Seeing Luoshu's disbelief, Jeanne grew flustered, her face flushing red.
She hurriedly explained, "I've been a fan of Joan of Arc since I was a child! I swore to become as great as her! I've studied military treatises—even your Hua Kingdom's Art of War and Wumu's Legacy!"
At this, even Aiolos chuckled. "Book-smart doesn't mean battle-smart. If you've read Hua's military texts, you should know the story of Zhao Kuo."
Jeanne shot him a glare. "I have practical experience too! Have you heard of Hell Let Loose?"
Aiolos nodded. *"That WWII-themed FPS? The 50v50 tactical one? Yeah, it's hardcore—almost realistic in its strategy."*
Good—he knew his stuff. Jeanne puffed out her chest proudly. "I'm the top-ranked EU commander—Blood!"
"No way!" Aiolos' eyes widened in shock.
"The one and only. I used a voice changer to sound like an old man so people would take me seriously."
Now Aiolos was fully convinced. He turned to Luoshu, nodding vigorously—"You struck gold with this one!"
As a former intelligence officer for Achilles' Heel, his endorsement carried weight.
Then, Luoshu remembered another crucial detail—Jeanne was a Child of Fate!
Blessed by the world's will, her luck was absurd.
Even if her tactical skills were lacking, any enemy facing her would suffer Final Destination-level misfortunes—like a single nail toppling an empire.
Luck is part of strength. And for a Child of Fate, it was their greatest weapon.
Since Luoshu himself lacked command expertise (being more suited for solo combat), he tentatively agreed to let Jeanne lead the future Transformer army.
Aiolos, meanwhile, could return to his roots—intelligence support.
With this, Anomalous Item-100 officially transitioned into a full military operation, no longer just a money-making scheme for Anomalous Item-100-1.
Once roles were assigned, Luoshu couldn't sit still.
It was time for his first strike—Site-17.
Yes. He'd start with the very heart of "God's" power, making that old bastard feel his rage.
Jianjia's soul was preserved, but revival was uncertain.
So before then—he'd raze Site-17 to the ground. A down payment on vengeance.
But first, he had to secure his base.
Anomalous Item-100 was now his stronghold—it had to be impenetrable.
Luoshu waited a full day, systematically brainwashing every shift of the Foundation's surveillance team.
Now, with loyalists guarding the facility, coming and going would be effortless—no need for Reverse-Meme stealth.
Even supply logistics could be handled by them. Why waste good pawns?
Three days after returning, Luoshu set out again.
By dawn, he stood in Site-17, Florida.
No distractions. He headed straight for the server room.
"I'm taking you. What equipment needs removal? How long?"
The mainframe was already his devout follower. "Master, if you want just my AI, extract the server chips. If you want everything, take the blade servers."
"Just the AI and data." Luoshu cut it off.
With these, he could rebuild a supercomputer in his underground base—even construct his own anomaly containment site.
He cast Silicon-Based Intelligence on the mainframe. "I grant you transformation and evolution. Do it yourself. How long?"
The supercomputer sprouted mechanical arms and tank treads, calculating eagerly.
"Ten minutes!"
Luoshu smirked. *"Good. In fifteen, a nuke flattens Site-17. Sound the evacuation alarm—give everyone a chance to flee."*
He still couldn't bring himself to slaughter indiscriminately.
Destroying Site-17 was a statement—not a massacre.
A declaration to "God":
"My days of taking hits are over. Now, it's your turn."
As the nuclear countdown alarm blared, Site-17 erupted into chaos.
Staff scrambled out in pajamas.
At Luoshu's command, the AI flung open containment cells—humanoid anomalies and D-class poured into the halls.
How many would escape? Not his concern.
Watching the monitors, Luoshu saw the Foundation's collapse—and "God's" ruin—reflected in the pandemonium.
This was the future he craved.
Then—a figure pushed open the server room door.
"So it is you. Why?"
Luoshu didn't turn. "He's done worse. Ask him."
A sigh. "Fine. I trust your judgment."
Now, Luoshu turned, smiling. "I know this puts you in a tough spot. But I have questions."
"Ask. If I know, I'll answer."
Luoshu exhaled. The Friend of Anomalies effect was flawless—even this ancient monster couldn't resist.
Because standing before him was Cain.
The Foundation's "living hard drive"—keeper of all secrets below Clearance Level 5.
(Level 6? That belonged to "God" alone.)
But Luoshu wanted the deepest secrets.
*"Do you remember Anomalous Item-4612-A?"*
Cain's "memory banks" whirred. "A dead Old God's corpse."
"How did It die?"
Luoshu didn't expect Cain to name Abel—but he'd watch for tells.
Instead, Cain shook his head. "The Foundation never determined the cause."
"Never determined—or never tried?" Luoshu sneered.
Cain stiffened, then fell into deep thought.
Finally, he met Luoshu's gaze. "You might be right. The files show superficial investigation—no real effort."
Exactly.
The wounds on 4612-A were obviously Abel's handiwork.
Not unknown—unacknowledged.
Luoshu pressed on. "Do you know of a meme that spreads through believers? One that turns souls into Lances of Longinus to attack specific targets?"
He'd scoured Site-33 (Birmingham's Meme Division)—no records of Meme-Longinus existed.
But Cain's memory might hold answers.
"The Lance of Longinus? The weapon that killed Christ?" Cain's eyes flickered. "Yes… I remember something."