Chapter Fifty: Immortals Descend to the Mortal World

Personal vendettas, unconnected to war, could never qualify for a war loan.

At present, Lin Lei possessed nothing but a set of exoskeleton armor, twenty-two contribution points, and several dozen tons of black iron ore.

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll sell the ore!” Lin Lei resolved that even if it meant selling off his assets, he would make sure the invaders paid a price.

“Host, when faced with a problem, sometimes it pays to change your perspective. You might be surprised by what you gain,” the system reminded him.

If handled properly, the battle at hand could yield a considerable amount of primal energy.

Yet Lin Lei, driven by revenge, was poised to act at his own expense, without thought of reward, essentially tossing aside a large sum of contribution points. This ran counter to the system’s very purpose.

“I knew you harbored all sorts of devious ideas. Out with your nasty tricks!” If he could take revenge on the invaders and generate a windfall of contribution points at the same time, why would Lin Lei refuse?

“Have you, perhaps, spent so long in the real world that you’ve forgotten how you operated in the world of the bio-virus?” The system could not spell it out directly and could only hint.

“You mean… selling weapons?” Lin Lei asked.

But on reflection, he realized that couldn’t work. Not only did he lack a war loan to exchange for enough arms and ammunition, but the local militia—the Boxers—were little more than hotheaded civilians, with no grasp of firearms theory and no time to learn the use of modern weaponry.

“Have you ever sold weapons, Host? You’ve only ever signed donation agreements.” Lin Lei was too slow to catch on, so the system had to prompt him further.

“Of course! If the Qing government agreed to give me the Dagu Fort, and the Eight-Nation Alliance attacked, then they’d be picking a fight with me—and I’d have every right to strike back!” Lin Lei suddenly understood.

“You’re a shameless one, Host. Not to mention that the land technically belongs to the Qing Emperor—even if they wanted to give it to you, you’d never make it to the capital in time to sign the agreement,” the system mocked.

“Can’t I daydream for a moment…” Lin Lei pouted.

But in truth, a plan had already formed in his mind: naturalization, or, as it was commonly called, “acknowledging one’s ancestors.” Once he gained Han Chinese citizenship, his participation in the conflict would be a matter of defending home and country—a just cause.

With that, he could obtain a war loan and lawfully seize any supplies belonging to the enemy.

The Qing’s actual nationality law wouldn’t be promulgated until 1909, and even then, the requirements were strict and the process complicated.

But now, it was 1900. So long as he did not seek government office, local naturalization was simple—a clan’s endorsement was all it took.

In other words, as long as Lin Lei found a local gentryman to vouch for him, paid respects at the ancestral shrine, and had his name entered into a clan genealogy, he would automatically become a member of the family and, at the same time, a Han Chinese subject of the Qing Empire.

“You really are a genius at exploiting loopholes!” Lin Lei shared his plan with the system, and after analysis, the system confirmed it was well within the rules.

“However, I suggest that after naturalization, you also join the Boxers,” the system proposed.

After all, the Boxers’ creed was utter annihilation of foreign powers—a fight to the death.

History’s course would soon have the Qing government negotiating with the Eight-Nation Alliance and joining hands to crush the Boxers.

If Lin Lei feared not for his life, then upon joining the Boxers, all these powers would be his natural enemies.

What of being the enemy of the world? To grow strong by bathing in the blood of foes—what could be more exhilarating?

No sooner thought than done, Lin Lei switched to flight mode and headed straight for the central camp behind the Dagu Forts...

Far out at sea, aboard a Russian-flagged cruiser, an observer scanning the battlefield through binoculars caught sight of Lin Lei soaring into the sky.

“My God!” the observer cried out.

“Lishinov, what are you howling about?” grumbled the gunner nearby.

Hauling shells all day left the gunners in no mood for the man standing at his leisure with a pair of binoculars.

“I saw someone flying!” Lishinov explained.

“Never seen a battle before? What’s so strange about a yellow bastard getting blown sky-high by our shells? Your job is to spot where the shells fall and see if their fort is destroyed—so we don’t waste ammunition!” the gunner snapped, even more annoyed.

Lishinov swore the man he saw hadn’t been blasted skyward by a shell, but cowed by his comrade’s scolding, he dared not argue further. He could only keep watching, hoping to spot the man again.

Alas, Lin Lei had already flown behind the hills, toward the central camp, and was lost to Lishinov’s sight.

Hovering above the camp, Lin Lei saw the Qing soldiers below still busying themselves, oblivious to his arrival. With such poor military discipline, it was no wonder they lost.

He did not land. Instead, he activated the camouflage function in his tactical helmet, altering his appearance and voice, and then called out from above, “I am the Celestial Yuan Master of the Upper Three Heavens, who has seen the supplications of all mortals. Learning of the chaos below, I descend to prevent suffering and aid the living! Who commands here? Why do you not come forth to greet me?”

The frontlines were already ablaze with fighting; there was not a moment to lose. As an outsider, Lin Lei had to act decisively and use a bold ruse.

The Boxers had long brainwashed their followers by invoking deities, claiming that with the gods’ possession, they could become invulnerable and charge the invaders’ hail of bullets.

Compared to those who could only “invite the gods to possess them,” Lin Lei in flight mode appeared far more like a true deity descending from the heavens, and the soldiers below could not help but be awestruck.

Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, the soldiers, following the voice and spotting Lin Lei in the sky, immediately threw down their weapons and knelt, shouting, “A deity descends—Heaven blesses the Great Qing!”

Luckily, Lin Lei had chosen to join the defenders. Had he joined the Eight-Nation Alliance instead, they could have saved their shells and simply handed over the fort.

Just then, an old man emerged from the command tent, clad in armor, saber at his waist, and a short-barreled firearm in hand. He had been drawn by the commotion, but before he could look up, he saw all his men kneeling.

“What’s going on? Why are you all kneeling?” he demanded.

His voice was booming, edged with authority. Lin Lei sensed with his spiritual perception that the man had reached the level of a first-class martial artist (equal to a second-tier evolver).

“C-Commander, sir… look to the sky,” a bodyguard stammered.

They’d all heard Lin Lei’s proclamation, but as they had been meeting in the command tent, they simply assumed it was a Boxer leader bringing reinforcements.

The Boxers were organized in a hierarchy: Altars, Grand Altars, and Gates or Battalions.

The Altar was the basic unit, also known as the altar station, and sometimes called a workshop, furnace, or guild. The Grand Altar served as the regional command above the altar, and the Gate or Battalion was the next level up. The Boxers divided their organization according to the eight trigrams, forming eight Gates (or Battalions) such as the Qian Gate (Battalion), Xun Gate (Battalion), and so forth.