57: Chapter 57 Mechs Unleash Their Power, Unstoppable!

Chen Tiezhu watched the battlefield as it gradually calmed, knowing this battle was coming to a temporary close. At this moment, Chen Xiaodao stood on the shoulder of the "pojoen-hao," feeling the night wind carrying the smell of gunpowder, the mecha's outer shell still slightly hot.

He looked down at the communication frequency—the signal was stable, all thirty Sword-type Mechas were online, with an average energy reserve of sixty-seven percent.

No heavy injuries, no damage, not even a single core circuit was broken.

This didn't feel like a war; it felt more like a standard tactical drill.

But he knew it wasn't.

The dull thud of that hammer hitting the barrier still rang in his ears; those people really wanted to slaughter their way in, truly believing the Chen Family was still the same waste clan from three years ago that was at everyone's mercy.

"Target has left the main battlefield, speed slowing down, suspected injury," he reported in a low voice, his voice transmitted directly to the high platform via an encrypted channel.

Chen Wuwang didn't move, his cloak flapping loudly in the wind.

His right eye, a Mechanical Prosthetic Eye, was rapidly scanning data streams: enemy retreat trajectories, Spiritual Qi residues, terrain concealment points...

Lines of information overlapped in his vision, forming a dynamic red and blue map.

Three seconds later, he raised his right hand and swiped his fingertip through the air, instantly pushing a command to all mecha terminals.

"pojoen-hao leads the team, all mecha squad members strike." His voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced through the night wind. "Pursuit range limited to ten miles. Objective: annihilate organized resistance and force the remaining troops to surrender."

The moment the order was given, the thirty mechas synchronized their thrusters.

Boom—!

Thirty spiritual energy exhaust flames ignited simultaneously, like a galaxy pouring down into the mortal world.

Sand and stones on the ground were blown away by the air currents, scorched earth churned, and residual fire splattered everywhere.

The mecha squad took flight in a wild goose formation, with the pojoen-hao leading in the center. Laser Swords on both arms automatically unsheathed, their blades slicing through the night sky, leaving two blazing white arcs of light.

In the mountain forest, several Zhao Clan Cultivators had just climbed a steep slope when they heard a massive roar behind them and suddenly turned around.

They saw thirty metal figures diving down from the sky in unison, their sword light like lightning, illuminating the entire valley as bright as day.

"Run! Run fast!" someone screamed, but before they could take two steps, the ground shook—Caterpillar-track Mechas had already flanked them, six Heavy Blockade Units pressing low to the ground as they advanced, their tracks crushing rocks and muzzles locking onto the mountain road exit ahead.

They were surrounded.

"Don't panic!" a Wang Family Elder roared, slamming out a Talisman. "Form an array! Groups of three, form a Defense Seal!"

Five or six squads immediately gathered, over a dozen Talismans burning simultaneously, their spiritual power weaving into a pale yellow light shield.

But the moment the light shield formed, the hovering units in the air fired an Interference Spiritual Net—invisible waves spread out, directly cutting the spiritual power links between the Talismans.

The light shield shook violently and shattered with a crack.

"Magical Artifact connection lost!" someone cried out in alarm.

"Don't just stand there! Throw Thunder Talismans! Blast them!" another person roared, raising their hand and hurling them toward the sky.

But these Thunder Talismans were accurately intercepted just as they reached mid-air.

Five elite mechas had already dashed forward, arms crossed, Laser Swords spinning at high speed to form a circular defensive ring.

Amidst the crackling explosions, the Thunder Talismans detonated one after another in the air, firelight scattering, but none hit their mark.

Chen Xiaodao watched all this coldly.

He was waiting for a signal. This signal was the breaking of the enemy's Array Core Flagpole, signifying the collapse of the enemy's defensive System.

When the third squad attempted to force a breakthrough using their Lifebound Treasures, he moved.

"pojoen-hao, assault!"

The machine suddenly dove, twin swords slashing down in a cross—

Shing!

A dark shadow snapped. It was the enemy's Array Core Flagpole; the Formation Flag engraved with the combined marks of the Zhao, Wang, and Li families crashed to the ground, slamming into the mud.

"The array core is broken," he spoke calmly, his voice broadcasting across the battlefield on all frequencies. "Drop your weapons, put your hands behind your heads and squat on the ground, and your lives will be spared."

No one moved.

"I repeat," he slowly descended, the pojoen-hao's feet touching the ground, sword tips digging into the dirt in a non-aggressive stance. "Put down your Spiritual Artifacts, put your hands behind your heads and squat, or it will be considered continued resistance."

This time, someone complied.

A young Cultivator tremblingly threw away his long saber, knelt on the ground, and put his hands behind his head.

Then came a second, a third... until the sound of "clangs" echoed throughout the valley as Magical Artifacts fell like rain.

Yet three people remained standing.

One of them held a Bone Staff, a bloody light flickering in his eyes. "I'd rather die than surrender! You iron lumps are worthy of being called Cultivators?!"

Before his voice could fade, three points of cold light shot out from the mecha line—non-lethal Electric Shock Rounds accurately hit the three men's chests.

They were bombarded and their bodies stiffened, and they collapsed, twitching and foaming at the mouth.

The entire field fell silent.

Then, those kneeling fell like a wheat field toppling over.

Swaths of people laid down their weapons and squatted on the ground, their heads buried extremely low.

Some even began to cry, suppressed and not daring to make a sound.

Amidst the pile of prisoners, a dirty, trampled Zhao Family Azure Flag lay quietly in the mud, and no one dared to pick it up.

Chen Xiaodao didn't look at them.

He only stared at the line of text on his communication screen: [Pursuit mission complete, remnants cleared, no escapees.]

He took a deep breath, raised his right hand, and made a tactical regrouping gesture.

Thirty mechas synchronized their swords, shut down their thrusters, and lined up in a neat square formation.

Gunpowder smoke had yet to dissipate from the machines' surfaces, and their metallic luster gleamed in the first light of dawn, like divine soldiers descending from heaven.

Thin smoke rose from the edges of damaged armor, and energy conduits glowed slightly red, but every single one stood steady and motionless.

At this moment, no one thought of them as "iron lumps" anymore.

This was a blade, a wall, and the new backbone of the Chen Family.

On the distant high platform, Chen Wuwang finally moved.

He didn't smile, nor did he order a celebration; he simply lightly stroked the Titanium Alloy Dagger at his waist.

His fingertip traced the deep scratch on it—left behind when the Zerg slaughtered the village three years ago.

He patched into the mecha communication channel, his voice calm: "Withdraw. Our reputation is established; there's no need for total extermination."

With the order given, the mecha squad lined up on the spot, preparing to return.

Chen Xiaodao sat in the cockpit, the heat from his left Mechanical prosthetic limb not yet dissipated. He looked at the messy battlefield ahead, prisoners with heads bowed like ants, and broken flags and blades scattered everywhere.

He knew that from now on, no one in the Eastern Wastelands would dare to look down on the words "Chen Family Mecha."

He whispered, "We won this battle."

There was no response in the communication channel.

Only the sound of the wind and the hum of engines cooling down from the distant drill grounds.

The thirty mechas turned in formation, their tracks grinding over the scorched earth, slowly marching toward the main stockade.

Morning light spilled onto the metal shells, reflecting a cold and determined light.

Chen Wuwang still stood on the high platform, his gaze following the returning mecha squad, the System interface hovering quietly before his eyes.

The wind grew stronger.

He turned and walked toward the Council Hall.

His steps were steady, never stopping for a moment.