a few seemed eager to try, but were pulled and dragged along by those around them.

—It's not that I can't understand it...

If more people had come, perhaps these people would have had more of the courage of a mob, but since he came alone... Milan sighed and stretched his shoulders.

He wasn't made to wait very long after that.

Footsteps soon came from the workshop entrance, followed by a clanging sound of metal moving. Five or six burly men, armed with various weapons and wearing full protective suits, stormed in. They were taken aback when they saw the broken wall and Milan, but their long-standing arrogance made them immediately rush forward, cursing.

To be fair, these guys are pretty brave: their gleaming armor is right there in front of them... Have they been through so many battles with ordinary people who lack the ability to fight back that they can't even see the difference in strength between the two sides?

"How dare he cause trouble here... kill him! Kill him!"

"Those slaves who dare to run away, kill them without mercy!"

Their shouts were so clear, and the sound of their weapons whistling as they swung down made those pressed against the wall tremble involuntarily; Milan nodded thoughtfully and said softly, "Oh..."

“A slave.”

He raised his hand.

To dig a road, he didn't use a weapon, but a dusty stone pickaxe. This pickaxe looked unremarkable, but it was made of the same composite material as a stone axe. The six-ton ​​weight tumbled in his palm as he swung the pickaxe, stirring the air and producing a dull groan.

--call!

There wasn't even a crisp metallic clang of a block!

The force was so immense that no one could resist it. The blunt weapon the thugs used to discipline the workers flew out of their hands and hit the wall with a series of clanging sounds.

They themselves couldn't hold their weapons properly, and their wrists were bruised and their hands were torn open, a pitiful sight. Their sneers and arrogant expressions froze on their faces, turning into painful howls in an instant.

"Ok?"

This was the first time Milan had ever used a tool to hit someone... or rather, the first time Milan had ever used equipment other than a "stone axe" to hit someone; of course, it wasn't that he didn't have time to change his equipment, nor could it be that he didn't have a suitable weapon, but he only took out this tool with a huge difference in value from the stone axe to test it in order to understand the meaning and different manifestations of "attack power".

Sure enough, with just that one sweeping motion, he felt a distinct difference in feel between "the same crafted materials, a stone axe with 9 attack power and a stone pickaxe with 3 attack power".

As with all the information he had received before, a tag message appeared in his mind; but Milan didn’t rush to study it—his counterattack was very simple. He didn’t even draw any other weapons, but instead swung his stone pickaxe and smashed it down.

Even when deliberately laid flat, the six-ton ​​stone pickaxe still generated terrifying kinetic energy, instantly slamming the tall Ursus man directly against the wall; his face, covered by a full-body protective suit, was immediately smeared with blood red. His flesh and blood were slightly inferior in the struggle against the wall, and the terrible sounds of bones breaking and shrill screams echoed throughout the underground structure.

With a few thuds, these thugs who usually bullied others were all hung on the wall like paper toys—Milan himself didn't think he had used any lethal force; he just used too much strength, aiming to incapacitate them.

As for these people who still seem to have the energy to howl and even have a strong voice... well, they are truly worthy of being Terrans.

"what--!!!"

crush.

When faced with absolute numerical values, what is displayed is absolute dominance.

The remaining thugs, including Liu Yiqi and his father (four), and those who missed the first wave, finally understood what a disparity in strength meant and recalled what fear was. They let out a scream, turned around, and ran away, escaping from the direction they came from within seconds.

"..."

All of this was clearly seen by the workers and the other end of the monitor. The monitor's loudspeaker fell silent for a moment, seemingly unable to accept such a surreal scene. Milan turned around and looked at his face. Even though they couldn't see his expression, the workers could feel his gaze.

"Walk."

Milan said, "Are you relieved now?"

"!"

The will to survive finally overwhelmed fear and numbness, and hope began to appear in their dulled eyes—the first worker roared and threw down his tools.

Then, on a sudden impulse, he picked it up again, quickened his pace, and ran to the area behind the curtain where their bunks were probably. He rummaged around a few times, then staggered towards the opening. Someone took the lead, and it instantly triggered a chain reaction—when the workers saw that Milan didn't move, they all followed suit, running back to their bunks and rummaging around a couple of times before helping each other rush towards the passage.

That deep, dark passage, with only flickering firelight inside, seemed to them as a path to survival.