Becoming an Emperor Starting from the World of The Wandering Earth

Chapter 100 A Trivial Matter

"Lord Malcolm, you are unaware of the great calamity that has befallen the Holy City."

"Something big?" Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "What's so big that you guys would abandon your parishes and come here for a free meal?"

"Yes—it is the Father."

A younger priest chimed in, "The Father has descended! He has truly descended! On Advent, in front of the entire city, he descended from the heavens! Riding a golden horse, wearing golden armor, and leading a heavenly army! The pillar of light, the voice, and those heavenly soldiers—all clad in golden iron armor, impervious to swords and spears! Archbishop Jeff was instantly burned to ashes by divine fire!"

Malcolm stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"The Father descends? Riding a golden horse? With heavenly soldiers?"

He put down his wine glass, leaned back in his chair, and laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

"I thought you were going to say something more. That's it? Some actor who appeared out of nowhere, wearing a nicer suit of armor, set off a few fireworks, and you're all this scared?"

The priests looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Lord Malcolm, it wasn't fireworks, it was a real miracle! The pillar of light reached the heavens and the earth, the heavenly soldiers appeared out of thin air, and the sound could be heard throughout the entire holy city!"

"Alright, alright."

Malcolm waved his hand impatiently, stood up, and walked to the window.

Outside the window, squads of guards patrolled back and forth, and searchlights on watchtowers slowly swept across the city.

He pointed to the patrolling soldiers, then to the city beneath his feet.

"Look at my army, it has 3000 men, all equipped with the most advanced firearms, and they train non-stop every day."

"What kind of holy father is that? Even if that holy father really dares to come," Malcolm turned around, looked at the priests, and smiled disdainfully, "I can make sure he doesn't leave alive."

Several priests opened their mouths as if to say something, but then closed them again.

Malcolm sat back down in his chair and picked up his glass.

"Alright, stop thinking about all that nonsense. Eat and drink well, and tomorrow I'll have someone show you around the city. Ironridge City may not be as big as your Holy City, but life is peaceful there. As for that so-called Holy Father, let him—"

Before Malcolm could finish speaking, a sharp whistle rang out from outside the city.

The next second, a huge cannonball instantly tore the cathedral, which was made of gold and jewels, to shreds.

"Oh my God! What's happening?"

"Oh my god, has a demon descended?"

On the crowded streets of the city, people dressed in shabby clothes looked up.

The industrial clouds that had been hanging over the city were suddenly stirred up, and drones began to swoop down.

On the street, the ragged people were stunned at first, and then screams and shouts exploded.

Some people covered their heads and scrambled into the alley, some stood frozen in fear, and many more instinctively ran towards what they considered the most sturdy buildings—stone warehouses or low buildings attached to churches.

But this time, they were wrong.

The drone swarm completely ignored the chaotic scene of people below.

"Targets locked. Enemy command points and heavy firepower positions have been confirmed: Target A1, Central Watchtower; Target A2, Eastern Barracks; Target A3, Southern Church Area —"

The next second, Death began taking attendance.

Whoosh! Boom!!!

Watchtowers scattered throughout the city, military camps in the eastern district, and the most luxurious church district in the southern district—without exception—

Everything was destroyed in an instant.

Immediately afterwards, a low, booming sound of rotors approached from afar, quickly drowning out the aftershocks of the explosion.

"Look! In the sky! It's happening again!"

The unaffected people looked up at the northern sky in terror.

Under the grayish-yellow sky, dozens of black dots are rapidly magnifying.

Sixty Golden Eagle attack helicopters, arranged in a tight assault formation, hurtled straight toward the city center.

"The guards! Where are the guards?! Open fire! Shoot those iron birds down!"

Finally, some junior officers realized what was happening and hid behind the ruins, shouting at the top of their lungs.

A few sporadic rifle shots rang out, but they were completely useless.

The helicopter swarm flew unscathed over the low-rise shantytowns on the outskirts of the city, and under the watchful eyes of countless terrified people, flew over the city center.

Then, something truly chilling happened.

The helicopter did not fire or drop bombs.

They began to slow down and hover.

Then, the hatch slid open.

The next second, one after another, heavy black shadows, like dumplings being dropped into a pot, plummeted rapidly towards the streets, squares, and rooftops below.

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

Heavy impacts rang out one after another.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, tall, silent figures clad entirely in gleaming golden heavy armor rose to their feet.

The CMC-300 power armor, standing at 2.5 meters tall, resembled a legendary steel giant when standing before a group of emaciated Ironthorn City residents, whose average height was only 1.7 meters, and their panicked guards.

"The Holy Father's Heavenly Soldiers—"

A priest who had fled from the Holy City slumped in a corner, looking at the familiar heavenly soldiers before him, his crotch instantly soaked with sweat.

"Fire! Shoot! What are you standing there for!" The guard captain finally snapped out of his shock, grabbed a light machine gun, and pulled the trigger on the nearest Astartes.

"Da da da da!"

The bullet struck the thick breastplate, sending up a trail of sparks and making a crisp, clanging sound.

But the Astartes only swayed slightly, its electronic eyes flashing red under its mask, and it raised its hand.

"Bang!"

A short, sharp explosion.

The leader's head, along with the machine gun in his hand, vanished instantly into a cloud of blood mist.

"Put down your weapons, kneel down and you won't be killed!"

Wilson's cold voice was played in sync through the external speakers of each Astartes helmet.

Some of the guards were terrified; they threw down their rifles with a clatter and lay prone on the ground, covering their heads.

But there are always those who don't believe in evil, or those who are overconfident in their bravery.

"For Lord Malcolm! Let's fight these tin cans!"

Dozens of elite guards in full armor, led by a bearded captain, rushed out of an alley, wielding assault rifles and yelling as they pounced on a three-man Astartes squad that had just landed.

"You're asking for it." Someone sneered in the channel.

Faced with the so-called elite troops rushing towards them, the three Astartes did not even scatter.

The person standing at the very front simply stepped forward and blocked with his left arm.

Immediately afterwards, he threw a right punch.

There are no fancy techniques, just a simple straight punch.

"Pfft!"

The fist pierced right through the bearded man's armor and emerged from his back.

The ferocity on the bearded captain's face froze instantly. He looked down at the bowl-sized hole in his chest, then his eyes glazed over, and he collapsed to the ground.

The other two Astartes also made moves.

One soldier sidestepped and kicked a guard away, while the other went even further, bracing himself against their gunfire and lunging forward. To the horrified look on the guard's face, he twisted the guard like a pretzel and then smashed the guard's sternum with a single punch.