The three thugs at the front just turned up the stairs and bumped into the steel giant head-on. The excitement on their faces instantly shattered into pieces.
The one running at the front suddenly braked. He looked down at the thing in his hand, a rusty machete with a gap left on the blade from yesterday's chopping of coconuts.
Then he raised his head and looked at the two-meter-five-meter-tall steel giant in front of him, covered with matte black Plasteel armor.
That's it?
Take this broken knife and chop this thing?
Someone behind him muttered, "This is Iron Man's fucking father," or who was the first to throw the machete to the ground, turn around and run away.
There was a crowd at the entrance of the stairs, with the front rows squeezing back and the back rows surging upwards. Those in the middle were squeezed so hard that their feet did not even touch the ground, like Rat trapped in a cage.
Ronan didn't give them any chance.
He stretched out his hand to push aside the two people blocking the way. His movement was as light as pushing aside two door curtains. The two thugs were turned around half a circle, and the backs of their heads hit the wall and they passed out.
Then he stepped into the crowd, leaned down, and stretched out his hand.
The left and right hands each grabbed a person's ankle, picked them up, and threw them away.
The two thugs flew out of the stairs like broken sacks, smashed the corridor window and fell downstairs. The screams were dragged out of the window for half a second;
Then it stopped abruptly.
Wetware needs to be complete, and the focus is on the nervous system being intact. Ronan uses the most primitive method - bare hands.
After a few seconds, there was no one left standing at the scene.
The process was so fast that the thugs who came afterward didn't even notice anything was wrong.
The thugs at the front saw the corpses on the ground. Before they could turn their heads, their companions behind who wanted to advance pushed them forward.
"Kill this iron lump to death! Reward three hundred thousand rupees!"
Ronan has no time to play house with them.
As soon as the speaker raised his machete, Ronan's wrist blade had already swept over his head like Lightning Fighter.
The head soared into the sky, and blood sprayed three feet high. The body still stood with the knife raised for half a second, and then suddenly fell to the ground.
The roars of the crowd fell silent for a moment, and then erupted into even more violent roars. "There is only one person in front of you, how many more people can you hit, no matter how powerful you are?!"
This simple mathematical intuition overcame fear. People in the back row pushed forward crazily, and people in the front row were pushed and squeezed, rushing towards Ronan like a tide.
Ronan stepped forward and snatched away the two thugs with his arms. He used them as melee weapons and swept them into the crowd with the sound of howling wind.
With each sweep, a whole row of people were knocked over. The crisp sounds of broken bones were as dense as crushed dead branches, and screams came one after another.
He let go, and two bodies that were no longer humanoid flew out, and another one was knocked down, splattering blood all over the ground.
Then he leaned over again, grabbed the other two thugs by the back collars like chickens, spun them around half a circle, and threw them into the crowd. The sound of broken bones sounded again, and another row of people was knocked to the ground.
He forcibly cleared a bloody path in the crowd, and the road was covered with a thick layer of unconscious bodies with broken bones and limbs.
One wave of people fell, and another wave came to kill them.
Suddenly, the factory door exploded open.
A modified pickup truck rushed in, its front was welded with spikes, and its engine roared as it crashed straight into Ronan.
In the back, two thugs carried AKs and fired wildly. The bullets ricocheted off the MarkII's Plasteel armor, and Mars flew everywhere.
Ronan did not hide.
He bent his knees slightly, lowered his center of gravity, kicked the ground violently, and rushed forward like a cannonball.
Before the cement crushed under his feet hit the ground, he had already crashed into the front of the car.
With a bang, the front of the pickup truck and its welded spikes exploded. Fragments and deformed steel plates flew to both sides. The engine and gears instantly collapsed, and the windshield shattered into slag.
The entire car was smashed into countless pieces from the middle, as if it had hit a wall.
The wreckage was splashing against Power Armour, and Ronan's speed did not even slow down.
Another pickup truck rushed towards him, but Ronan dodged it with an expressionless face. He grabbed the pickup truck and threw it to the side. The pickup truck rolled and crashed into the crowd coming up from behind. There was a loud bang and a bloody gap opened in the crowd. The screams and wails were deafening.
But the gap was immediately filled by more people.
A minibus with thick armored steel plates, converted into a personnel carrier, came up from behind the crowd. Two people stood on the roof, carrying an old-fashioned rocket launcher. The warhead was loaded, and the black muzzle was pointed at Ronan.
"Fire!"
The two of them pulled the triggers at the same time, and the rocket trailed an orange-red tail flame and hit Ronan's breastplate hard. The violent explosion instantly engulfed his upper body, and thick smoke billowed, obscuring his vision.
Before the thick smoke dispersed, Ronan had already walked out of the side of the minibus. There was not even a scorch mark on the breastplate, only a little black smoke left by the rocket.
He reached out and grabbed the side beams of the minibus, and using his arms, he actually lifted the entire personnel carrier and the dozen or so thugs sitting inside above his head.
The minibus stayed in his hand for less than half a second before he slammed it towards the direction where the crowds of people were the densest.
When the car hit the ground, it bounced hard and made a loud noise. The people below were smashed into meat patties, and the ground was soaked with blood.
Now, even the most dim-witted people know what fear is.
This is not a human at all, this is a humanoid tank.
"He----he is Yaksha Rakshasa!" A trembling voice sounded.
This sentence spread quickly like a virus, and the thugs began to panic.
This group of people from the bottom are very superstitious. For things they don't understand, they can only find answers from myths and stories.
But instead of giving them any comfort, this answer actually caused fear to grow crazily.
A small leader shouted, "What are you afraid of! We have tens of thousands of people! We can wear this iron lump to death!"
But the people standing in the front row unconsciously moved their heels back. The rockets could not hit them, the pickup trucks could not be smashed, and the minibuses were lifted up and thrown at them like stones.
This is something that cannot be stopped by humans at all, it is a monster!
In the face of this absolute power, what is the difference between the machetes and AKs in their hands and the fire sticks?
But the crowd did not completely disperse.
The ever-increasing bounty and Dawood's lust forced them to move forward.
Outside the factory, the sound of engines became louder and louder from far to near. The second, third, and fourth modified tanks were running over the barbed wire fence and rushing in. The machine guns in the tanks were already aimed at the battlefield.
On the rooftops of the slums in the distance, more than a dozen motorcycles were also gathering in this direction. The riders held homemade bombs in their hands and had crazy eyes.
Fu Haoran stood in front of the broken floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor, looking down at all this, holding the infamous Dawood in his hand.
It's just that at this time, Dawood has long lost the arrogance of the past. He has a bruised nose and a swollen face, and only a flattering expression remains on his face.
"Keep calling people and increase the reward!"
Dawood I can't believe my ears. Do you dare to believe that the enemy actively asked you to move reinforcements?
Also increase the reward?
Dawood felt that the killing god in front of him was not very smart, but then he thought about it, this was his only chance to escape at the moment, so he immediately picked up the walkie-talkie without hesitation and said sternly, "Quick! Call everyone here, quick!"
On the other side, Anya hugged Fu Haoran tightly, also puzzled.
But she didn't dare ask.
Encrypted communication is connected.
Kallen's mechanical prosthetic eyes flashed red, and his tone was filled with excitement. "Sir Governor! The test data is perfect! The neural connection delay is less than 0.1 milliseconds, Plasteel's armor resistance to armor-piercing bullets meets the standard, and the stability of the Predator Clan's stealth system has been improved by 37%!"
Fu Haoran looked at Ronan who was chopping melons and vegetables, and was not satisfied. "Can it be improved?"
Kallen suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured on him. He was a dignified Tech-Priest. Having seen the almost paranoid pursuit of technology by the mortal in front of him, he actually felt a little ashamed.
"Sir, this is the limit of what we can do." Kallen sighed, feeling that it would not be a good thing to meet a boss who is more striving for excellence than himself.
"Following your instructions, we abandoned the assembled structure of multiple ring-shaped armor plates and replaced it with a combination of large rigid armor plates and flexible joints. This slightly reduced the freedom of movement of this type of armor, but greatly improved the production and maintenance performance."
"Considering that the weight of this type of armor is also significantly lower than that of MKII, the flexibility of the new power armor's movement is actually stronger than that of MKII, and such improvements do not sacrifice the protective performance of the armor."
"In addition, the backpack is more integrated, lighter, more efficient, and has improved exhaust emissions."
"The integration of Arc Reactor allows Power Armour to provide more energy, allowing us to carry more energy weapons."
"Sir, I don't understand." Kallen still couldn't hold it back, "The actual combat data of this armor has far exceeded the original MKII."
"We Machine Cult have spent hundreds of years failing to make improvements like yours, why do you still persist----"
"Kallen." Fu Haoran interrupted him, "I know exactly what we are going to face next."
"We are at an absolute disadvantage in terms of military strength and must rely on equipment to narrow the gap."
Kallen sighed, "Sir, our technical reserves are not enough to support our further improvement."
"You should know that we have previously used neural connections from Force Feedback Power Armor, not Space Marine."
"The Iron Man battle suit you provided is just a showpiece. It is too delicate, has high maintenance costs, and has a complex design and low output."
"Both Liejue and Iron Monger use force feedback systems, which have high latency and will be a burden when used by Space Marine."
"Only MKII's neural connection architecture can adapt to Space Marine's Black Carapace, turning the armor into a second layer of skin."
"Currently we can only carry out small-scale manufacturing and cannot carry out mass production."
Kallen said it a bit euphemistically. On the surface, he was saying that mass production was impossible, but in fact, he was saying that it was impossible to improve the Mark II in a short time.
Fu Haoran sighed, "I was too impatient, please take your time."
As someone who is familiar with the history of Warhammer, Fu Haoran knows that the best Power Armour is naturally MarkX.
Fu Haoran wanted to get it right in one step, even if it gave Kallen ideas and directions, but as the crystallization of human technology, Tech-Priest Archmagos Belisarius·Cawl took nearly ten thousand years to develop MarkX.
Fu Haoran knows that it is impossible to rely on two half-hearted people like himself and Kallen.
Even if we settle for the next best thing and devote all our efforts to developing Mark IV, the progress is still slow.
"Yes, if it were so easy, the empire would not have failed to significantly improve Space Marine's Power Armour in the past ten thousand years, or even regressed for a long time."
Fu Haoran sighed and said, "The test is over here. First make sure that we can produce the improved MarkII Power Armour, and then gradually upgrade it through subsequent iterations, moving in the modular direction I require."
"Understood!" Kallen responded immediately.
Communication hung up.
The gunshots in the corridor were already sparse.
The four-unit automatic Grenade Launcher on Ronan's waist began to roar, and the 10mm smart grenade accurately exploded at the three most densely populated locations.
Steel balls and fragments turned the stairwell into a meat grinding ground without blind spots, and screams could be heard one after another.
There was a thug hiding in the corner, holding an AK and shooting wildly. The bullet hit the MarkII's armor and spattered Mars.
Ronan didn't look back, punched the attacker in the head with his backhand.
Fu Haoran saw this scene and shook his head. "Ronan still can't control the intensity, it's a waste."
"Forget it, let's stop here."
"Attention everyone! Laser device switches to stun mode! Targets will be captured alive first, and a reward of 100 credits will be awarded for each one captured alive!" The company commander's roar covered the noise on the battlefield.
As the currency of Alpha Hive City, although the purchasing power of credit points is far inferior to that of Throne Coin, for ordinary people, it is already a very considerable wealth, equivalent to 1,000 US dollars of 2K World.
Hearing the words "credit points", the eyes of the soldiers who were still a little undisciplined instantly brightened up.
"Company 7, charge with me!"
"Quick, these are all ours, don't let any of them get away!"
"Keep the fastest one for me! That's mine!"
Dawood's men were completely confused when they looked at this group of soldiers who suddenly appeared and looked even more fierce than them. They thought that there would be a fierce battle when they met the regular army, but they didn't expect that the way the other party looked at them was not looking at the enemy at all, but looking at walking gold coins.
After all, this is a valuable experience passed down by our ancestors.
At the moment, this group of "soldiers" who have appeared are obviously not something they can deal with.
But just as they were about to escape, the third brother was horrified to discover that the "soldiers" on the opposite side looked at them like hungry wolves looking at a herd of sheep.
Why are their eyes shining?
Why do they only see the desire for wealth and money?
Mom, I'm so scared.
Some timid thugs turned around and ran away, and more people followed.
"Damn it! These fat sheep are running away, hurry up and chase them!"
"Fire the bayonet. The governor only wants to keep the body intact, not alive."
"Don't use the Laser device, there is no reward for blowing up the body!"
"Fuck, why didn't you tell me earlier!"
"Hurry up and chase, how can these thugs run away so well!"
"I usually ask you to practice running, as if I am trying to harm you, but now the cooked duck is about to run away."
"Alright, company commander, stop talking and chase him. Other companies have already arrested many people."
"Do you still need me to teach you? Shoot, use non-lethal mode!"
"Go to the perimeter, don't let them escape."
Dawood looked at the chaotic stronghold, and his mind went blank.
The fortress that he was so proud of had now become a huge cage of trapped beasts, with the few passages blocked and the people inside unable to get out at all.
More and more of his men were brought down.
The white knife goes in, the red knife comes out.
Dawood collapsed on the ground, his crotch wet, looking at the corpses on the ground, his teeth chattering. "Impossible----impossible----I have more than 50,000 men!"
This stronghold is the largest lair of Dawood in New Delhi. There are more than 3,000 resident thugs, plus the manpower that can be summoned at any time from the surrounding slums, the total number exceeds 50,000.
Fu Haoran glanced down at him, curled his lips, and ordered Wade next to him, "Continue to let him shake people. If he can't shake him, get rid of him."
Wade was hesitant to speak. He felt that this was a bit underhanded and just waiting to collect the corpses. However, when he thought of the value of these "Wetware talents", the discomfort in his heart was not worth mentioning.
"It's an adult, I will take care of it."
Wade winked, and a soldier wearing Power Armour stepped forward, grabbed Dawood's collar with one hand, and lifted him up like a chicken.
"No! Don't! I have money! I'll give you money!" Dawood was howling like a ghost, kicking his hands and feet wildly.
The reception room finally became quiet, leaving only the strong smell of blood and gunpowder smoke.
Fu Haoran glanced at Anya who was still clutching his arm and said, "Let's go, we have nothing to do here."