Just how formidable were the Combat Evolution Officers descended from the Higher Era? While knowledge reserves were undoubtedly crucial, their economic might was equally formidable. Upon completing their missions and departing, each Combat Evolution Officer amassed wealth that could rival entire nations in their respective eras.

  Taking Renyu's first rookie mission as an example, set in a steampunk era, he obtained 850 kilograms of purple gold. The system's disturbance rating at the time was 85 points. In his second promotion mission overseen by Zhao Weiguo, Renyu achieved a perfect score, directly earning one ton of purple gold—not including the system's additional compensation. (Note: According to Evolution Battlefield standards, the perfect score reward is one ton of purple gold.)

  Some might consider one ton of Purple Gold insignificant, but consider this: recruiting a Genius-tier soldier requires ten kilograms of Purple Gold, while even a Smart-tier soldier demands one kilogram. In reality, neither of these elite conscripts is readily available for recruitment by a mere lieutenant. Renyu's possession of over a thousand such genius recruits stems entirely from his nuclear industry development, which demands vast reserves of specialized expertise—a talent pool typically only affordable for Combat Evolution Officers at the colonel rank.

  So what exactly is the purchasing power of one gram of Purple Gold? It can be exchanged for roughly one ton of grain. Two grams of Purple Gold can be traded for over a ton of carbon steel. 3.3 grams of Purple Gold is equivalent to one ton of petroleum. Five grams of Purple Gold can secure one ton of premium jerky. Evolution Battlefield's exchange system offered unbeatable value, fair to all, with goods delivered directly to the battlefield. Take Yun Chenhe's last mission as an example: Renyu scored full marks, Li Ziming earned ninety-eight points, and Yun Chenhe's rating was also impressive. Combined with his prior Purple Gold reserves accumulated during the Firepower Era missions, his total holdings amounted to roughly one ton.

  In Evolution Battlefield, talent always commands a higher price than material resources.

  The 21st-century U.S. strategic reserves comprised critical raw materials like bauxite, cobalt, titanium, iridium, nickel, and rubber—stored in units of tens of thousands of tons across over 100 warehouses nationwide. Strategic stockpiles of foodstuffs and crude oil were similarly vast, truly representing wealth rivaling that of nations. Of course, these were merely paper figures—whether the actual quantities matched? Hahaha. Those in the know understand.

  The wealth gap between senior and junior officers mirrors the productivity chasm between higher and lower realms—an unbridgeable divide.

  A lieutenant colonel could easily acquire 700 to 800 kilograms of Purple Gold from a single mission, while a major would struggle to surpass 100 kilograms even at full effort. For a captain-level officer, securing nine kilograms of Purple Gold in a mission was considered an outstanding achievement.

  This current mission falls under the captain level. The resources Renyu and Yun Chenhe command are undoubtedly massive by this world's standards, but it's entirely reasonable.

  First, the mission's difficulty posed no real obstacle to them. Second, Evolution Battlefield had strategically deployed them to the continent's periphery, skillfully avoiding the sphere of influence of this world's most powerful organizations. Thus, triggering this mission proved remarkably easy for them, which also explained Xiao Feng's unwavering confidence.

  However, if Renyu and Yun Chenhe were allowed to operate completely unrestrained, the situation would likely be entirely different. The resources and knowledge they possessed were sufficient to unleash a world-altering revolution in this realm.

  The bloody spectacle unfolding around the Five-Colored Valley unexpectedly earned Yun Chenhe and Renyu their first batch of utterly devoted local followers. These commoners had no other choice—each had personally stabbed a noble. Should the Thorn Gem Empire discover such crimes, the only fate awaiting them would be agonizing screams atop the stake. Yun Chenhe deliberately reinforced this point during subsequent ideological indoctrination sessions, relentlessly emphasizing the empire's brutal rule and severing any possibility of retreat for these people.

  "Dare to betray the revolution?" Yun Chenhe warned with a cold sneer during his address. "If any of you are captured and confess under torture that you once killed nobles, the stake awaits you, too. It is your inevitable fate." These words hung like a sharp blade over every head.

  Every adult male participated in this "pledge of loyalty" ritual, forging an exceptionally resolute revolutionary spirit within the ranks. Having escaped the clutches of the nobility, they possessed a stark awareness of the atrocities they had committed. The people Yun Chenhe provided greatly satisfied Renyu—they obeyed orders without question, throwing themselves into all forms of production while remaining ready to deliver a fatal blow to the reactionary nobility at any moment (though, of course, if the reactionaries knew what these "untouchables" had done, they would surely exterminate them without mercy).

  Revolution was never a dinner party, but a life-and-death class struggle.

  Looking back at China's Liberation War era, did every Chinese person consciously and willingly support the Communist Party? Impossible. From small and medium landlords and national capitalists to impoverished peasants and urban workers, the Chinese masses were driven to the brink by the brutal oppression of Chiang Kai-shek's reactionary government, leaving them no choice but to turn to the Communist path.

  The Nationalist government's oppressive taxation, secret police rule, and rampant inflation pushed the originally neutral national bourgeoisie to the brink of bankruptcy. Even small and medium-sized landlords within the landlord class could no longer endure the oppression, longing for the Communist Party to arrive and redistribute their land. It even reached the point where slave-owning landlords, driven by oppression, were compelled to transform themselves and join the Communist Party. It was precisely this all-encompassing oppression that ultimately forced people from all walks of life to choose the Communist Party.

  But victory in war was far from the end. The nationwide bandit suppression campaigns launched immediately after the founding of New China, followed by decades of ideological reeducation and public-private joint ventures, all demonstrated that the newly established nation was far from stable.

  Upon reaching their destination, Renyu could finally put his skills to use. Guided by locals, they found a basin where blacksmiths gathered. This unique terrain was encircled by ring-shaped hills, with only one exit leading to the outer plains. Renyu studied the flat central landscape and couldn't help asking Yun Chenhe, "Is this a meteor crater?"

  Yun Chenhe shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe. I don't know much about astronomy."

  This ring-shaped landform, at least fifteen kilometers in diameter, was indeed peculiar. Irregular embankment-like slopes encircled a central, bowl-like flat area, with the center of the bowl slightly raised.

  Years of wind and rain erosion had weathered the once-complete ring into several distinct hilltops, creating gaps in the rim. Though slightly lower than the surrounding terrain, the basin remained dry thanks to its undulating topography and dense vegetation, fostering a unique ecosystem. A village of nearly a thousand people sat atop the central uplift within the basin.

  This "giant bowl" encircled by mountains featured one gap directly facing the plains surrounding the Five-Color Valley, resembling a flat expanse forcibly "carved" out of the mountainous terrain. After repeated observation, Renyu grew increasingly convinced this might be an ancient meteorite crater. Though not a geologist, his childhood obsession with treasure hunting and mining had given him considerable knowledge of such formations. Of course, this was only his preliminary assessment.

  Yun Chenhe watched Renyu lost in thought over the terrain and couldn't help asking, "Renyu, is something wrong?"

  Renyu snapped back to attention, meeting Yun Chenhe's concerned gaze. "Nothing. This location is excellent—strategically defensible. The mountainous area behind us holds ample timber for distillation. With blacksmiths already gathered here, nearby iron ore deposits are likely. With a sufficient population, we could establish a full-fledged industrial base. All we need to do next is deploy supplies and grain."

  Yun Chenhe nodded slightly, then suddenly thought of something and said, "The cost of deploying these supplies—charge it to my account."

  Renyu's lips curved into a smile. "I'm in charge of production and construction. I love this feeling of spending money like water without a care. Let me cover this expense. After all, my beginner quest is the Steam Age, so I should have more financial leeway than you."

  Yun Chenhe opened his mouth, seemingly both astonished by the difficulty of Renyu's beginner quest and feeling awkward about his generosity. Ever since Renyu had accompanied him to this quest world, the debt of gratitude seemed to grow heavier. Finally, he insisted, "We still need to keep records."

  Renyu nodded readily. "Agreed. The ledger will be fully transparent to you."

  And so, Renyu, this "human base vehicle," officially commenced operations in this world.

  Meanwhile, in Emerald Lake Village, a fifteen-year-old boy named Qing Shan struggled forward with a cane. Children from poor families matured quickly; at his age, he should have been joining hunting parties in the mountains. Unfortunately, he'd broken his leg during a recent hunt. Though named "Emerald Lake Village," it possessed no lake. Only from high vantage points did the dense forest of towering trees beyond the village resemble rippling emerald waves. What Qing Shan didn't know was that these colossal trees likely wouldn't survive another five years.

  This mountain village relied primarily on hunting. Compared to the fertile plains beyond, it was barren yet relatively safe. Villagers traded iron goods with outside merchants but strictly forbade outsiders from settling. The clan elders had always warned that strangers would shatter the village's tranquility and bring danger.

  Yet now, this centuries-old tranquility was destined to shatter. A tide of over ten thousand soldiers surged into the circular valley with overwhelming force. The hunters fought desperately but could not withstand the disciplined, heavily armed troops, swiftly disarmed. As soldiers clad in full iron armor marched into the village, Qing Shan witnessed the once most stubborn elder—the fiercest opponent of outsiders—now greeting the commanding officer with a fawning smile. The sight of such servility filled him with revulsion.

  Qingshan suddenly recalled a phrase his father had uttered before his death: "The tiger couldn't care less about the grass antelope's territorial markings carved into the trees." In that moment, he grasped its meaning profoundly—the old social order had been utterly shattered.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  That evening, all the village children were gathered together with the outsiders' children, lining up to receive food. These seemingly simple meals were nothing short of luxurious for mountain children: the grains were pure white and fine, not a single gritty grain to be found; the stewed fatty meat glistened with tempting oil; most astonishing of all was the large cup of vividly colored juice, so sweet it made Qing Shan's tongue tremble—he could swear he'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life, nothing in the mountains could compare.

  Adults queued alongside the outsiders to receive food. The villagers suddenly realized they would no longer risk their lives hunting in the mountains. This new "lord" seemed intent on making them all his subjects.

  Qingshan's mind began to wander: Perhaps the lord would take a liking to him and make him a knight's squire? Could he one day don armor, wield a sword, and become a knight worthy of admiration? A youth's fantasies were always tinged with romance.

  Yet reality proved far more astonishing than imagination. Renyu began summoning supplies. Before the eyes of the residents, piles of iron and grain materialized out of thin air on the open ground. The villagers gasped at the miracle, while a few worldly individuals explained dismissively, "It's magic. This nobleman is a revered mage."—Of course, a true mage witnessing this would never acknowledge it as magic, for magic cannot create matter nor achieve spatial teleportation.

  Renyu waved his hand lightly, and the solid steel ingots softened like dough. Conscripts immediately stepped forward, precisely cutting them with crude yet sharp steel knives. Once the softening force field was withdrawn, the cut parts rehardened, gleaming with a metallic cold light. The conscripts then organized the well-fed villagers to transport these steel components to designated locations.

  A rudimentary industrial system took shape at astonishing speed: blast furnaces rose from the ground, followed by steel ladles and hoisting equipment. Every component was finished solely by hand using rulers, cutters, sandpaper, and the conscripts' precision. For Renyu, with an Intelligence of over 5 points, building a steel mill was merely a game of assembling parts—crafting them by hand and then putting them together.

  Watching Renyu seamlessly direct multiple production lines advancing in sync, factories rapidly taking shape like living organisms, Yun Chenhe was utterly speechless. He couldn't help but marvel inwardly: "This is practically a living base vehicle!"

  Note: A Brief Discussion on Sacrificial Rituals and Cannibalism in Chinese Civilization:

  Throughout nearly five thousand years of Chinese civilization, large-scale human sacrifice and cannibalism did indeed occur. However, these practices were gradually suppressed and eventually phased out during historical evolution.

  Archaeological discoveries and historical records indicate that the Shang Dynasty, China's second dynasty with written records, widely practiced large-scale human sacrifice. Early religions commonly relied on blood and divine intimidation to maintain authority, and the primary forces driving human sacrifice were the priestly class, who controlled ritual power, and the military aristocracy, who rose to prominence through military achievements. They captured foreign slaves through warfare and used them as sacrificial offerings.

  This practice persisted until the reign of King Zhou of Shang, the dynasty's last ruler. As discussed in previous articles, the overarching trend throughout the Shang Dynasty was the gradual erosion of divine authority by royal power. During King Zhou's reign, he implemented a series of major reforms targeting the priestly class and military aristocracy: he demanded that priests cease large-scale slave sacrifices, abolished disorderly ritual practices, and strictly confined sacrificial activities to fixed dates and times. Simultaneously, he reduced the scale of daily sacrifices, decreased the number of sacrificial objects and offerings, and promoted capable slaves and commoners to participate in military and political affairs.

  These reforms directly threatened the fundamental interests of priests and the old aristocracy, sparking fierce resistance. After repeated struggles, stalemates, rebellions, and suppressions, the priestly faction led by King Zhou's elder brother ultimately seized the opportunity when the Shang army was deployed on a distant campaign. They colluded with external feudal lords and successfully overthrew the Shang dynasty.

  The feudal lord who overthrew the Shang Dynasty established the Zhou Dynasty upon its ruins. After the Zhou Dynasty was founded, its rulers made moderate concessions and compromises based on the achievements of King Zhou's reforms. On one hand, they completely abolished the practice of human sacrifice using slaves or commoners. On the other hand, they permitted the substitution of animal or clay figurines for living human offerings. Simultaneously, the Zhou Dynasty established the “Rites of Zhou”—a system somewhat analogous to India's caste system. Its core purpose was to solidify social hierarchy and occupational divisions through ritual norms, thereby maintaining the ruling order.

  Building upon this foundation, the Zhou Dynasty continued and intensified the Shang practice of reducing sacrificial frequency, explicitly stipulating that sacrifices could only be performed during fixed seasonal periods each year. It centralized all sacrificial authority under the Zhou king, strictly prohibiting feudal lords and nobles from conducting private rituals. Concurrently, the Zhou royal house enfeoffed meritorious subjects, granting them governance rights within their respective fiefdoms, while sacrificial authority remained firmly in the hands of the Zhou Son of Heaven. During the nearly six centuries of Zhou rule, the Zhou king was further sanctified as the “Son of Heaven,” who established ritual protocols for different social classes and severely punished any violations of these regulations.

  More crucially, the Zhou Rites imposed strict regulations on social hierarchies and occupations across all strata. Under this system, large-scale human sacrifice would directly undermine the social structures and labor supply of fiefdoms. Consequently, the practice of sacrificing humans gradually faded, replaced by the widespread use of animals or clay figurines as substitutes. This tradition persisted into China's imperial era. Within this cultural milieu, the emerging bureaucratic class naturally developed an instinctive aversion to human sacrifice and bloody rituals. Under their influence, blood sacrifices diminished further, evolving into offerings of cooked food and animal sacrifices. This ultimately shaped the dominant Chinese sacrificial practices that endure to this day.

  Concurrently, Confucianism—the core ideology of Chinese civilization—consistently advocated a “people-centered” philosophy, emphasizing that human life should not be arbitrarily taken unless it violates prevailing moral and legal standards. Within China's political tradition, officials implicated in human sacrifice or human burial rites faced disgrace: minor offenses led to expulsion from political circles, while severe cases implicated entire families. Compounded by Chinese civilization's emphasis on historical documentation, individuals or families associated with human sacrifice or blood offerings were invariably branded with eternal infamy in the annals of history. Even emperors tainted by such crimes found it difficult to leave a favorable legacy. Figures like Shi Sui, Shi Hu, Fu Deng, Murong Jun, Duan Kan, Xie Hun, Zhu Wen, Liu Yan, and Zhao Siwan—nobles and princes who once ruled over regions—were all documented in historical records for their association with blood sacrifices or atrocities. They became negative examples repeatedly condemned by subsequent dynasties.

  It was precisely this long-standing humanistic influence that led the bureaucratic class within the Chinese civilizational system to adopt a cautious, even resistant, attitude toward various religions—especially early religions and their derivative cults, which were often accompanied by bloody and cruel sacrificial rites. Consequently, the fundamental stance of successive bureaucracies toward religion was one of neither support nor encouragement. Upon discovering blood sacrifices or religious expansion reaching uncontrollable levels—whether involving Buddhism, Taoism, or other sects—they invariably resorted to military suppression to maintain social stability.

  After establishing the People's Republic of China, the Communist Party of China undertook a round of religious reorganization, blending historical traditions with governance needs: certain branches of Taoism and Han Buddhism were expelled due to historical reasons; Tibetan Buddhism underwent democratic reforms abolishing feudal serfdom to align with socialist society; Christianity faced strict rectification, severing ties with foreign powers and implementing the “Three-Self” principle of self-governance, self-support, and self-propagation. Islam, having entered China earlier and gradually shedding primitive religious elements like blood sacrifices through long-term evolution, faced relatively minor impacts and retained more intact religious customs.

  Concurrently, the new Chinese government explicitly refused to recognize any new religious sects established after 1949, with most subsequent religious organizations classified as cults and suppressed. This policy continued China's historical tradition of strict control over ritual authority and vigilance against unregulated religious activities.

  Notably, some expelled Taoist and Han Chinese Buddhist branches, along with certain Tibetan Buddhist factions (led by the 14th Dalai Lama), largely migrated to the Americas. There, they merged and evolved with local Protestant-derived sects. It is said that these branches later helped standardize ritual practices, sacrificial offerings, and doctrines among various emerging cults—though that, of course, is another story altogether.

  Additionally, discussions about “cannibalism” have never truly ceased on Chinese soil. Chinese historical records document numerous related cases, yet within traditional Chinese thought, eating human flesh has always been viewed as an extreme measure of survival, not a common practice.

  The Chinese worldview typically divides history into eras of turmoil and eras of peace.

  Eras of turmoil refer to periods of extreme calamity marked by large-scale warfare, famine, locust plagues, floods, and epidemics. During such times, people might resort to any means necessary to survive, including cannibalism.

  In contrast, during eras of peace, cannibalism faced intense social condemnation. Anyone implicated in such acts faced severe punishment, often extending to the entire family.

  Since Emperor Qin Shi Huang unified China and ushered Chinese civilization into the imperial era, the core eastern regions have actually experienced relatively brief periods of large-scale chaos. Below is the unification timeline for major dynasties:

  Qin Empire: From the conquest of Han in 230 BCE to the subjugation of Qi in 221 BCE, unification took 26 years.

  Western Han Empire: From the uprising against Qin in 209 BCE to Liu Bang's ascension as emperor in 202 BCE, unifying the core regions took approximately 11 to 15 years.

  Eastern Han Empire: From Liu Xiu's rebellion in 22 CE to the conquest of Gongsun Shu in 36 CE, unification took 11 years.

  Western Jin Empire: From the Gaopingling Incident in 249 CE to the conquest of Eastern Wu in 280 CE, spanning 31 years.

  Sui Empire: From assuming regency in 580 CE to subduing Southern Chen in 589 CE, spanning 8 years.

  Tang Empire: From the uprising in 617 AD to the basic elimination of separatist forces and completion of unification in 624 AD, spanning 7 years.

  Song Empire: From the Chenqiao Mutiny in 960 AD to the basic realization of unification, spanning approximately 19 years.

  Yuan Empire: From Kublai Khan's renaming of the state to Great Yuan in 1271 AD to the elimination of the Southern Song remnants and completion of unification in 1279 AD, spanning 8 years; if counted from Temüjin's unification of the Mongol tribes, it spanned approximately 63 years.

  Ming Empire: From Zhu Yuanzhang joining the rebel forces in 1353 to national unification in 1381, spanning 28 years.

  Qing Empire: From Nurhaci's unification of the Jurchen tribes in 1583 to the basic unification of most of China in 1662, spanning 79 years. However, nearly four decades of this period involved a standoff with the Ming Empire in the Liaodong region, during which the Ming Empire's core territories remained largely in a state of relative peace.

  Modern China: From the abdication of the Qing emperor in 1912 to the founding of the People's Republic in 1949, spanning 37 years.

  The three periods in Chinese history characterized by the longest duration and widest scope of warfare were: The Five Barbarians and Sixteen Kingdoms period (lasting approximately 135 years, during which the south and north were frequently unified by different regimes and faced off across the Qinling Mountains-Huai River line); The Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period (lasting approximately 72 years, during which some regions and people developed the horrific practice of cannibalism, later gradually corrected by the Song Empire).

  From this unification process, it is evident that the truly extreme periods forcing people to resort to cannibalism for survival typically lasted around twenty to forty years. Surviving these hardships often paved the way for relatively stable periods of peace lasting nearly 250 years or more. Therefore, in Chinese history, cannibalism never became a habit or cultural norm; at most, it was an extreme survival tactic adopted under desperate circumstances. Once peace returned, such practices were swiftly eradicated by society.

  This is precisely why ordinary Chinese people often react with astonishment, fear, and incomprehension upon learning that cannibalism exists among the elite classes of certain Western nations—for in the worldview of most Chinese, the vast majority of the modern world resides in an era of peace where such atrocities should not occur.