Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The city wall? The cannons on the city wall face outwards, so there is no fire coverage inwards from the city.

Mighty positions? All the mighty positions face outwards from the city, with their backs to Lawson's attack direction.

Defensive depth? Lawson's starting position is right in the Nurgle Legion's command center, so the depth is negative.

The entire defense system of Harvest City became a joke at this moment.

The command chain of the Nurgle Legion broke after Vitrak's death.

However, the individual combat effectiveness of the Plague Space Marines remains strong; they can fight without command.

Two thousand Plague Space Marines scattered throughout the city formed small resistance groups, holding off street corners and building ruins, using bombs and poison gas to halt the advance of the Death Squad.

But Lawson was above them.

He flew to a point 400 meters above the eastern part of the city and released all 108 shadow wheels.

Psychic perception extends 24 kilometers.

Every Plague Space Marine was within his sight.

The Shadow Wheels, arranged in groups of twelve, were divided into nine attack squadrons and simultaneously attacked nine Plague Space Marine outposts in different directions.

The first group of twelve shadow wheels swooped down from above a main street in the east of the city.

On the street, a fire support team of eight plague warriors crouched behind a roadblock, using heavy explosives to block the advance of the suicide squad.

Shadow Wheel slipped through the gaps in the buildings on both sides, circled around to the back and flanks of the fire support group, and then launched an attack simultaneously.

The twelve shadow wheels cut in a crisscross pattern from three directions.

The plague warriors' attention was entirely focused on the column of assassins directly in front of them, leaving them completely unprepared behind and to the sides.

The molecular-level cutting edge simultaneously cuts into the back of the power armor through the neck seam, the armpit seam, and the knee joint.

All eight plague warriors fell.

The area behind the roadblocks has been cleared.

The fourth column of assassins immediately sped through the intersection and continued their advance toward the city center.

The same scene was happening simultaneously in nine directions across the city.

The Shadow Wheels were like nine scalpels, precisely cutting away every firepower node of the Nurgle Legion.

Meanwhile, the suicide squad steadily advanced along the route cleared by Shadow Wheel, using quadruple rapid-fire cannons to plow through the ground when encountering the Walker Tide, and focusing and destroying the Demon Engine with White Tiger Armor concentrated plasma cannons when encountering it.

From the outside, the sky above Harvest City was filled with silver glitter.

Like an invisible swarm of steel bees, they dart, swoop, and cut through the jungle of buildings, leaving behind a pile of dismembered power armor wreckage on the ground after each flash.

Lawson slowly shifted his position in the air.

Wherever he arrives at a new location, he uses himself as an anchor point to open a stasis field portal and pulls out a reinforcement force.

From the north of the city, five thousand elite soldiers poured out of the gate of light and appeared directly behind the city wall defenders.

Eight thousand plague walkers lined up facing out of the city when suddenly a volley of heavy explosives rang out behind them.

The instant they turned their heads, five thousand bomb guns opened fire simultaneously, and the crossfire turned the densely packed walkers on the city wall walkway into a bloody pulp.

In the south of the city, two demon engines are attempting to advance towards the altar.

Lawson flew directly above them and unleashed twenty Shadow Wheels to focus fire on the joint hydraulic lines of the first engine.

After losing its support, the engine crashed to the ground. Before the second engine could even turn its cannon around, the White Tiger Armor's plasma cannon had already pierced through its power core from the side.

The straight-line distance from the center of the altar to the outskirts of the city is no more than six kilometers.

The suicide squad advanced outwards simultaneously from four directions at a speed of 300 meters per minute.

Swarm intelligence orchestrates all resources in real time from the background.

In an alley in the eastern part of the city, a Plague Space Marine leans against a wall, firing the last half-barrel of explosive ammunition at the charging Death Soldier.

His power armor had been cut in four places by the Shadow Wheel, and his left arm was missing below the elbow, with putrid blood dripping from the cut.

Three assassins, carrying terracotta storm shields, steadily approached.

The Plague Warrior used up his last bullet.

He threw down his gun, drew his corrupted chain sword, and charged forward with a roar.

The assassin in the middle smashed his shield into his chest.

The Plague Warrior was knocked back two steps, his back slamming against the wall. The assassin on his left pierced his right knee with a sword, while the assassin on his right pierced his abdominal armor with a sword.

The plague warrior was pinned to the wall, the chain sword still struggling to swing.

The fourth assassin walked up from the side and fired a plasma shot at close range at the helmet.

The helmet, along with the head inside, was vaporized by the high temperature.

The corpse slid down, and the assassins stepped over it to continue their advance.

This is the siege efficiency of 20,000 combat warriors combined with 108 shadow wheels.

As Lawson surveyed the encirclement from the air, a slight smile played on his lips.

This is his favorite tactic when fighting in urban warfare: instead of attacking from the outside, take out the core first, and then crush it outwards from the center.

All of the defenders' fortifications were rendered ineffective, the command chain broke, information transmission was interrupted, and each stronghold became an isolated force.

The Nurgle Legion of Harvest City was crushed simultaneously from four directions.

Within two hours, the 120,000 troops inside the city were compressed into an area of ​​less than one square kilometer in the southwest corner of the city.

About 30,000 Plague Walkers and less than 200 Plague Space Marines huddled together, back to back against the city walls, facing the columns of undead surging in from all directions.

Their long-range firepower has been reduced to zero by Lawson's Shadow Wheel sweep.

All the demon engines were destroyed. The Plague Wizard was precisely picked out from the crowd and beheaded by Shadow Wheel.

The assassins put away their guns.

Three hundred and one White Tiger Shield Walls pressed down from four directions simultaneously.

Behind them, 20,000 combat warriors drew their power swords and chainsaws, and steadily advanced with the shield wall.

The quadruple rapid-fire cannons continued to fire from the rear, shearing down the rear ranks of the pilgrims one by one to prevent them from collapsing backward.

The shield wall rolled over the horde of travelers.

The sound of metal crushing bones echoed throughout the one-square-kilometer strangulation field.

The encirclement is getting smaller and smaller.

The Nurgle Legion aboard Klein-IV is facing their greatest nightmare since invading the planet.

P.S.: 2.3 words updated, please vote!

Chapter 142 Stealing Half a Day of Leisure

Fengshou City, eastern half.

Three million two hundred thousand civilians of the empire have been imprisoned in this residential area welded shut with steel plates for forty-seven days.

In the first few days, people still held onto hope.

The governor will send troops, the PDF defense forces will counterattack, the empire will not abandon its people.

They comforted each other like this as they counted the days in the darkness.

On the seventh day, someone climbed up the ventilation duct and saw the outside.

He rolled down crying.

On the twelfth day, the Plague Legion began to feed them regularly.

Once a day, a grayish-green paste-like substance is poured down from the top of the city wall, emitting a nauseating sour stench.

Just enough to survive.

Each person's daily ration is precisely controlled to the minimum required to sustain life.

The masters of the Plague Legion treat this as a science, keeping the sacrifice alive, in despair, and in fear. The longer these three emotions ferment within the soul, the more intense the energy released during the sacrifice.

On the twentieth day, someone attempted to dig an underground tunnel to escape.

Seventeen young men spent three whole days digging with iron sheets and stones, creating a twelve-meter-long tunnel.

They were discovered on the twenty-third day.

The Plague Walker hung seventeen corpses on the city wall. The bodies were still moving, their mouths opening and closing, their eyes rolling, but they were no longer human. Grayish-green mycelium spread from the wounds, turning the dead into living specimens.

Since then, no one has tried to escape.

On the thirty-fifth day, people stopped praying.

Faith is a weak thing among the lower-class laborers in the agricultural world.

They spent their lives farming, harvesting, and paying taxes; to them, the emperor was merely a blurry silhouette on the packaging of their rations.

They stopped praying because they were tired.

Hope is the heaviest thing in the universe.

They carried it for thirty-five days, and everyone's shoulders were sore from carrying it.

Some people started to go crazy.

A woman who used to be a school teacher spent nights reading to the wall, reciting sentences from the Imperial Children's Primer: "The Emperor is our father, the Empire is our home, and the Space Marines are our shield."

When she read the thirty-eighth day, she suddenly fell silent.

The next morning, people found her dead in a corner, having carved an imperial eagle on her chest with her fingernails and bled to death.

No one cried for her.

On the fortieth day, someone began drawing the Imperial Eagle on the wall with charcoal.

It's drawn very poorly; the proportions are off, and the wings are uneven, one big and one small.

But more and more people joined in. They painted eagles, skulls, and the double-headed eagle constellation on every wall.

In his cramped cubicle, a twelve-year-old boy used his fingernails to carve a line of crooked Gothic letters on the metal wall: