I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 249 Those inside want to get out, those outside want to get in.

After three hours, under Tang Ren's various arbitrary orders, their camp finally looked... less like a bandit's den.

After Tang Ren's repeated shouts, the soldiers finally emerged from their tents and fortifications, forming several crooked rows in the open space in front of the camp. They tried to straighten their backs, slinging their laser guns across their chests, attempting to imitate the standard military salutes they remembered. However, their habitually lax gazes and occasional whispering revealed the true nature of this unit.

Regan stood at the front of the group, followed by Tang Ren, Cai Ji, and Fei Wu. He looked expressionlessly at his "elite troops," feeling his blood pressure surging and rising along with the poison gas from Plantim.

“I’m saying,” Fei Wu lowered his voice, the taste of ant beef still lingering in his mouth, “do we really need to make such a fuss? We’re just here to rest for a bit, we can just say hello and go home later, right?”

"It's about manners, understand? Manners!" Tang Ren squeezed out the words through gritted teeth. "Don't forget, that political commissar is an acquaintance of our political commissar. If we lose face, it's our political commissar losing face!"

Regan didn't turn around, but he wanted to say: My pride has become irrelevant since I met you.

Just then, a cloud of dust rose from the distant horizon, and the roar of engines, like muffled thunder, rolled closer and closer.

coming.

Everyone instinctively held their breath.

The first thing that caught the eye was the Chimera and Leman Rus armored convoy. But unlike those cobbled-together, battle-scarred vehicles, this convoy had a brand-new and neat paint job, with the number "266" sprayed on each vehicle in white templates.

However, what truly changed the expressions of everyone present was their marching posture.

The armored convoy advanced with precise spacing, while on their flanks and in the gaps, the infantry, advancing on foot like gray tides, perfectly coordinated with the steel behemoths. As the vehicles moved forward, the infantry followed at the same pace; as the vehicles slowed, the infantry's steps also slowed. There seemed to be an invisible bond between them, coordinating yet not interfering with each other, their movements orderly and efficient, like interlocking gears in a sophisticated war machine.

The column stretched out incredibly long, seemingly endless, yet not a single person fell behind. Not only were there no stragglers, but almost every soldier's stride was identical, their spacing as if measured with a ruler. Aside from the rumble of the tracks and the uniform sound of their footsteps, there was not a single other noise.

This unit doesn't feel like a group of soldiers made of flesh and blood, but rather a silent and massive living entity with a unified will.

Meanwhile, the previously "neat" ranks unconsciously became even more disorganized under the oppressive, invisible aura. Some soldiers even forgot their posture, craning their necks, their eyes filled with disbelief.

“Damn it…” Cai Ji muttered to himself, realizing for the first time how inadequate his vocabulary was.

"No wonder the name is so formal," Tang Ren was the first to realize. He touched his chin and suddenly understood. "So it turns out he's not a commoner."

The convoy stopped in perfect unison a hundred meters from the camp. The rear doors of the transport vehicles opened almost simultaneously, and more soldiers filed out, quickly assembling beside the vehicles to form standard combat formations.

A command vehicle pulled out from the crowd and stopped in front of Regan. The hatch opened, and two figures stepped out. Leading the way was a tall, burly officer. Behind him was the female political commissar, Sally Harris.

Regan stepped forward and removed his gas mask. The opposing colonel also removed his helmet, revealing a weathered face.

Regan extended his hand: "Regan, political commissar of the 143rd Regiment of the Death-Defying Corps."

“Zhang Xiuwen,” the other person shook Regan’s hand firmly, “Commander of the 266th Regiment. This is Political Commissar Sally Harris.”

The two men had a brief but efficient conversation. From the delineation of vehicle parking areas to the arrangement of temporary barracks for soldiers, the supply standards for fuel and ammunition, and the specific timing of intelligence exchanges, everything was finalized in less than five minutes, without a single wasted word.

Colonel Zhang Xiuwen nodded and turned to arrange his troops. Sally Harris merely nodded slightly to Regan before following him. From beginning to end, they never glanced at Tang Ren and the others, as if they were merely insignificant background figures beside Regan, which was indeed the case.

After the conversation, Regan turned around with a typical sour face on his face.

If he hadn't known about these suicide squads before, he would have been fine with it; he was almost used to these lazy but capable guys. Despite their many flaws, they could at least carry out orders and complete missions, so he could tolerate them.

But now… He watched the soldiers of the 266th Regiment in the distance, working like worker bees with incredible efficiency under the silent commands of their officers, the whole process eerily quiet. Then he looked back at the ranks behind him, already whispering and staggering, and the three-man group with nonchalant expressions.

A feeling known as "comparison is the thief of joy" began to grow in Regan's heart.

He couldn't help but let out a cry of grief and indignation in his heart:

Your Majesty, this is unfair! Why are other people's regiments elite, while mine looks like it was just recruited from some bandit den? Did you make a mistake with the transfer order?!

As the welcoming ceremony concluded, Tang Ren waved his hand, disbanding his regiment's crooked "honor guard." The soldiers, as if granted a pardon, scattered in all directions, and the camp instantly returned to its usual hustle and bustle, forming a stark and awkward contrast with the silent and orderly temporary camp not far away.

"Political Commissar Ruigen," Tang Ren leaned closer, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "Should I send someone to deliver some of our local specialties over so our allies can have a taste? It'll also be a good opportunity for you and your female classmate to get to know each other better?"

Regan's eyelids twitched; he remembered "that thing" he had seen before. He took a deep breath, suppressing the sense of powerlessness in his heart: "No need, Commander Tang. They have their own logistical standards. I'll go exchange intelligence with Commissar Harris. You... don't cause trouble."

"Don't worry, Political Commissar!" Tang Ren patted his chest and assured him, "Are we that kind of people?"

Regan remained silent in response, turning to walk towards his makeshift command vehicle. He felt that his career as a commissar in Plantim was a series of farces he had struggled through.

Half an hour later, inside the command vehicle, Regan poured Sally a cup of synthetic coffee, the pungent aroma of which filled the cramped space. The two sat facing each other, with two data panels on the tactical table between them, displaying the theater intelligence they had just exchanged.

The exchange of intelligence had ended, and a moment of silence fell over the atmosphere.

Regan picked up his cup, but his gaze pierced through the glass, looking out at the camp that resembled a precision instrument. He saw the soldiers of the 266th Regiment silently maintaining their weapons and wiping their armor, every movement meticulous, as if they were textbook examples.

He couldn't help but let out a long sigh, a sigh filled with undisguised envy.

“Seri,” he began, his voice slightly hoarse, “look at them, your ‘Scorched Earth Knights.’ They’re like textbook models straight out of a political academy. Every movement is precise, every order is executed flawlessly. I bet their commander doesn’t even need to speak; a single glance is enough.”

He turned back, a wry smile on his face, and pointed towards his own camp outside: "Look at my... my 143rd Regiment. I have to give orders to get them into a barely circular formation. Tang Ren, that regimental commander, you saw him just now. He can fall flat on his face on flat ground and then use the excuse that his gas mask is too dark as an excuse. Honestly, I'm jealous of you, Sally. You drew a very lucky lot, a true Astral Army regiment."

Regan expected some boasting or polite consolation from his colleagues, but to his surprise, Sally let out a short and cold laugh after hearing his words.

“Heh…” She shook her head, her icy blue eyes showing no smugness, but rather a helplessness that didn’t match her cold exterior. “Now that you mention it, Regan, I’m starting to envy you.”

Regan was stunned: "Envious of me?"

“Yes,” Sally picked up her coffee cup but didn’t drink it, just stared at the black liquid inside. “At least you can command them. No matter how undisciplined or unreliable they are, your orders will eventually be carried out. They will respond to you, joke with you, and even make you angry. At least… they treat you as a living, breathing person.”

Her voice was low and tinged with self-mockery: "And I, in this group, am just a nobody."

“What do you mean?” Regan frowned.

“What I mean is,” Sally looked up, meeting Regan’s gaze directly, “this perfect machine you see works so well that it doesn’t need any extra parts. Colonel Zhang and his officers are a system unto themselves; they even have their own political commissars. Their understanding transcends language. Their hospitality towards me was impeccable in procedure and courtesy, but that was all. Power? Forget about it. I was completely excluded from their system, unable to command even a single soldier. Even asking the cook about tonight’s meals required a consultative tone.”

Selena paused for a moment, a mocking smile curving her lips.

"Moreover, things will be even worse when they arrive at the front lines. Our next mission is to fight alongside the Astartes... Ha, I suppose my status will be even lower than that of a cook by then, at least a cook can cook. What can a superfluous political commissar do next to the gods of war?"

(End of this chapter)