The heavy steel gates of Sector 01 slid open with a hydraulic hiss that made Merchant Jin's teeth vibrate.
Jin stepped out of his steam-carriage—a gaudy contraption of brass gears and enchanted coal that looked like a toy compared to the sleek, angular trucks parked inside the city. He smoothed his crimson robes, embroidered with patterns of dancing flames.
He was an Elder of the Blood Fire Sect, a group of cultivators who believed that fire was the purest form of cleansing. They worshipped heat, explosion, and destruction.
But as he walked into Beiluo, he felt… cold.
The city didn't smell like the chaotic, wood-smoke fire of a Sect. It smelled of asphalt and refined sulfur. The heat here wasn't wild; it was caged.
Huge pipes ran along the streets, insulated with asbestos and wool, carrying steam from the central reactor to heat the housing blocks. The streetlamps buzzed with trapped lightning.
"By the Burning Hells," Jin whispered, looking at a passing patrol of the Bureau of Order. They held strange black tubes (rifles) and wore masks that hid their faces. "This place feels less like a city and more like a... machine."
"Move along," a guard said, his voice amplified by a helmet speaker. "Stay on the yellow line."
Jin chuckled nervously. "Of course. Of course."
He was escorted not to the luxurious mansion he expected, but to a Testing Range on the outskirts of the industrial district. The snow here had been cleared away, revealing scorched earth and concrete barriers.
Jiang Chen was waiting for him. He stood behind a table laden with strange canisters. He wore protective goggles and heavy rubber gloves.
"Merchant Jin," Jiang Chen said, not looking up as he adjusted a pressure valve. "You have traveled far. I assume you are here for the heat?"
"I am here for the art!" Jin spread his arms dramatically. "We saw the sky turn orange! We saw the western plains melt! My Sect Leader wept tears of joy. He calls it the 'Grand Cleansing'. We must know... what spell is this? What Rank is the talisman?"
Jiang Chen stopped working. He picked up a metal canister with a nozzle and a backpack strap.
"It is not a spell," Jiang Chen said. "It is chemistry."
He signaled to a soldier—a sturdy man named Corporal Zhang. "Suit up."
Zhang strapped the heavy tanks to his back. He picked up the wand-like projector.
"Merchant Jin," Jiang Chen pointed to a row of wooden mannequins set up fifty meters away. They were dressed in wet leather armor, simulating a cultivator's defenses. "Your Sect uses Fireball Jutsu, yes? How much Qi does it cost to burn a target continuously for ten seconds?"
Jin stroked his beard. "A considerable amount. A Disciple would be exhausted."
"Watch."
Jiang Chen nodded to Corporal Zhang.
Zhang squeezed the trigger.
FWOOSH.
A stream of liquid fire erupted from the nozzle. It didn't puff out like a magical fireball; it shot out like a water hose. The stream arched through the air, hitting the mannequins.
The liquid splashed over them. It stuck.
The fire roared, thick and black smoke billowing up.
"It... It clings!" Jin gasped, stepping closer, feeling the intense heat on his face. "It flows like water but burns like the sun!"
Corporal Zhang swept the nozzle. A wall of flame engulfed the entire range. He held the trigger down for five full seconds, then ten. The fire didn't stop. It didn't weaken.
When Zhang finally released the trigger, the mannequins were gone. There was only ash and bubbling slag.
"This is the M2 Flamethrower," Jiang Chen explained, patting the tank. "Fuel: Napalm-B. Range: 40 meters. Burn time: 1,200 degrees Celsius. It requires no Qi. A child can use it."
Jin stared at the burning ground. He walked up to a puddle of napalm that was still burning in the snow. He threw a handful of snow on it. The fire hissed but didn't go out.
"Water-resistant..." Jin murmured, his eyes wide with greed. "The White Cloud Sect uses water barriers. This... this would eat through them."
He turned to Jiang Chen, grabbing the Administrator's hand.
"I need it. I need all of it. The tanks. The juice. The recipe."
Jiang Chen pulled his hand back gently.
"The recipe is a trade secret," Jiang Chen said. "But the juice? The juice is for sale."
He led Jin to a warehouse where hundreds of red barrels were stacked.
"We sell it by the barrel. We also sell the 'delivery systems'—the throwers and the drop-tanks for aerial bombardment."
Jin looked at the barrels like a starving man looking at a banquet. "What is the price?"
"I don't want gold," Jiang Chen said. "Gold is soft. I want Saltpeter and Sulfur from your volcanic mines. Tons of it."
Jin blinked. "Fire powder ingredients? Those are common! We have mountains of it!"
"And," Jiang Chen added, "I want High-Grade Spirit Stones. 10,000 of them."
Jin hesitated. 10,000 High-Grade stones was a fortune. It was enough to bankrupt a small sect.
But then he looked at the flamethrower again. He imagined his disciples marching on the White Cloud Sect, spraying liquid hellfire that water couldn't extinguish. He imagined the look on their arrogant faces as their robes melted.
"Deal," Jin grinned, his teeth reflecting the flames. "We will empty our treasury. But I want a demonstration of the 'Drop Tanks' you mentioned."
"Look up," Jiang Chen pointed.
High above, a P-47 Thunderbolt was circling. It dove, releasing a canister onto a designated target zone a mile away.
BOOM-WHOOSH.
A mushroom cloud of fire rose into the sky.
Jin wept. "It is beautiful."
As the Blood Fire Sect convoy left—loaded down with napalm barrels and flamethrowers—Chen Wei walked up to Jiang Chen.
"Administrator," the Spymaster said quietly. "We just armed a radical sect with weapons of mass destruction. If they turn on us..."
"They won't," Jiang Chen said, watching the convoy leave. "Napalm requires a specific chemical thickening agent that only we can produce. If they attack us, we cut the supply. Their weapons become useless water guns."
He turned back to the city.
"Besides, they are going to be busy. The White Cloud Sect is about to have a very hot summer."
"System," Jiang Chen commanded. "Status of the Enrichment?"
[Project Manhattan: Phase 1 Complete.][Centrifuges: Spinning at 100%.][Estimated time to first Weapons-Grade payload: 14 Days.]
"14 days," Jiang Chen muttered.
Suddenly, the air raid siren wailed. Not the beast alarm. The Aerial Intruder alarm.
"Report!" Jiang Chen snapped into his radio.
"Radar contact!" The operator shouted. "Multiple bogeys! High altitude! They aren't planes, Sir! They are... biological!"
Jiang Chen looked at the sky.
Breaking through the cloud layer were hundreds of shapes. They looked like manta rays, but vast—wingspans of twenty meters. Their hides were grafted with shimmering steel plates. On their backs rode White Cloud disciples wielding lightning spears.
"The Sect responds," Jiang Chen said, watching the swarm descend. "They bred an air force."
"Scramble the P-47s!" Han shouted. "Get the Flak guns turning!"
"No," Jiang Chen watched the Sky Rays diving with incredible speed—faster than his props could climb. "They are diving to bomb the factories. They learned from us."
He ran toward the bunker.
"System! Unlock Tier 3 Air Defense."
[Blueprint: The "Wirbelwind" (Whirlwind) Flakpanzer.][Blueprint: Proximity Fuse Shells (VT Fuses).]
"Print the fuses," Jiang Chen ordered. "And tell the pilots to stay low. This is going to be a dogfight."