Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 123 Hunting

Luo Wei walked back to the holographic projection table.

The war zone statistics table representing the "probability of death" was erased, leaving only the molecular structure diagram of "Grey Mule-1".

"Alpha, you just mentioned that this toxin is a disguise," that it was induced based on the Star Child patriarch's psionic network, is that right?"

"Yes, Advisor." Father Alpha scratched his metal chin, trying to find a more colloquial way of putting it, "It's like—a magnet attracting iron filings."

"These toxin molecules are scattered and harmless in their natural state."

"It was the patriarch's psionic network, like a powerful magnet, that forcibly attracted them together, arranging them into the shape of a deadly poison."

"So, what if we remove the magnet?"

Loewe raised a core question.

The priest paused for a moment, then activated the core of his logic to perform calculations.

"If the psionic network is lost, these unnaturally generated complex toxin molecules will become unstable."

"According to the second law of thermodynamics, they will disintegrate."

"Disintegrate into what?" Luo Wei pressed.

"It breaks down into basic amino acids, carbohydrates, and some bitter-tasting alkaloids. That is, the slightly less palatable 'Ten Thousand Dollars Four T'."

11

Ordinary protein.

Upon hearing this, Luo Wei snapped his fingers.

The light in his eyes grew even more intense.

"This is our way out, Alpha."

"We have been ignoring a very basic physical fact: distance."

Luo Wei looked up at the sky.

"The patriarch hiding in the gutter, his psychic power might cover the entire Plenty II and even extend into near-Earth orbit."

o

"But can it penetrate subspace storms?"

"Can it continue to remotely control these wheat plants across a physical distance of 15,000 light-years?"

The priest immediately shook his head: "Impossible. Unless it is the original entity of the warp, no being can maintain such a distant and precise psionic connection. Once the ship enters the warp jump, the signal will be completely lost."

Following the priest's words, Lowe sneered, "So, if we follow the normal procedure, when the spaceship takes off and enters subspace, the signal will be interrupted and the toxins will disintegrate."

"Once this batch of food arrives in Armageddon, it will no longer be poison, but a safe, high-energy ration, at most carrying some strange taste from Tyran biomass, which will affect the flavor."

"Advisor, in that case, wouldn't we not have to do anything at all?" the priest exclaimed in delight.

"It's not that simple."

Luo Wei shook his head, his expression becoming even more gloomy.

"The patriarch of the Star Children, since he was able to set up this scheme, would not make such a basic mistake."

"Since it's sending these 'Trojan horses' to the front lines, it will certainly ensure that the soldiers inside are alive."

"It must solve the problem of signal relay."

"If you were it, what would you do?"

Father Alpha took only three seconds to say in a trembling voice, "I will send someone aboard."

"That's right," Rowe replied.

"It must have planted beacons among the 20,000 conscripted laborers," they were the elite of the fourth-generation hybrids, and also specific psionicists.

"Just like the lieutenant named Valken who served alongside Butcher Bill."

"The quantity doesn't need to be too large, maybe just a few, perhaps a dozen or so."

"As long as they live, they can act as signal relay stations for the chieftain during the long warp voyage, maintaining the activity of the toxin until the food arrives on the battlefield."

Even if the vast distance or subspace storms cause the patriarch's main body to lose contact with the spaceship, these beacons can still serve as independent nodes to ensure that the toxicity of "Grey Mule-1" remains intact.

At this point, Rowe glanced at the brass pocket watch.

"Three hours remain until the 'Terra Nexus' takes off."

"This is our final audit window."

"We don't need to purify the food, nor do we need to forge documents. We only need to do one thing: find the 'signal tower' hidden among the 20,000 people, and then dismantle it."

"Once these relay nodes are severed, and the psionic sustaining them is gone, the toxin structure within 'Grey Mule-1' will be deactivated."

It collapsed naturally during transport.

"At that time, what Márquez will take with him will be a batch of truly compliant assets."

"There was no poisoning, no casualties, no loss of tithes, and no extermination order from the court."

This served the interests of the empire while also saving Rowe's life.

More importantly, he upheld his bottom line as a "human being".

However, Father Alpha's robotic arm began to tremble: "But advisor, a full twenty thousand people have already completed quarantine and are preparing to board the ship. How are we supposed to find a few perfectly disguised mixed-race individuals from twenty thousand people within three hours?"

"Conventional methods certainly won't work. The Empire's quarantine sergeants can only detect viruses and obvious mutations; they can't detect latent gene stealers."

Rowe turned around, his gaze falling on the Chimera troop carrier.

"We can't find it, but it can."

"It has eaten fourth-generation elite hybrids, and its sensitivity to their taste is greater than that of any oracle."

Lo Wei straightened his collar and put the brass pocket watch back in his pocket.

The anxiety and fear that originally belonged to ordinary people were completely suppressed at this moment, and his expression became cold and stern again.

"Let's go, Alpha. Take your servo skull and awaken the 'Wall of Gluttony'."

"We're going to the ground. To see off that tax official."

The rain is getting heavier.

The labor assembly area was completely surrounded by barbed wire and towering guard towers.

Twenty thousand laborers from various agricultural war zones in the Fertile No. 2 region stood on the muddy open ground, wearing uniform gray coarse cloth uniforms.

Among them were laborers and refugees, as well as gang members and death row inmates with fierce eyes.

However, at this moment, they all share a common identity:

Tithes.

The crowd was lifeless.

Fear, confusion, and despair spread through the formation.

They didn't know where they were going.

I don't know if I'll be able to come back alive.

In the minds of the most impoverished people, being conscripted meant death and abandonment.

"Buzz".

Suddenly, the deep roar of an engine broke the silence of the rain.

A Chimera troop carrier with faded paint emerged from the shadow of the D-4 platform.

Instead of slowing down, it spewed out a plume of black smoke and rushed straight toward the entrance to the assembly area.

Several arbitrators on guard immediately raised their riot shields in an attempt to stop the vehicle, which was not on the pass list.

"parking!"

A stern warning came from the loudspeaker, accompanied by the crisp sound of a bomb gun being chambered.

"Boarding procedures are locked. Unauthorized personnel are strictly prohibited from entering! Violators will be killed without exception!"

The atmosphere was tense inside the Chimera's cockpit.

Sitting in the passenger seat, "Butcher" Bill, his one eye peering through the bulletproof glass at the row of dark gun barrels ahead, roared, "Love, are you crazy? I told you five minutes ago that that tin-headed tax officer refused!"

"I begged him twice on the communication channel to give you ten minutes to say a few words, and he just told me to get lost!"

Bill gripped the handrail tightly, his expression anxious: "Marquez just wants to take off as quickly as possible; he values ​​time more than his life. If we force our way in like this, the arbitrators will really open fire!"

Rowe, sitting in the back with his arms crossed, replied, "Bill, it's precisely because he values ​​time more than life that he won't fire."

Lowe raised his head and looked through the observation window at the figure of the tax official under the awning in the distance, which was flashing red light.

"Gabriel García Márquez was an absolutely rational and logical being."

"If we open fire now, it will cause bloodshed. Bloodshed will cause panic among 20,000 people, and panic will escalate into a riot."

"Once an uprising occurs, the entire process of suppression, purges, and regrouping takes at least twelve hours."

Lowe patted the back of the pilot's seat and said, "He wants to take off on time even more than we do. Any conflict will lead to unacceptable delays."

"On my command, floor the gas pedal."

"Run it over!"

The driver gritted his teeth and slammed on the gas pedal.

The disguised "Gluttony Wall" roared like a beast as its engines crushed the rubble on the ground.

With unstoppable momentum, it crashed fiercely into the roadblock.

"boom!"

The chimera's heavy armor smashed through the makeshift roadblock.

Wood chips and metal scraps flew everywhere.

Just as Lowe had predicted, the arbitrators chose to back down at the last minute.

Because at the last minute, they received an urgent order from Márquez:

Remain vigilant, but do not fire.

As long as it doesn't cause a mass riot, this tax official is willing to endure the "noise" for a few minutes.

And so, Chimera 1 barged into the assembly area, its tracks kicking up large amounts of mud.

It didn't stop, but began to move quickly around the formation of 20,000 people.

Inside the vehicle, the occasional metallic scraping sound could be heard.

Outsiders assumed it was due to engine aging.

Only those inside the car knew that it was the biological tissues inside the car that were agitating.

Beneath the heavy armor, Father Alpha was hunched over a dial covered in nerve bundles, sweating profusely as he operated it.

The priest's three mechanical arms pressed down on several red valves, forcibly injecting a high concentration of sedatives into the vehicle's biological core.

The car smelled food.

This is the taste of gene stealers.

This is the deliciousness it craves most.

In its perception, there were several alluring points of light scattered among the 20,000-person formation.

It wanted to pounce, tear apart the disguises, and devour the flesh and blood.

"Hold on—hold on, you gluttonous beast—"

Father Alpha cursed under his breath as he observed the oracle screen in front of him, which was neurally connected to the "Wall of Gluttony".

On the screen, countless green dots represent ordinary laborers.

Whenever the tank passes through a specific area, a glaring red dot flashes on the screen.

That's a "beacon".

That was a fourth-generation psychic hybrid that the "Children of the Stars" cult planted specifically to maintain the activity of Gray Mule No. 1's toxins.

Section C-4, Row 7, Number 9527.

Section F-2, Row 12, Number 3341.

The priest typed rapidly on the keyboard, recording the worker number and location corresponding to each red dot.

This is a silent hunt.