Chapter 269 – The Steam God and the Mysterious Fog

Victoria Kingdom, Capital City—Orank.

Lu Yan was dressed in a finely tailored dark tailcoat, a silk bow tie at his collar, and intricate embroidery adorning the cuffs and lapels. In his hand, he held a blackwood cane topped with a gleaming silver lion’s head. His high leather boots clacked softly against the cobblestone road.

Walking through the morning mist tainted by coal smoke, red-brick buildings rose up on both sides of the street. Tall chimneys stood in clusters, constantly spewing heavy black smoke. The gas lamps along the road had yet to be extinguished, their dim yellow light piercing the gray fog to illuminate his silhouette.

In the distance, a factory whistle cut through the morning light. Carriage wheels clattered over the damp stone road, blending with the hurried footsteps of factory workers.

Occasionally, passing workers cast curious glances at him, wondering whether this well-dressed gentleman was the owner of some factory or a high-ranking inspector.

Lu Yan simply observed everything in silence, calmly taking in the scene before him.

It had been one day since the Version Update was initiated.

When Lu Yan descended into the Mysterious Version a day ago, he carried with him a fleeting sliver of the Second Heavenly Dao Authority.

Though it dissipated swiftly, it was still enough for the seven Divine Churches of the Mysterious Version to detect—leading them to mistake his arrival as the descent of a True God.

What followed was a deluge of divinations and fate-weaving.

These divinations came from sources with terrifying Authority—at least on the level of Nascent Soul cultivators. In fact, Lu Yan had even sensed the aura of several “this world’s only one” beings at certain critical nodes.

The righteous churches and the cults of the Evil Gods alike all employed the powers of their mysterious deities in an attempt to trace the origins of this new arrival.

Left with no other option, Lu Yan had used Spinning Creation to redirect all the information anchors to the Second Heavenly Dao of the Grand Transmigration Version and left behind the name “Fengdu.”

As for Lu Yan himself, he used Spinning Creation to evolve the Profound Harmony Intent, successfully hiding within the capital city of Victoria Kingdom—Orank.

While this maneuver resolved the immediate crisis, it left behind a potential hidden danger.

If Lu Yan ever went all out in the future and caused the Profound Harmony Intent to dissipate, those earlier divinations and rituals could still trace him back to his true identity.

Which was why he had to remain cautious.

“Still, if used wisely, those divinations and rituals might not be entirely a bad thing,” Lu Yan thought silently.

More and more workers began appearing on the street, men and women in faded uniforms pouring out of alleyways. Their shoulders drooped, and their faces were filled with fatigue.

Idle factories began rumbling back to life, their giant chimneys belching black smoke. The clanging of gears and the hissing of steam echoed through the morning air.

At the same time, a few peculiar figures emerged on the street. These individuals were tall and brutish, their broad shoulders stretching out thick black coats. Matching black shirts peaked from underneath, and a red handkerchief peeked out of each of their chest pockets.

They stood in clusters at various street corners, tattooed arms crossed as they scanned the crowds with hawk-like gazes.

At the sight of them, the workers’ faces paled. Muttering curses under their breath, they quickly lowered their heads and passed by, or turned into side alleys to avoid trouble. Their eyes flickered with helpless fear and resignation.

Some weren’t so lucky. A few workers, caught off guard, were grabbed by the collar and dragged roughly to the walls by these men. A thin, freckled young man found himself cornered by two of the black-coated thugs, and harsh questioning followed.

“Running away, Little Wood? What’s that about?”

The thug bared his yellowed teeth, jabbing a thick finger into the young worker’s chest.

“If I remember right, you haven’t paid your protection fee in two months!”

The other thug pulled out a greasy ledger, his calloused fingers flipping through the pages.

“Old York—don’t tell me you’re planning to skip today’s payment?”

His voice grated like rusted metal.

“The boss said, you either pay up today, or… well, I can’t say what’ll happen.”

He drew a finger across his neck, and the worker called Old York turned ghostly pale, fumbling through his pockets for a few pitiful coins.

As for the underfed Little Wood, his face was a patchwork of bruises, his frail body barely more than skin and bones.

With a pleading expression, he turned to the thug and begged, “Brother Book, please… just give me two more months. My sister’s sick. The textile mill boss fired her without even settling her pay. I had to ask him to advance two months of my wages just to get her treatment. I really have nothing left.”

Book frowned. “Are you lying to me?”

“I wouldn’t dare!” Little Wood trembled. “I swear I’m telling the truth!”

“Everyone knows your boss—Iron Rooster George. That guy’s tighter than a clam. Why would he advance your wages?”

Book grabbed Little Wood by the collar, lifting him off the ground like a chicken.

“I took my sister to Blacklamp Clinic. George paid for it. And I have to work an extra four hours every day just to pay the interest on the advance!”

Book’s eyes softened a bit. He tossed Little Wood to the ground with a sigh.

“Idiot. Blacklamp Clinic is owned by George’s son. That brat flunked out of med school within a year and opened the clinic with Daddy’s help.”

“He ‘advanced’ you the treatment cost? It’s just a money shuffle between father and son. And I bet your sister’s not even getting better, right?”

Little Wood nodded in a daze.

“That’s why. The kid doesn’t know medicine. George just wanted a reason to dock your pay and make you work overtime for free.”

Little Wood stared in disbelief, stunned.

Book patted his cheek and sneered, “Well, now you know. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You still owe the protection fee—every last penny.”

“I don’t care if you beg George for your pay back or sell your sick sister. Either way, I want the full two months’ worth.”

“Protection payments are down. If you can’t pay, I’ll make an example of you.”

The crowd of workers looked on from a distance, pity flickering in their eyes.

They all understood—Little Wood had no chance of reclaiming his wages. And even if his sister was sold off, no brothel would take someone likely carrying a contagious disease.

His fate was sealed—he’d become a tool for the gang to assert dominance.

The Black-Clothed Gang had plagued the industrial district for years. They didn’t dare extort protected capitalists, so they bled the workers dry instead.

The workers could barely afford to eat. Once that meager income was skimmed off by protection fees, all they could do was starve.

Fortunately, the gang usually avoided targeting well-connected workers or those with siblings. But for someone like Little Wood, who only had a sick sister, he was an ideal target for long-term exploitation. If he died, no one would even bribe the police to investigate.

The crowd grew thicker, and Little Wood stood paralyzed, trembling and chilled to the bone. As time dragged on, despair swallowed his heart.

“I… I just wanted to earn some money to treat my sister… Why is it like this?”

He cried out to the crowd, but no one responded.

Behind him, Book had drawn a folding knife, its blade gleaming ominously.

Just then, the crowd parted. A well-dressed gentleman walked forward, cane in hand.

He stood out like a polished jewel in a pile of ash—refined, elegant, utterly out of place.

It was Lu Yan.

Book eyed him cautiously. After confirming there was no noble insignia on him, the fear in his eyes faded slightly. He forced a polite smile.

“Esteemed sir, you—”

Before he could finish, Lu Yan flicked a gold coin into the air.

“I’ll cover his protection fee.”

Book’s eyes lit up with greed as he snatched the coin. Seeing the eagle engraved in shining relief, he beamed and kicked Little Wood lightly.

“Idiot. You should be thanking this generous gentleman.”

Little Wood stared blankly for a moment before finally realizing what had happened.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!”

Lu Yan ignored him and looked at Book.

“You’re with the Black-Clothed Gang? I’m looking for your boss. I have a deal to discuss.”

Book hesitated, but another gold coin flicked into his hands.

“I’m sure the boss would be happy to meet someone as generous as you!”

Grinning, Book led the way, while the dazed crowd remained behind.

The Black-Clothed Gang’s boss, Sain, was a legend in the industrial district.

Five years ago, he’d singlehandedly wiped out a hundred-man gang and went on to found the Black-Clothed Gang, which now controlled protection for a fifth of the industrial zone.

Rumor had it he possessed powers beyond that of ordinary men—so much so that even the police feared him.

But today, in the gang’s reception hall, that so-called legend had transformed into a half-wolf monstrosity—and was now kneeling lifelessly on the floor.

Lu Yan stood before him, withdrawing his right hand, calmly sorting through Sain’s memories.

Victoria Kingdom had little to no overt supernatural activity. Only the official government and the Divine Churches retained traces of such forces. Lu Yan had heard of Sain through various channels and suspected him to be a supernatural being.

His initial intent was to use more civil methods, but upon entering the gang’s base and seeing the filth within, he changed tactics.

Now, with Sain’s memories laid bare, Lu Yan had a general understanding of the Mysterious Version.

This world resembled Earth in the late 18th century, an era of industrial revolution and overseas colonization.

On the surface, seven great nations ruled the world, with smaller states serving as vassals. But in truth, the Seven Divine Churches held supreme power.

The churches were the true heart of power, and the seven great nations existed only because there were seven churches.

In ancient times, divine authority far surpassed royal power—even kings needed papal approval to ascend the throne.

But as the True Gods fell into slumber in recent years, the world order began to shift.

Though the churches still held terrifying might, their absolute dominance waned. Kingdom elites grew restless.

Hidden forces—evil cults and occult orders—began to act, aiming to erode church control.

They seized on the churches’ weakening grip to promote science and colonization, embracing industrialization.

With technology booming, the authority of the Divine Churches was under threat.

Secular power surged. Changing lifestyles and growing materialism chipped away at faith.

To adapt, some Divine Churches rewrote their doctrines, added new divine domains, and even changed the names of their gods.

The Victoria Kingdom was the cradle of industrialization, and its Divine Church had gone so far as to rename their Creator God as the Steam God.

Seizing the momentum, the Church of Steam had become the most powerful among the Seven Divine Churches.

Lu Yan sat on the lounge sofa in the reception hall, tapping the armrest in thought.

Sain, a mere Sequence 7 “Werewolf” on the Monster Path, knew little of real value—just scattered hearsay.

To most, nothing seemed amiss. But Lu Yan saw the cracks.

The biggest issue? The Seven True Gods—each a “this world’s only one”—had long since transcended the need for faith.

So how could shifts in public belief, changes to doctrine, or name swaps possibly affect them?

“Are these just ignorant mortals fumbling to interpret divine will… or is it all tied to the fog that veils this version?”

Lu Yan’s gaze deepened. Within his Underworld’s small world, the stars rotated, faintly revealing glimpses of hidden truth.

“This version… just got interesting.”

(End of Chapter)