Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 120 Disguise

D-4 takeoff and landing platform.

Forty-eight hours of continuous acid rain did not clean the massive steel platform; instead, pools of oily, dirty water accumulated in the pitted metal crevices.

The "Terra Negative" was like a silent steel mountain, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts.

Its engine had already warmed up, and its deep roar made the surrounding air vibrate slightly.

However, it never took off and remained in a low-power standby state.

Because of an agreement.

A supplemental asset preservation agreement, drafted by Rowe Dane and signed by Governor Alicia, ultimately forced Home Office tax officer Marquez to implement it.

At this moment, the semi-mechanized tax official impatiently approached the edge of the loading and unloading area.

His brass-cast head kept turning.

The electronic prosthetic eye coldly watched the line of workers waiting to receive alveolar enhancement injections.

20,000 laborers.

20,000 injections.

Even for the Terra Negative, which has thousands of servants, this was an extremely tedious extra task.

Marquez's mechanical claws made two grasping motions in the air, as if trying to crush something.

His core logic was on the verge of overload, with a massive stream of red data about "delays," "fuel consumption," and "time costs" flooding his field of vision.

This kind of waiting is more painful than taking him apart.

To alleviate this anxiety at the logical level, Márquez began to explore the platform.

He walked slowly, each step accompanied by the heavy sigh of the hydraulic rod.

Suddenly, he stopped.

His prosthetic eye was focused on a puddle on the ground.

There were a dozen or so plump wheat grains scattered there, which had leaked out from a damaged container during the loading and unloading process.

Marquez bent down.

As a high-ranking tax official, he made a move that baffled the arbitrators around him.

He extended his sophisticated mechanical claws, like a stingy scavenger, and picked up the dozen or so grains of wheat one by one.

"waste."

Synthetic electronic sounds were squeezed out of his microphone.

"This is the Emperor's asset, this is sacred fuel."

He straightened up, nervously wiped the dozen or so grains of wheat clean on his expensive silk robe, and solemnly placed them into the recycling pouch at his waist.

Then he turned to the group of arbitrators and ordered, "All of you, listen to my command! Kneel down and search!"

"Use your biosensors, use your tongues to lick, and retrieve every single microgram of food from this area!"

"Not even a single speck of dust should be left on this damned planet!"

Meanwhile.

In the shadows in the distance, Butcher Bill, who was secretly observing, shrank back.

He withdrew his spying light, turned to look at Rowe beside him, and said gloatingly, "That Tin Man is going crazy. He looks like he's more heartbroken than if his own mother had died. Rowe, you pulled off a brilliant move."

Luo Wei stood expressionless in the leeward side of the container, his hands in the pockets of his long black trench coat.

"This isn't about torturing him; it's about compliance. Bill, remember this: in the Empire, only correct procedures guarantee our survival."

Bill grinned and chuckled, "Come on, don't give me that fancy stuff. I know you're doing it on purpose."

"This 48-hour delay is driving him crazy. Seeing him get frustrated makes me happier than if I'd drunk some aged Amasek."

At this point, Billton paused, his smile fading, and said somewhat seriously, "Love, you need to be careful. Now that you've offended him, if he notices anything wrong with Gray Mule-1, we'll be in trouble. You know, Gray Mule-1 isn't exactly a conventional crop—"

Bill didn't explain himself clearly.

He made a cryptic gesture, referring to the grotesque wheat.

Luo Wei shook his head. "There won't be any problems."

His tone was very confident.

"We conducted three deep biochemical detoxification processes on this batch of grain at your factory."

"All test data are within the safety thresholds for 'biofuels' set by the Ministry of the Interior."

Luo Wei continued, "More importantly, he has already signed it. In his logic, once he signs, the nature of this shipment is already locked in."

"Right now, he just wants to leave this planet as soon as possible, which is constantly increasing his time costs, and he will never take the initiative to bring up old grievances."

"Doing that would only prove that he was negligent in his previous acceptance work."

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"For bureaucrats, admitting mistakes is much more difficult than covering them up."

Bill nodded thoughtfully and gave Rowe a thumbs up again.

"Okay, you're a professional. Since you say it's no problem, then it's definitely no problem."

Loewe glanced at his pocket watch.

There are still three hours until the final takeoff.

"Keep an eye on things here, don't let anything go wrong." Luo Wei tightened his collar, turned and walked towards the elevator below the platform. "I'm going to the workshop, Alpha should be finished by now."

"Go ahead, go ahead," Bill waved his hand. "If that Tin Man dares to go crazy, I'll let you know immediately."

Leaving the bustling D-4 platform, Luo Wei took the elevator down to the third basement level.

Then, I walked several hundred meters.

This was the secret workshop provided by Butcher Bill, which became Rowe's temporary preparation center during the collection of tithes.

Rowe passed through several heavy gates and arrived at the deepest part of the workshop.

A Chimera troop carrier sits quietly under the spotlight.

Luo Wei stopped in his tracks, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

If it weren't for the familiar chassis number 1, he would hardly recognize that this was the once ferocious and terrifying "Wall of Gluttony".

-

The biological cuticle layer that originally covered the surface of the vehicle, wriggling like a living creature, has disappeared.

Those nauseating fleshy tentacles, the tirelessly rotating compound eyes, and the glands that constantly secreted acid all vanished without a trace.

It has been restored to the normal standard ceramic steel armor color, which is dull, flat, and old.

It looks like an old-fashioned chimera that's just been retired from the Astral Army and is readily available on the secondhand market.

Ordinary, mediocre, and unremarkable.

This is just an ordinary troop carrier.

The hunched-over technical priest lay beside the turret, holding a precision servo probe, adjusting the turret's rotating bearings.

Hearing footsteps, the priest turned around.

"Praise be to Om Messiah. Advisor Lowe, you've arrived."

The priest climbed down the ladder, his movements much lighter than before.

Luo Wei stepped forward and reached out to touch the cold armor of the vehicle.

It felt hard and rough to the touch, with absolutely no sign of any biological activity beneath, prompting me to ask, "How did you do that?"

"This is thanks to the supplies provided by the Pharmacist Galan."

Father Alpha pulled an empty metal tube from under his red robe.

That's an Astartes, a specialized biogel container.

"This gel has super bio-inhibition and shaping capabilities."

"I mixed it with holy oil and applied it to the surface of the Gluttony Wall, forcibly inducing its biological tissues into a dormant, contracted state, and disguising it as a metallic texture."

The priest tapped on a panel on the side of the vehicle.

"This is not just visual deception. Now it can even fool thermal signals and bio-radar."

"Judging from its appearance and test data, it is just an ordinary vehicle with a slightly dull mechanical spirit."

Lo Wei nodded in satisfaction.

This is exactly what he needs.

A vehicle covered in a biological shell, occasionally revealing its eyes and fangs, is a sitting duck wherever it goes.

An ordinary Chimera would be the best cover.

"How long can this state last?" Rowe asked.

"Theoretically, it can be maintained indefinitely as long as the inhibitor is replenished regularly," the priest replied. "At the same time, this does not weaken its combat effectiveness."

"Whenever you need it, just enter a specific wake-up code, and it can tear through this disguise in three seconds and restore—well, the instinct to eat."

"very good."

Luo Wei breathed a sigh of relief.

This is good news.

However, Lowe noticed this keenly.

Father Alpha's mood did not rise with the completion of this masterpiece.

Instead, the priest's several servo robotic arms were unconsciously rubbing against his oil-stained red robe.

Loewe knows the priest very well.

This is a subconscious action he takes when he is anxious.

"Any other questions, Alpha?" Rowe's smile faded. "If it's about appeasing the tank's soul, we can discuss that further."

"It's not a tank." Father Alpha walked to the workbench next to him, picked up a data board, and said, "It's about 'Grey Snail-1'."

""

"What happened to the food?" Rowe walked over quickly. "Marquez has inspected it; the toxins are within the safe range. We've confirmed that."

"Yes, that's true from previous tests."

The priest handed the data panel to Lowe, which displayed a set of complex biochemical graphs.

"To test the energy conversion rate of the Gluttony Wall under full load."

"Last night, I took it upon myself to feed it ten kilograms of sliced ​​roots from 'Wheat King'."

Luo Wei knew about "Wheat King".

In the A-3 experimental field, Gray Mule No. 1 showed the most severe mutations and contained the most Tyren biomass among the parent crops.

He had previously fed the "Gluttony Wall".

"The tank's bioreactor simulates a highly acidic digestive environment."

"This is highly similar to the stomach environment of humans and Astartes."

"Everything was normal for the first six hours."

"The toxic reaction is very weak, equivalent to only consuming expired corpse starch."

"However----"

The priest's voice trembled.

He pointed to a red curve on the screen.

The curve is initially flat, then suddenly spikes exponentially.

"That's impossible."

Lo Wei shook his head.

He drew upon his biological knowledge to conduct the analysis.

"If it's heavy metals and common alkaloids, the toxicity should be released continuously."

"This kind of delayed outbreak is not in line with the physiological characteristics of plants."

Father Alpha uttered a statement that sent the workshop temperature plummeting: "Unless, this is a disguise."