Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Chapter 122 Condensation Harvest, Gravitational Wave Beacon

The vibrations from the shuttle's landing gear contacting the ground were transmitted into the cabin.

Reagan Lazarus huddled in the far corner of the seat, pulling his oil-stained collar up above his nose.

The air pressure valve on the hatch hissed as it released air, then slowly opened.

The noise and heat from outside rushed in instantly.

But this did not warm Reagan up; instead, his hands and feet were ice cold.

Two soldiers in yellow and black uniforms came up; they were Aiqi's private soldiers.

They held data tablets in their hands, their eyes sweeping across the faces of everyone in the cabin.

Reagan held his breath and quietly reached for the Magnum pistol hidden under his coat at his waist.

He was mentally calculating the distance and firing angle.

If the other party attacks, can he switch to another one before he gets riddled with bullets?

The leading soldier walked up to Reagan.

My gaze fell.

Reagan felt his heart skip a beat; the feeling of being watched by a predator made the hairs on his body stand on end.

He recognized the face; this soldier had once boarded the "Scavenger" to conduct transactions, so he must know him!

Finished!

Reagan's finger was on the trigger.

however.

The soldier merely glanced at him, his eyes devoid of any emotion, even revealing a hint of indifference.

The soldier then looked away and gazed at the next passenger.

"The number of people has been verified and is correct. You may proceed."

The soldier said something into the communicator, then turned and got off the plane.

Reagan was stunned.

His finger was still on the trigger, turning slightly white from the force he had used.

gone?

He just left like that?

The other person clearly recognized him; their eyes definitely showed that they recognized him!

But the other party didn't even bother to ask a single question!

This disregard terrified Reagan more than an on-the-spot arrest.

In this godforsaken place like Zayz, it's not scary to be targeted by others; what's scary is not even having the right to be targeted by your opponents.

What exactly is Ai Xi thinking?

Did she think Reagan was a nobody not worth taking action against, or was she brewing some bigger conspiracy?

The fear of the unknown instantly threw Reagan's mind into chaos.

"Let's go, what are you spacing out for?"

Sisyphus walked past him and patted him on the shoulder.

Reagan shuddered and almost jumped up.

He quickly stood up, rummaged through the bottom of his backpack and pulled out an even thicker, larger hooded robe, wrapping himself up from head to toe, leaving only his bloodshot and terrified eyes showing.

No matter what, let's get in first!

Kolumbek Trade Zone.

Beneath the massive dome of ruins, countless stalls stretched as far as the eye could see.

Everywhere you look, there are merchants hawking all sorts of industrial products, and the air is thick with the smell of machine oil, roasted meat, and unidentified spices mixed together.

Sisyphus walked in front, followed by fifty heavily armed guards.

This team's style is completely out of place with its surroundings.

The people around them were dressed in tattered clothes, while this group wore brand-new black exoskeletons.

The people around them were carrying homemade guns and cannons, and these people were carrying high-explosive crossbows that looked very expensive.

The stark contrast caused the originally noisy crowd to automatically make way.

Sisyphus enjoyed the feeling.

Holding the shopping list Andy had given him, he began his shopping spree.

"Boss, how much for this pile of junk?"

Sisyphus stopped in front of a stall and pointed to a pile of grayish-white fragments.

The stall owner was a mutant with a face full of sores. When he saw his big customer come in, he rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"This is valuable! It's a heat-insulating tile salvaged from a crashed shuttle engine!"

"One piece—only five bullets!"

Sisyphus looked at Reagan behind him.

Although Reagan was wrapped up like a dumpling, his professional instincts were still there.

He leaned closer to take a look, and even stuck his finger into the cut surface.

"High-density zirconium ceramics".

Reagan's voice came from under his hood, muffled.

"Although it's broken, it's very pure. Our facilities can use it, and it can be used to modify engines."

"I'll take it."

Sisyphus waved his hand.

The guards behind him came up, threw a box of bullets to the stall owner, and then packed all the worthless fragments into the box.

The transaction continues.

Sisyphus's entourage was like a shopping machine, rampaging through the trading district.

Sisyphus never asked the price of anything Reagan approved; he would just pay and take the goods.

They bought a variety of things, but mainly all kinds of condensate.

The boss said to bring back more condensate so he can climb the tech ladder.

Andy was able to develop so quickly because he knew what was useful, while these natives did not.

However, there are also things that are unavailable for purchase.

Refined gold.

Sisyphus asked almost every metal merchant and agent of several major warlords.

The replies were remarkably consistent: "Refined gold? Don't be ridiculous. There was still some of that two years ago, but it's long gone now."

"They've all been taken by Odin Fortress to the south; they didn't even spare the slag containing trace amounts of adamantite."

"You want to buy adamantite? Ha, unless you raid Odin's treasury!"

Sisyphus's expression was not good.

This is Andy's number one mission!

"It seems we'll have to find another way."

Sisyphus closed the list and shook his head somewhat helplessly.

Just as the team was preparing to turn around and head to the next area.

Reagan suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He stood in front of an inconspicuous little stall in a corner, his eyes fixed on something on the stall.

The stall owner was an old man who was practically falling apart; half of his body was mechanized, and a very low-quality one at that—a wind-up machine.

He sells a wide variety of things, mostly unwanted data disks and hand-drawn maps.

"What's wrong?" Sisyphus asked as he walked over.

Reagan didn't say anything, but simply squatted down and picked up a data disk covered in black grease.

"I want to see this thing."

Reagan's voice trembled slightly.

The old stall owner raised his murky electronic eyes and emitted a piercing noise: "Brought back from the depths of the western desert, it smells of dead people."

"Two units of potent medicine, no bargaining."

Without saying a word, Sisyphus pulled out two "Andy Biochemical No. 1" bottles and threw them on the table.

Reagan picked up the data disk and pulled his portable reading terminal from his pocket.

Socket connection.

The screen lit up, and lines of green code began to scroll.

This is an exploration log, and the recorder appears to be a deceased explorer.

"On the 42nd or 43rd day, I can't be sure, the starlight here caused the timer to malfunction."

"The sandstorm in the west stopped, stopped without warning. The dust in the air stopped moving, and gravity seemed to double in that instant, pressing me firmly to the scorching sand."

"Then, I saw a miracle."

"The space at the edge of the field of vision was displaced, and the horizon was forcibly broken off by some invisible force."

"A giant black obelisk with a green halo flowing over its surface just appeared out of nowhere."

"It didn't rise from the ground, nor did it fall from the sky; it just appeared abruptly and illogically in a place that was originally empty."

"My Geiger counter is screaming, and the readings show that the surrounding space structure is collapsing and reorganizing, with gravitational wave readings so high they could tear a person's internal organs apart."

"But I felt no pain; I only felt a grand, sacred tremor. I thought, this must be a legacy of the Golden Age! It must be the favor of an unknown deity!"

"Those damn colleagues all said the West was a dead end, they're wrong, they're all blind! Blind!"

"They are ignorant! Only I! Only I, who have persevered to this point, am worthy to see this door to the truth!"

""

"just me!!!"

"On the 44th day, I heard a sound, not a sound heard by my ears, but a buzzing sound that acted directly on my cerebral cortex."

"I've finished my water, and my leg was broken in the tremor, but that doesn't matter."

"The door opened, and a ghostly green light beckoned me. I must enter. I must bring this great legacy back to the world. I am its discoverer! I am its master. This is my fortune, and also my destiny."

"The record is over, I will step into glory."

The data was messy; most of the image files were corrupted, leaving only the last relatively intact signal record.

The above shows several complex, disordered waveforms filled with interference.

To the average person, it would just look like gibberish or noise.

But Reagan was a tech guy, and during his time at Deep Space Industries, Andy forcibly instilled in him a large amount of knowledge about alien technology features.

He stared at the waveforms, his pupils slowly dilating.

The frequency of this waveform is extremely stable, and the energy peaks exhibit a very strange geometric pattern.

This is clearly not a natural phenomenon.

In a database that Andy gave him called the "High-Value Target Identification Manual," this waveform corresponds to something extremely rare.

[Gravitational wave beacon - standby mode].

Moreover, this frequency characteristic does not belong to humans, nor to the Eldar or Orcs.

It belongs to an ancient alien species that has only been legendary in this sector and has never been seen in person.

Reagan's hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

The fact that the gravitational wave beacon is still on standby indicates that the facility is still operational.

Moreover, the output of gravitational waves is very stable, indicating that its energy core is intact.

In other words—

Deep in the western desert, in a place that everyone considers a death zone.

Hidden there is a well-preserved, still-functioning advanced alien stronghold!

Andy once said that every alien facility must have a "analysis station" with delicious food inside.

Reagan was about to stand up and call out to Sisyphus, but he held back.

With so many people around, if I were to shout it out, whether it's Aiqi or Odin's people, they would definitely pounce on me like sharks smelling blood.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the wild beating of his heart.

The finger moved quickly across the terminal, launching the decoding program.

The waveform flickered a few times and then began to transform into readable text information.

Soon, the progress bar reached the end.

The screen turned green.

A line of generic text, carrying a certain warning connotation, popped up:

[Warning: Gravitational wave beacon detected.]

[Belongs to: Space Necromancer]

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