"And what if eating it massively boosted your stats?"
After a long pause, Pei Guang coughed and clarified, "Ahem. Qingque, don't misunderstand. These three enemies are special—likely enhanced by some high-grade medicine. For safety reasons, we decided to burn their bodies. The smell? That's just the protein breaking down. Once they're ash, it won't smell good anymore."
Stelle pressed further, her gaze unwavering. "But, Ah Guang, what if the stat boosts were really significant?"
Finally, Pei Guang coughed and spoke with righteous conviction. "Absolutely not! I'm aligned with the Order faction now! Doing something so against the rules? Never!"
March 7th raised an incredulous brow, glancing at their shared inventory space, now brimming with newly acquired food, books, clothes, papers, and trinkets. Something didn't add up—but they were a team, and she wasn't about to call him out.
Stelle shrugged. "Fair enough. Honestly, even though they're called mara-struck, their bodies feel pretty normal—kind of like ordinary Xianzhou people. Long-lived or not, they're still mortal and die when killed. Fighting them feels no different than battling normal monsters or other enemies."
From inside her trash can, Bailu chimed in. "Of course. Xianzhou people may live long, but they're not invincible. They're still flesh and blood—damage their cells enough, and they die. Their endurance might be higher, but the rules of life still apply."
Hearing this, Pei Guang suddenly perked up, eyes gleaming with inspiration. "Wait a second, Bailu! I've got a serious question for you. If a mara-struck soldier were hit by a steamroller—a massive, solid machine about the size of four shipping containers— would they be flattened?"
Bailu leaned on the trash can's edge, thinking. "Of course it would. Mara-struck bodies are just altered human cells infused with the power of the Abundance. They might gain some resilience, but they're still fundamentally flesh and blood. If anything, the infusion might grant a slight immortality-like effect, but they're not unbreakable."
She paused before continuing, "Wait… Why are you asking this? Did you think of something?"
Her analysis clicked something into place for Pei Guang. With a mischievous grin, he muttered, "Got it. Everyone, step back!"
The group instinctively backed away as Pei Guang turned his back to them, summoning his Creation Engine. But instead of launching himself forward with it, he adjusted the massive machine into a punching stance before temporarily dismissing it.
Moments later, he re-summoned the Creation Engine, commanding it to deliver a devastating punch as it materialized. The mechanical giant obeyed, its colossal fist smashing into the ground with a resounding boom that echoed across the Divination Commission.
March 7th tilted her head, curious. "Uh… Ah Guang? Care to explain what that was about?"
Pei Guang smirked. "I realized I'd been stuck in a mental trap. Let me ask you—what's the Creation Engine?"
Stelle raised her hand enthusiastically. "Belobog's rubble-clearing robot. A big machine for construction."
"Exactly," Pei Guang confirmed. "A construction robot. Sure, it's not as efficient in combat as weapons are, but here's the thing—I've been subconsciously separating weapons, equipment, and tools. But in a truly free world, those distinctions don't matter.
"Take this machine: it was designed to clear rubble, but it's massive, heavy, and capable of delivering one heck of a punch. Remember, a standard container can block mara-struck soldiers. This thing's punch weighs several times more than a fully loaded container. Add in the force of its swing…" Pei Guang's eyes sparkled with delight. "Perfect."
Welt adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "In normal circumstances, such large machinery would be difficult to maneuver. While its sheer size and weight might deal significant damage, it would also be an easy target. But in your case, most enemies wouldn't even have time to react."
Even Welt found himself nodding along. He realized he, too, had been misled by conventional thinking. Pei Guang's inventory function—akin to a game's frozen storage—defied real-world logic, allowing for unconventional solutions.
Pei Guang smirked. "Exactly. Now, let's put this theory into action. Who's next?"
Unlike a game's storage system, Pei Guang's inventory adhered to certain "real-world" mechanics. Whatever went in came out the exact same way. According to feedback from the Herta Puppet, the process of entry and exit was instantaneous, with no discernible sensation.
Watching him manipulate the Construct Engine, Welt immediately understood his plan. For a moment, the two exchanged a knowing smile.
Welt had always lamented that his dream of deploying massive robots was impractical on most battlefields. Take the Construct Engine, for instance—it was a colossal target. On an open battlefield, it would be shredded by most modern forces. But what if someone could stealthily summon a giant robot next to an unsuspecting target? Even the most advanced technology wouldn't have time to react. It might not be the most efficient solution, but there was a beauty in its sheer audacity.
For a gamer like Pei Guang, however, efficiency wasn't always the point. Sometimes, style was everything.
Stelle and March 7th seemed only partially aware of what was unfolding, while Bailu had quickly pieced it together. Qingque, meanwhile, remained blissfully confused but unbothered.
As Pei Guang and Welt exchanged another glance, a silent bond formed—a shared romance for men only. It was the kind of understanding only those who dared to mix brilliance with absurdity could achieve. For them, practicality was one thing; cool factor was something else entirely!
Minutes later, the ground beneath the Divination Commission began to quake.
Fu Xuan, standing near the Matrix of Prescience, felt the tremors and instinctively focused her divination toward the source. What she saw left her speechless.
Two massive grey robots were hammering away at the ground with reckless abandon.
Then, as if on cue, each robot seized a Disciple of Sanctus Medicus, holding them up to their "faces." After an awkward sixty seconds of silent contemplation, the machines crushed them with mechanical precision.
Fu Xuan was stunned.
March 7th and Stelle were equally dumbfounded.
March 7th, in particular, was experiencing a first: she had never seen Welt this gleeful.
Welt and Pei Guang didn't exchange words. They didn't need to. Their synchronized actions—grabbing the disciples, holding them aloft for precisely sixty seconds—were a near-perfect replication of something deeply iconic.
Different worlds. Different contexts. Yet a shared homage to the same masterpiece.
Was it brutal? Absolutely. But these were mara-struck Disciples of Sanctus Medicus. No matter how they were handled, they wouldn't bleed. Their red blood cells had been transformed long ago. Though infused with Abundance's power, they were still carbon-based lifeforms. That faint trace of immortality was external, incapable of resisting the raw might of the Construct Engines.
If they had approached normally, the disciples would've had countless ways to dismantle them. Even the Cloud Knights' standard arsenal could've torn them apart.
But that wasn't what happened.
Pei Guang and Welt's method wasn't "normal." It was the equivalent of sending the world's most advanced, heavily armed soldiers on a mission, only for them to suddenly face a fully-loaded semi-truck barreling toward them at 120 kilometers per hour.
Could they shoot the driver? Detonate the truck? Sure. But when it's already in your face? Reaction time becomes a luxury you don't have.