Chapter 3493: Untitled
As the saying went, a slight change could affect the entire situation. It was impossible for the traces of the large-scale mobilization of the Steam Legion not to be known by the Fist Hall.
The main force of the Iron Fist Legion had been looking for an opportunity to wage a strategical war against the Steam Legion in the first place. Now, they were no longer hiding their real capability. Dozens of troops and hundreds of priests of the Temple of Fist were marching toward the village where Gus was like infuriated bees.
In the strategic area of a hundred square kilometers, the elites of both sides were engaged in a fierce battle. It was going to be a good show.
In the meantime, more troops were coming from various places to fill up their teams that were brimming with killing intent.
It was like two monsters with dozens of heads had opened their bloody mouths and bit each other. One side was already covered in wounds and blood, while the other side was still expanding and growing. They were also staring at each other, ready to deal the fatal blow at any moment.
A storm of blood had already been raised in every battle line within a hundred square kilometers.
The village that Gus was in, on the other hand, was like the center of a storm and maintained a fragile tranquility.
Speaking of which, the final battle had started because of him.
Support our newn0vel(0rg)
But in fact, he was the fuse of an unprecedented explosion. Without him, the explosion was only a matter of time.
Therefore, when the main force of the two parties collided brutally, the commander-in-chief of the two parties focused all their attention on their opponent and forgot about him.
The commander-in-chief of the steam army in the south, in particular, did not want the so-called 'Holy Son' to gain more influence and affect his own position, nor did he want the 'Holy Son' to be captured or killed by the enemy, which would be a devastating blow to his morale.
The so-called 'saint sons' would be treated as mascots and kept in the safer areas. That would be the best.
Therefore, over the next few days, although Gus had recovered, he did not go to the frontline where the battles were most intense. He did not even get to meet the leadership and the commander-in-chief of the Southern Steam Legion.
What he saw most were the wounded soldiers sent down from the frontline and the old, weak, women, and children who were responsible for the care of the wounded soldiers.
The Steam Legion treated the village he was in as a field hospital.
Of course, the Fist God's World had only just developed to the budding stage of the steam era. The so-called 'field hospital' was in fact very imperfect. There was no good treatment for the wounded who had broken bones or even mangled flesh. Other than smearing and bandaging them with herbs that looked like placebos, they could only hope that the 'Holy Son' could bring a miracle that could heal them without any medication.
It was a pity that miracles were things that could not be duplicated.
For several sleepless days and nights, Gus stayed beside the wounded who were bleeding so much that they did not even look like human beings. He prayed and treated them clumsily.
But the only thing he could do was to listen to his opponent's dying moans, which were getting weaker and weaker. Then, he could only watch as the wounded vomited blood bubbles one by one until the last one.
Although their enemies were often bare-handed.
But for the Iron Fist Soldiers who had received brutal training, their bodies were as hard as steel, and their fists were as heavy as battering rams and cannons. When they waved their fists, they simply had the strength of thousands of kilograms. It was literally 'die if you touch it, die if you touch it'.
The purpose of sending the wounded from such iron fists to the rear was not so much to treat them as to prevent them from dying miserably in the frontline so that their morale would not be undermined.
Although not many wounded were saved, nobody blamed Gus for not doing his best.
Everyone still firmly believed in his identity as a 'Holy Son'. There were even rumors that if he could die under the prayer of Gus, his soul would soar with the steam and go to the real heaven.
As a result, there were even more wounded soldiers who needed Gus. Many of them were seriously wounded and on the verge of insanity. They could not wait to die under Gus' prayer.
There were also the old, the weak, the women, and the children who were taking care of the wounded. There were no professional doctors or nurses in the field hospital of the Fist God's World. Those who were taking care of the wounded were nothing more than the civilians who had been affected by the war and lost their homes.
The parents of many children were fanatics of the Steam Clan. Chances were that they would have been blown into pieces by the enemy's iron fists during their fearless charge.
Such children all became Gus's diehard fans. They worshipped him crazily and followed him day and night like inseparable tails.
In the meantime, Gus had also heard the stories of the fanatics of the Mechanical and Steam Sect from the dying wounded and the enthusiastic fans.
In fact, it was nothing unusual.
It was nothing more than how the Temple of Fist went on a rampage, forcing people to not be able to live, and how they ruthlessly cracked down on all kinds of inventions related to machinery and steam. In the end, it was nothing more than the government forcing the people.
But the stories that had happened countless times in the past and would happen countless times in the future, when they were told out of the mouths that were spurting blood, when they were spurted out of the innocent eyes, and when they were written in the twisted, shaking hands, were particularly shocking for Gus.
It was an abnormal world.
Before he watched hundreds of thousands of people die miserably in front of him in the most miserable way, he had never realized it so deeply.
A centipede never dies. Even if the so-called 'strategic final battle' was won by the Steam Legion, it did not mean that the Iron Fist Legion would be wiped out and the reign of the Temple of Fist would collapse.
The best the army of steam could do was consolidate the rule of the south. Then, the world of the Fist God would enter a stalemate.
In the next hundred years or even a thousand years, countless corpses would be lying on the ground. The fierce battles would continue and turn the world into a hellish hell.
Even if the Mechanical and Steam Cult completely defeated the Temple of Fist and brought the entire world into the era of steam, Gus already knew that the steam civilization was still not the highest form of civilization. One day, a new force would rise and sweep the power of steam into the garbage heap of history in a destructive manner.
And during the process, how many innocent people would die miserably?
Gus did not know.
He was in a dilemma.
Holding the hands of the wounded soldiers, who were gradually cooling down… Many of the wounded soldiers were not much older than him. Their young faces were particularly pale against the bright red blood. Listening to them murmuring the names of their fathers, mothers, and the girls they loved, Gus could not help but think of them as real people.
However, he, too, could not stand by and watch the Fist God's World sink into a hundred-year, or even a thousand-year, bloody war and turn the living people who had flesh and blood like himself into meaningless casualties in the Hell of Asuras.
"Isn't it great if there is a perfect paradise where everybody can live a carefree life where they forget everything?
In the dead of night, when he curled up in the corner of his bed and took a nap, the ghost-like thought would surface uncontrollably in his mind.