[Combat Status: White Hot]
Mozi's [Non-Offense Bastion] was ingenious, but it was facing the elite Scavenger corps of the Necromancy Guild.
These soldiers, clad in black exoskeletons, no longer charged mindlessly like the previous thugs. They spread out, seizing vantage points and setting up heavy demolition cannons.
More lethally, a group of "technicians" in gray robes entered the battlefield, holding tablet-like deconstruction instruments.
They were the [Deconstruction Warlocks].
"Structure scanned. Energy nodes located."
"Initiating reverse engineering. Calculating disassembly protocol."
Countless red laser beams struck Xuanwu's light screen and Mozi's contraptions. The wooden arrow towers, previously indestructible, began to disintegrate automatically after being swept by the lasers, like building blocks stripped of their soul.
"Damn it! They're hacking my mechanisms!" Mozi stood atop the wall, brows locked tight. He waved his saw, trying to patch the defense line, but it was like trying to plug a dam breach with tape. "These juniors have no martial ethics! Who decodes the source code before even laying siege?!"
"Boss! I can't hold it anymore!"
Xuanwu's massive body trembled under the light screen. The red lasers weren't just dismantling the traps; they were neutralizing its Psionic Power. Although it was a Divine Beast, it was currently in a juvenile state (or early unsealed stage). Facing this kind of industrialized saturation strike, fine cracks began to appear on its shell.
"Hold on!"
John Doe stood behind the defense line, gripping his iPad tight. Cold sweat drenched his forehead as his fingers slid madly across the screen, trying to find a solution.
But he realized with despair that he was out of options.
Mozi could only defend, not attack.
Xuanwu could only shield, not counter.
And he, Bone, and Grace were nothing but cannon fodder in front of a regular army.
"Is this the gap in technology..." A sense of powerlessness surged in John's heart as he watched the Deconstruction Warlocks pressing closer.
Just as the defense line was about to collapse.
BEEP—
John's iPad vibrated. It wasn't an operation he initiated; an unknown, incredibly domineering signal had forcibly jacked in.
A blood-red dialogue box popped up on the screen.
Sender: Leonidas
"Kid, looks like you're in trouble."
"Didn't you say you wanted to learn how to smash someone's face with a shield? I happen to be free right now."
"Also, I hear there's terrain here similar to Thermopylae? That's my home turf."
Attachment: [Active Response Application] (Cost: Friendship Price 10,000 Merit + Your Courage).
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10,000 Merit.
John glanced at his balance: 16,975.
Enough.
"Friendship price... this is a life-saving price!"
Without hesitation, John smashed the [Accept] button.
"King Leonidas! Please... lead us out of here!"
"ROAR—!!!"
A war cry loud enough to shatter glass exploded in the narrow, dilapidated, smoke-filled main street of the 13th Street.
It wasn't one person's voice.
It was the voice of three hundred men.
Red light filled the sky.
In that crimson glow, three hundred warriors—bare-chested, draped in red cloaks, holding round shields and long spears—materialized out of thin air behind the crumbling defense line.
The man leading them had a thick beard, eyes like a lion, and radiated a suffocating scent of blood and iron.
Leonidas I.
He glanced at the warlocks using high-tech gadgets to dismantle the traps, a sneer of utter contempt curling his lips.
"Is this your war? Hiding behind screens and pushing buttons like cowards?"
He raised his spear and pointed forward.
"Spartans! Show them what a man's war looks like!"
"AHOO!!!"
The three hundred warriors roared in unison, slamming their spears against their shields, creating a sound like thunder.
Mozi's mechanism had just been dismantled to create a gap.
The Deconstruction Warlocks were about to rush in.
BAM!
A bronze round shield smashed viciously into the first warlock's face. Pure kinetic energy shattered his protective force field along with the bridge of his nose.
Leonidas charged out.
He used no magic, no high-tech gear. He simply used that shield to withstand the heavy machine gun fire, charging into the enemy formation like a tank made of flesh and blood.
"This is how you use a shield!"
Leonidas shouted back at John, then backhanded a shield bash that sent a sneaking Scavenger soldier flying ten meters.
"And this!"
His spear struck like a viper, precisely piercing the gap in another soldier's exoskeleton armor.
"Spartan Phalanx! Form up!"
Under his command, the three hundred warriors quickly formed an impenetrable wall of human bodies in the narrow street.
This was the Thermopylae Tactic.
Utilize the terrain to completely nullify the enemy's numerical advantage. No matter how many enemies there were, in this street that only allowed a few people to pass side-by-side, they had to face the Spartan's indestructible shields and spears.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Bullets hit the shields, sparks flying.
The lasers of the Deconstruction Warlocks hit the Spartans' muscles (Heroic Spirit Constitution), leaving only shallow burn marks.
"This is too hard!" The opposing commander was dumbfounded. "What material is that? Anti-magic armor?"
"No." John looked at the figures standing tall amidst the hail of bullets, tears welling up in his eyes. "That is... Willpower."
"Kill!"
Leonidas roared, and the phalanx began to push forward.
Like a red bulldozer, the Spartans stepped over enemy corpses (and scrap metal), pushing the battle line back step by step.
The high-tech Scavenger troops were actually being beaten back by a group of ancients wielding cold weapons.
"This is... Sparta!"
John clenched his fists. He felt the hot blood in his body burning too.
He no longer hid in the back. He picked up his scalpel. Although he couldn't charge like Leonidas, he could finish off the wounded, he could distract, he could do everything within his power.
"Bone! Grace! Follow up!"
The squad regrouped.
Under the cover of the Spartans, they launched a desperate counterattack.
[Meanwhile, Netherworld Energy Center]
This place had turned into a massive construction site.
Daoist Singularity, face covered in soot, held a sparking cable and was frantically plugging it into a giant accumulator.
Beside him, apart from the busy little ghosts, was a group of very familiar figures.
Nikola Tesla was debugging a massive coil, his hair standing on end.
"Voltage insufficient! More! More! I want to transmit the energy here directly to that Spartan maniac via quantum entanglement!"
Edison (though he and Tesla didn't get along, he had been drafted) was checking the light bulb circuits.
"Stop arguing! Direct current is the most stable! Your alternating current burned out the transformer!"
There was also an old man in ancient robes (possibly Shen Kuo), researching how to convert the Yin energy of the Netherworld into kinetic energy.
"Cut the chatter!" Singularity roared. "The front line is fighting! That prodigal Leonidas is burning money! Every second costs hundreds of Merit! Give me power!"
"If the power cuts out, that kid is dead! Then who are we creditors going to collect from?!"
This was the Netherworld's "Logistics Department."
A group of scientists and inventors who had been dead for centuries were staging an unprecedented [Energy Revolution] in the underworld for a living kid.
"HUM—!!!"
A massive stream of energy flowed through the cross-plane channel, continuously transmitted to John's iPad, and then converted into the golden light on the Spartans' shields.
This night.
The 13th Street was bright as day.
[Message from Singularity]
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