Chapter 227: Twisted

Steam-powered toilets continued to chase them; now not only toilets but even genuine steam giants appeared—iron plating wrapped their bodies, these steel Titans spewed steam from their backs, steam gave them power, drilling machines granted them intelligence, these unmanned giants over ten meters tall pursued the fleeing refugees.

Their steel shells made them impervious to blows, yet the massive spikes on the giants' wrists could be fired like cannonballs driven by high-pressure steam. true qi shields couldn't stop them; only close-fitting firm aura and a strong physique could withstand them—or one could wear armor.

In short, relying solely on blade intent or sword intent simply won't work; we must meet force with force. As for lightness skill, these Titans move very fast—you can't outrun them for a while—moreover, martial arts masters of this world have also given chase.

Bai Lang had never seen such martial arts experts before; these four were exactly that—pure physical cultivators, with firm aura protecting their bodies beneath skin and flesh. Their bodily strength could move the air—air was struck into lumps and burst forth, that is, emitting waves.

Their vigor of blood and qi reached an unbelievable extent; even their flesh alone, like a divine weapon, might not be cut, and they are immune to control—mental martial arts are ineffective. Each one is an extremely troublesome opponent, and not only are their bodies formidable, they can even mimic certain natural phenomena with their flesh.

According to these people themselves, it is the use of "qi"—qi can become blazing fire or bitter cold, also become raging wind or thunder and lightning. "This is not inner true qi." said the young woman among the four; after exchanging blows she had already sensed the anomaly through qi flow.

Sword intent and sword heart are useless; only powerful output is strength!

The anomaly had just begun; Bai Lang still had no idea this world could undergo such a change. What he now faces is something more troublesome than a steam truck—a steam tank, if this world even has the concept of tanks.

"Steam power, rigid suspension, riveted armor! Aside from multiple turrets, it's basically a holy relic!" Bai Lang admired the land cruiser before him. To accommodate a high-pressure steam engine with sufficient power, this tank is long, wide, and tall.

Its length is about twelve or thirteen meters, its width definitely exceeds five meters, and its height reaches almost that of two stories. The steam unit at the rear, belching black smoke, drives the wide tracks, and there is a coal bunker at the tank's center, the coal practically piled up to a point.

By comparison, the forward turret is small—this square turret is about the height of a person, at most three meters, a square box with a thick short tube on each front and rear side—the caliber is quite large but the gun barrel is indeed short, so this cannon is at best a howitzer. Moreover, there are two Gatling guns on the box, plus two more on either side of the coal bunker; that is the entire firepower of this steam tank.

As soon as this thing appeared, it came with two steam trucks; its hide is thick and tough. Bai Lang tried to pierce the armor with a thrust, saying, "Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist can pierce a hole, but tearing it apart is no easy feat." This armor is actually twenty centimeters thick, so the tank definitely weighs over a hundred tons—no wonder it moves so slowly.

Bai Lang didn't even want to test whether he could catch the howitzer's shells—this is a breech-loading howitzer, the shells aren't round iron balls, so having science while I have divine arts is a non-starter. In this twisted world, Bai Lang really didn't want to test whether his Golden Bell Cover could withstand the shells.

Gatling bullets are useless against him—Bai Lang tested this with his left hand—no need to specially boost his qi; simply relying on his body forged from Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist combined with Golden Bell Cover training, plus the firm aura close to his skin, is enough to block them—at most it just feels like his hand was firmly pushed by something.

Bai Lang flipped through his little notebook; this tank recorded therein is one of a series of high-value salvage items—in fact, it's an entire tank family, from the standard tank before him to flame-throwing tanks and bulldozer-equipped tanks, each of which can be salvaged for a high price.

Just as valuable as a whole, yet hard to capture intact—because the drilling mechanism is inside the tank, one must first pry open the tank's hatch, enter the cabin, then smash the mechanism. Bai Lang came here to satisfy his curiosity and, incidentally, study this world—if he can't cultivate, then this is all that remains.

If not studied, who knows when Yu Yu will finish charging—could be three to five years, or eight to ten? Lingering long in this world is hardly a good choice. Even though Bai Lang is already an Innate Expert and constantly uses the White Tiger Heart to exterminate the twisted primordial energy that has seeped into his body, he still dares not guarantee that nothing anomalous will happen in a few years.

This tank leaves him helpless, yet Bai Lang also doesn't want to go through the trouble of bringing back a nonfunctional tank—these parts are too big for his pack to hold. The tank's mighty barrage draws monsters wandering the wilderness over.

Those are humanoid monsters wearing strange hides.

These monsters are taller than Bai Lang—Bai Lang is already over 1.9 meters tall, and these monsters are about half again as tall as him. They wear full-body hides, leather boots on their feet, and their heads are covered by hoods; however, the facial area is a pig-snout-like mask, behind whose lenses no eyeballs are visible—just a black mass.

Each monster carries three parallel steel cylinders on its back, with a pipe leading to the gun-like object they hold. "Flamethrower?" Bai Lang instantly recognized what it was, and these monsters also have another hand gripping a single-barreled gun—a huge one.

Four such monsters arrived in total, unrecorded in his notebook. These humanoid monsters are more agile than the tank, and their speed is not slower than Bai Lang's current pace. Bai Lang slightly increased his speed, dodging the monsters' continuous spray, while the flames vomited from their flamethrowers are long and thick, covering at least half a basketball court when they hit the ground—though they didn't hit Bai Lang, his sudden acceleration caused the monsters to misjudge.

The tank's howitzer can likewise wound these monsters, but it seems only a direct hit does damage; otherwise, the flying shrapnel, even if it slices their hides, heals quickly. "Is this not hide? Is it their skin?" Bai Lang uttered an "oh," then launched his attack.

There's no need to bring out the Tornado TV-style fist; better to unleash close-range Tiger Form True Meaning output—let's go with Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist. Bai Lang elongated his body, lunged low to the ground, swept past the first monster, using it to block the line between tank and himself against the shell. Then Bai Lang struck at the second monster.

One claw swipe tore through the hide like rotten leather; beneath the extremely tough hide lay a nauseating, sticky substance—like rotting flesh or some kind of mollusk. "Damn!" he cursed a hundred times, not even daring to smell how foul his hand had become.