For the next two days, Bai Zihan didn’t stop working.
Every waking moment was spent clearing sectors, routing monsters, and sweeping through collapsed buildings with his squad.
Bai Zihan had also gotten used to his body and could easily take down those Demonic Beasts without much problem.
His strength was terrifying—more than a few civilians started whispering that their “Captain Bai” might be more monstrous than cultivators.
After all, in the face of Bai Zihan, even Demonic Beasts started to run away in fear.
And by the end of the second day, the results spoke for themselves.
They had rescued over a hundred more survivors—many hiding in cellars, some injured and malnourished, others too scared to speak at first.
All of them looked at Bai Zihan like he was some heroic figure, especially once they saw the beast corpses being dragged back behind him like it was nothing.
Even more valuable than people, they found enough food for everyone.
A hidden warehouse belonging to a merchant guild had somehow gone undestroyed by the Demonic Beasts.
Dozens of crates—rice, dried meat, spirit grain, even preserved vegetables. Enough to keep the entire shelter alive for weeks.
But Bai Zihan’s focus wasn’t just on food or numbers.
It was on a different kind of weapon.
Because he’d also found everything else he needed.
Charcoal!
Sulfur!
Potassium nitrate—already gathered thanks to Hong Tao.
The black powder was ready to be made.
***
Late that night, after the shelter had quieted and the rescued civilians were eating in peace, Bai Zihan stood in a secluded alley behind the shelter with Hong Tao beside him.
Lao Shen had provided a small metal bowl, and the two of them huddled around it like children preparing to commit arson.
Bai Zihan had mixed the powder by hand.
Three parts potassium nitrate, one part charcoal, one part sulfur. The ratio wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
“Ready?”
Bai Zihan asked.
Hong Tao blinked at the black powder.
“Are those materials together going to do something?”
He doubted it, because those were mostly seen as harmless materials, and he didn’t think anything would happen from just mixing them together.
Bai Zihan didn’t answer. He lit a long stick of scavenged cloth dipped in oil and tossed it in.
“Get back!”
Hong Tao didn’t understand, but did as Bai Zihan ordered.
BOOOOOM!
The alley lit up for a split second.
A deep pop thundered off the walls, followed by a cloud of acrid smoke and a scorch mark the size of a dinner plate.
Hong Tao stumbled back, coughing, his eyes wide.
“What the f*ck?!”
He shouted in shock and then covered his mouth, knowing that he had just cursed in front of Captain Bai.
He thought Bai Zihan was overestimating whatever it was, but now he realized how careless the captain was.
If he’d been a bit closer, he thought he would’ve been turned to dust instantly.
(Just how?)
Despite seeing everything, he still couldn’t comprehend just how it was possible.
Bai Zihan smirked, brushing dust off his sleeves.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
The explosive was ready.
Now all it needed was to be paired up with a gun—and those Demonic Beasts would be nothing but target practice.
***
The explosion shook the stillness of the night.
BOOOOM!
It echoed through the ruined city like thunder from an angry god, rattling windows and sending terrified screams ringing out from the shelter.
Inside the shelter, bowls of food clattered to the floor.
Children burst into tears from the noise.
A few of the newly rescued survivors curled up in panic, convinced the Demonic Beasts had returned—stronger than before.
Soldiers scrambled to grab their weapons.
Even Lao Shen, half-asleep and already drunk, came stumbling out of his tent shirtless, dragging his sword behind him like some half-dead ghost.
“What was that?!”
Someone shouted.
“A Demonic Beast?”
“It’s in the direction of where Captain and Hong Tao went.”
“Captain must be fighting the Demonic Beast. We should go and help!”
…
A few formed a defensive line, their hands shaking as they aimed rusty spears and salvaged crossbows at the entrance.
Others were ready to go and support Bai Zihan, who they certainly thought was fighting.
Just as panic threatened to spiral out of control—
Two figures emerged from the alley.
Hong Tao, coughing and covered in black soot like a cartoon explosion victim, stumbled forward with both arms raised.
Then he saw the guards who were almost about to shoot arrows at them. He quickly came to a conclusion about why they were so on edge.
“Calm down! We are not Demonic Beasts!”
Hong Tao yelled.
Everyone froze.
“There was a huge explosion. Hong Tao, do you know what it was?”
Someone inquired.
Hong Tao wheezed, smacked his chest a few times, and then jabbed a thumb behind him at Bai Zihan, who strolled out like nothing had happened.
“Your Captain’s just out here playing with fire!”
There was a pause. A long, tense moment where no one said a word.
Then someone finally asked, “…What kind of fire makes that kind of noise?!”
Bai Zihan, completely unfazed, reached up to brush ash from his hair. “A very useful kind,” he said casually.
“Anyway, there is no Demonic Beast, so you can let down your guard,”
Hong Tao said.
Another beat of stunned silence.
Then the fear began to shift—morphing into a strange mixture of awe and disbelief.
Some of the soldiers who’d served under Bai Zihan before started chuckling nervously, patting each other on the back.
“Captain Bai made that?”
“That explosion came from him?”
“No wonder the beasts are scared of him…”
Hong Tao sighed like a man who’d just realized he was stuck on a sinking ship piloted by a madman.
“Listen,” he said, turning back to the crowd. “It’s fine. Really. We were just testing something. No more explosions tonight.”
Probably.
“Go back to your food. The Captain’s working on something to kill beasts more efficiently, that’s all.”
Someone from the rescued civilians called out timidly, “Will it keep us safe?”
Bai Zihan looked at them and smiled.
“No,” he said. “It’ll make them regret ever coming here.”
That shut everyone up real quick.
They stared at him—some wide-eyed, some smiling faintly, others nodding like they’d just decided to worship this man as the God of Death himself.
And with that, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves.
***
The next morning, Lao Shen delivered.
The weapon looked crude. Ugly, even.
But it was a gun!
A thick, reinforced barrel forged from blacksteel, set into a stock carved from Demonic Beast bone.
The grip was clunky, the hammer mechanism basic, and the trigger creaked when pulled.
But it has all the functionality of a gun.
“I made it just like you described—those things you called ’bullets,’ packed with that black powder inside. But I still don’t get what you’re planning to do with them,”
Lao Shen said.
“Appreciated!”
Bai Zihan thanked Lao Shen.
“How about you accompany me to test this weapon?”
Bai Zihan asked.
“That’s what I want to do anyway. I want to see whether I truly invested my time correctly, or if it was just a waste of time,”
Lao Shen replied.
Hong Tao stayed silent, just watching the conversation between the two.
Just from yesterday’s explosion, he knew that the weapon wasn’t anything simple.
Perhaps it was really something that could save Ironmist from its disaster.
They went out to the testing range—a field outside the shelter walls that had become their designated explosion zone.
Hong Tao set up a large plank of broken armor at the far end. It wasn’t usable, but it was good to test out the strength of the gun.
“Ready?”
He asked, barely keeping his excitement in check.
Bai Zihan nodded and took aim.
Pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
The recoil jolted his arm—nothing he couldn’t handle—but the force of it shocked everyone watching.
The Iron Armor was pierced.
Splinters rained down, and a smoking hole was left in the center the size of a grown man’s fist.
One should know that the armor was very strong—it usually took a few attacks from Demonic Beasts before it broke down.
But now, one shot was all it took.
Lao Shen’s jaw dropped.
Hong Tao screamed.
“HOLY SH*T!”
Bai Zihan simply grinned.
He looked down at the smoking barrel and exhaled slowly.
Then he turned to them.
“This,” he said, lifting the gun, “is the beginning.”
***
And it really was.
Because with black powder and a working prototype, mass production was possible.
Lao Shen was already muttering about revolver chambers, better triggers, rifled barrels, and modular sights.
He also gathered other capable people, among whom were some blacksmiths—less skilled than him but previously repairing equipment—now repurposed to make guns and bullets.
Hong Tao was testing powder stability, adjusting the ratios to make the explosions cleaner.
And the civilians—those wide-eyed, trembling people who’d once been too scared to step outside—were now lining up to get trained in how to load and fire one.
Now, it was time for the counterattack!