“White devils…should all die.”

  A deep curse came from the other side, someone gritting their teeth, eyes burning with hatred.

  Elo caught the word and followed the slaves' resentful gazes to the other end of the trench.

  There stood a group of soldiers dressed in dark military uniforms, with intricate crests embroidered on their chests—

  an eagle with wings spread wide, looking down on the battlefield, silently proud.

  Their uniforms had a typical European style, with elaborate yet practical decorations on the cuffs, epaulets, and military caps.

  Although their uniforms were stained with the dust and mud from the trench, they still maintained a certain order typical of soldiers.

  Some soldiers had metal armor covering their chests, reflecting a cold, hard gleam in the fading light of the setting sun.

  The buttons were fastened meticulously, weapons tightly gripped, and some even wiped the dust off their rifle stocks during moments of free time.

  Each carried a standard-issue rifle on their shoulders, with bayonets that gleamed with a chilling light at their waists.

  In contrast, most of the slaves were bare-handed, without even a decent spear.

  Although they are in the same trench, they enjoy better cover, while the slaves are positioned in the most dangerous spot.

  These were not makeshift, ragtag soldiers, but a regular army.

  These soldiers had not been sent to charge the frontlines but were maintaining order in the trench.

  They were likely "covering troops," or perhaps "supervisory troops."

  Their main responsibility was probably to ensure the slaves would not escape, and after the artillery fire ceased, use the slaves to push the frontlines forward.

  Some soldiers crouched at the trench's edge, slightly peeking over to observe the situation ahead, confirming the range of artillery coverage.

  Their officers did not shout commands but gave brief gestures to direct their subordinates to adjust positions, the entire unit displaying the tactical discipline of strict training.

  White Devils—

  Hatred churned and boiled within this term, like flames scorching the very souls of the enslaved.

  White—Their skin, pale as frost.

  Devil—The enslaved’s deep, ingrained hatred toward them.

  This name was not merely a slur—it was a curse, a condemnation seared into the heart of suffering.

  Yet, the translation made Elo frown.

  —Why had the system chosen the word "White Devils"?

  He couldn't be sure if these slaves had ever been influenced by some ancient culture,

  but the weight of the word was undeniable, its emotion burning like an invisible fire in the air.

  In this world, the enslaved needed a name—a name to curse their oppressors.

  A "Devil" was not an ordinary enemy, not a mere foe, but something inhuman.

  A tormentor. A pillager. The nightmare they had seen reflected in pools of blood.

  Perhaps this name carried a meaning far deeper than Elo had imagined.

  He fell silent for a moment and chose not to dwell on it further.

  For in every era, on every land, when hatred reaches its breaking point, there will always be those who create their own devils.

  Elo once again looked at the white soldiers, his gaze sweeping over their uniforms and equipment, his brow furrowing slightly.

  There was a certain familiarity in their attire — the tailoring was precise, the style unified, with distinct European military influences.

  He remembered seeing similar styles in movies —

  high-collared uniforms, double-breasted designs, gold embroidery on the epaulets, and cuff decorations resembling military rank insignia.

  Heavy military boots stomped on the muddy trench floor, and the leather gaiters reflected faint light.

  Then there were the weapons; Elo’s eyes fell on the rifles.

  The barrels were long, the stocks heavy, lacking the precise metallic feel of modern firearms, more resembling smoothbore or rifled muskets.

  The most obvious feature was the bayonets mounted on the muzzle, standard equipment for infantry in the 18th and 19th centuries.

  The fact that these soldiers were still using such tactical gear meant that their military tactics were still based on line firing and bayonet charges.

  All of this pointed to one fact — this world had entered the "Steam Age"!

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  Their country, whether in culture, economy, or military organization, had at least reached the level of 18th-19th century Europe.

  Elo’s gaze slightly tightened, unable to stop himself from thinking of that word again.

  — Tian Dao (天道).

  The appearance of this word suggested that this world was highly likely to be a Xianxia world.

  But if it were a Xianxia world, where did the industrial system of the Steam Age come from?

  Smoothbore guns, trenches, artillery—

  These technologies were all standard products of the Industrial Revolution, completely at odds with his understanding of a Xianxia world.

  In a Xianxia world, the cultivation system dominates societal development.

  The technological development path usually revolves around spiritual energy, talismans, flying swords, and alchemy, not machinery, gunpowder, or steam engines.

  But here?

  Everything was filled with the rationality and coldness of the Industrial Revolution, completely incompatible with the logic of a cultivation civilization.

  Of course, Elo did not believe that a Xianxia world had to forever remain in the cold weapon age.

  But if it truly developed industrialization, the system should reflect some aspects of Xianxia culture.

  He set this question aside for now. At this moment, Elo was more concerned with another question.

  If this were a Xianxia world, it would mean that there existed a set of transcendental knowledge related to "Xianxia."

  Unable to find a more accurate term, Elo temporarily referred to it as the "Xian Dao System".

  And the countries and factions based on this system could be classified as the "Xian Dao Factions".

  So, did those soldiers also belong to the Xian Dao Factions?

  Elo had a clear answer—impossible.

  Why was he so certain? The reason lay in keeping long hair.

  (For more on long hair, please refer to the detailed explanation in [Chapter-35.5].)

  In Xianxia novels, hair is seen as a natural attribute, a symbol connecting life with Tian Dao.

  Cultivators believe that "natural gifts should not be casually damaged," and the body should align with the natural order of heaven and earth, not be deliberately altered.

  These settings in Xianxia novels are culturally grounded—

  For example, Daoism emphasizes "aligning with Tian Dao," while Confucianism upholds the belief that " One’s body, hair, and skin are received from one’s parents and must not be harmed."

  The Chinese tradition of hair cultivation lasted until 1911, and for many long years before that, it was nearly a universal cultural habit.

  Thus, this culture also seeped into Xianxia novels.

  Mortals would imitate the appearance of cultivators, believing that long hair symbolized nobility, wisdom, and even spirituality.

  Disciples of cultivation sects would rarely cut their hair, as it was seen as part of their connection to the path of transcendence—unless they chose to become monks.

  These soldiers, without exception, had short hair; even the slightly longer ones barely reached their necks.

  Their beards were completely shaved, showing no trace of Xian Dao culture.

  In stark contrast, the slaves all had long hair, without exception.

  Then, if these soldiers did not belong to the Xian Dao Faction, which faction did they belong to?

  Elo could not draw a definitive conclusion from the current information, but he shifted his way of thinking.

  He asked himself in his mind:

  — In your understanding, what kind of faction could rival the Xian Dao Faction?

  — What kind of power would have the qualifications to divide the world with the Xian Dao Faction?

  At the very moment of contemplation, a powerful intuition tore through his consciousness like a bolt of lightning.

  Magic, faith, technology...

  Mages, clergy, knights...

  Gods, angels, demons...

  Dwarves, elves, dragons, beastmen...

  Only a faction of this magnitude could possibly stand on equal footing with the Xian Dao Faction in carving up the world.

  Elo’s eyelids twitched violently as he couldn't help but grumble inwardly:

  — Holy sh*t, there’s no way in hell they can coexist peacefully! We should be grateful the world hasn’t been destroyed already!

  Elo suppressed the speechless feeling in his heart, made an effort to calm himself, and then began thinking about another question:

  — Then, what should this faction be called?

  The answer was self-evident—the Fantasy Faction.

  This was not a conclusion reached through reasoning but a result directly given by his intuition.

  Yet, Elo trusted his intuition.

  (Author’s Note: The naming of the Fantasy Faction is a major foreshadowing. Who knows when this plot thread will be resolved…）

  Because he was well aware that his intuition was not ordinary—it was Transcendent Intuition.

  Although Elo didn’t fully understand the nature of this ability, he knew it was something closer to fate’s guidance—a supernatural power beyond common reasoning.

  And Elo was certain he was not an ordinary Transcendent; as long as his intuition wasn’t being interfered with, its accuracy was remarkably high.

  Of course, there was always the possibility that his intuition had been disrupted. But at this moment, who would even be interfering with him? Who would deliberately target him?

  Thus, he chose to trust his intuition.

  Since the existence of the [Xian Dao Faction] and the [Fantasy Faction] is now clear, let's revisit this war.

  On the surface, this war appears to be a conflict between nations.

  But from a deeper perspective, it is also a confrontation between two great transcendent factions.

  Therefore, this war is far from as simple as it seems.

  As an outsider, Elo knew he could not intervene easily.

  Elo shook his head, pushing these troubling thoughts aside, and instead focused on the next question.

  — Is this a true otherworld, or a parallel universe of [Origin: Ark - Earth Universe]?

  A true otherworld? A parallel universe of [Origin: Ark - Earth Universe]?

  Is it necessary to distinguish so clearly?

  Elo's answer was — yes, it is.

  If this world is a parallel universe of [Origin: Ark - Earth Universe], it would mean —

  the history of this world was once the same as the world he was familiar with, until some key point where a divergence occurred, ultimately leading to a completely different future.

  In other words, the place Elo currently finds himself in is highly likely to still be Earth within the solar system.

  But if this is not a parallel world of [Origin: Ark - Earth Universe], but rather a completely independent otherworld, then the situation is far more complex than imagined —

  it would mean that the place Elo is in is not Earth in the solar system at all, and the humans here might not even belong to the "Earth-Human Civilization."

  If that is the case, then why do the same human races still exist here?

  Why does the social structure and cultural system of this world bear such a striking resemblance to Earth?

  What is the reason behind this? Is it just a coincidence, or is there something else at play?

  Elo had no answers and didn’t want to waste time on meaningless speculation.

  However, this question itself was worth making a goal.

  Since he had already stepped into this world, he should at least find a direction for his journey.

  Elo couldn’t help but chuckle:

  — Ah, young one, go seek the truth, explore the origins of it all.

  But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a wave of frustration hit him.

  After all, he wasn’t exactly a "young one" anymore—he was already thirty this year.

  As for what benefits would come from uncovering the truth?

  That wasn’t something Elo cared about. Even if the final answer turned out to be worthless, he would still seek it out.

  He knew deeply that the meaning of the journey was never in the destination, but in everything that happened along the way.

  For Elo, the experiences and feelings along the way were the things that should be cherished the most.

  However, before officially embarking on his journey, Elo had one more thing to resolve —

  What should he call this world?

  And how should he clearly distinguish it from [Origin: Ark - Earth Universe]?

  This question lingered in his mind for no more than 50 milliseconds, and the answer quickly emerged.

  — First stop: Xian Dao and Fantasy- The Steam Era.