Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Chapter 123 Do you want to scare your boss to death?!

On the saline-alkali land north of Horisonburg, a huge airflow is stirring up dust.

Captain Harker's cruiser "Bull" had completed all its resupply and trade operations, and its engines were emitting a deep roar as the ship slowly rose into the air.

This guy left in a hurry.

After all, he currently holds a batch of high-end weaponry that he just purchased from Andy, as well as a large stockpile of refurbished...

Used equipment that was originally considered junk but is now in excellent condition.

For itinerant merchants, time is money. They need to catch the tail end of this market trend to sell their goods and exchange them for more resources.

Meanwhile, on the ground in the square, Sisyphus's convoy roared in.

Although the shopping trip was a bit complicated, and even involved a little force along the way, the result was good.

The back beds of dozens of heavy trucks were filled with all kinds of condenser cabinets and shockproof boxes.

"Be careful, handle everything with care!"

Sisyphus stood on the control platform, shouting through a megaphone, "Even if you break your legs, you can't drop the box!"

"This contains all of our production capacity for next quarter!"

The burly men of the Fifth Engineering Division, shirtless and chanting slogans, carried the heavy boxes toward the entrance to the underground core constant-temperature zone.

A bustling scene.

Reagan didn't join in the fun.

He clutched the data disk stained with black oil tightly in his hand, and like a thief, slipped out from the side of the convoy.

I jogged all the way to the black tower located in the center of the base.

Research tower.

This tower is now nominally the administrative center and top research institution of the deep space industry.

But in reality, it's frighteningly deserted here.

After Andy took over the place, he did not carry out a complete renovation of the entire tower. He simply connected the water and electricity system, repaired the elevator, and then did some minor renovations on the third floor where he lived.

Reagan walked into the hall.

Underfoot was a thick, soft gray carpet, and overhead were bright, soft LED light strips.

It was really comfortable, but there was really no one around.

The huge lobby was completely empty; there wasn't even a receptionist.

This is actually quite outrageous.

It's important to understand that any normal warlord, leader of a power, or even the head of a small gang with only a few hundred men, would have a dozen or so burly men standing guard outside their hideout.

Every three steps there's a sentry, every five steps a guard; they practically have "I'm awesome" written all over their faces.

But Andy didn't.

Inside the entire research tower, there were no bodyguards, not even a decent automatic defense turret. There were only a few surveillance cameras scattered around the corners, and one of them didn't even seem to be powered on.

As the soul of the M2 era, Andy may have been fond of a comfortable office environment, but when it came to this kind of defensive setup, he was completely too lazy to bother with it.

Moreover, Andy himself is an iron man with exceptional individual combat capabilities. If an assassin were to sneak in, he would be in deep trouble.

Moreover, the core members of Deep Space Industries, whether it's Roger, Bauer, or Sisyphus, are all in the same boat as Andy, and none of them would come here to carry out an assassination for no reason.

Therefore, this place is less like headquarters and more like Andy's private penthouse.

Reagan entered the elevator without any hindrance and pressed the button for the third floor.

"bite.

The elevator doors opened.

The corridor was quiet, with only light shining through a crack in a door at the end.

Andy's private studio.

Reagan took a deep breath, calmed his wildly beating heart, strode over, and gently knocked on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

"Enter."

Andy's voice came from inside, sounding somewhat nonchalant.

Reagan pushed open the door and went in.

The workshop was a mess, with parts and blueprints piled up everywhere.

Andy was sitting at a large workbench, holding a pair of laser tweezers, micromanipulating a circuit board no bigger than a fingernail.

The six black floating units behind him were slowly rotating around him, seemingly assisting in the calculations.

"Boss."

Reagan shouted.

Andy didn't even look up; the tweezers in his hand were as steady as if they were welded to the air.

"You're back? Did you buy the things?"

"We've got it. Sisyphus is being put into storage."

"That's good."

Andy kept his eyes on the work in his hands.

"Um—boss, what are you busy with?"

Reagan curiously leaned over for a look.

There was a jumble of coils and crystals on the table, which looked like some kind of communication device being assembled.

"A modem," Andy replied casually. "Commonly known as an optical modem."

"I'd like to explore that space shaft again, but the radio signal is too heavily blocked at that depth underground, and the latency is too high to use."

"So I plan to run a fiber optic cable down there."

"But the photoelectric conversion protocols these days are too messy, and the Imperial standard interface is not compatible at all. I'm thinking of making my own transcoder to play around with."

This is indeed a technical skill.

These days, communication relies mainly on riddle tellers and radio.

To achieve delay-free high-definition video transmission and remote control thousands of meters underground, fiber optics are truly essential.

Fiber optics, the eternal god.

Reagan nodded as if he understood, but he had no time to care about the optical modem.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the data disk.

"Boss, I have something to show you."

Reagan placed the data disk on the corner of the table and carefully pushed it over.

"We found this at a street stall in Kolumbek."

"The stall owner said it was an explorer's relic, brought back from the western desert."

Andy didn't stop what he was doing, but he glanced at the dirty plate out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, just put it there."

Andy's tone was casual.

"I'll have Xiao Liu scan it later, do some virus removal, and also check if there are any valuable coordinates or diaries inside."

"It's probably just some useless nonsense, or the ramblings of some madman."

Andy's reaction is perfectly normal.

He'd scavenged so much trash in the wasteland that nine out of ten of these so-called "explorer relics" were fake.

Even if the last one is true, it's useless junk information.

He's currently busy welding critical nodes and really doesn't have time to deal with such trivial matters.

"No, boss."

Reagan didn't leave; instead, he took a step forward, his tone becoming somewhat urgent.

"You really need to see this now, this stuff—it's pretty explosive."

"I've looked at it, and the decoded content is very strange."

Andy stopped using the tweezers.

He slowly straightened up, pushed up the magnifying glass on his head, and turned to look at Reagan.

If someone else had said that, Andy might have given a perfunctory reply.

But he knew Reagan well. Although he was a native, he had a good technical foundation and a calm personality. He wouldn't make a fuss over trivial matters.

More importantly————

Andy suddenly remembered what happened with Jaden last time.

Because of his lack of knowledge, the illiterate Jaden casually described a priceless space silo as an ordinary vertical shaft, causing Andy to almost miss out on such a huge fortune.

This incident left Andy with a deep psychological scar.

Now Reagan is showing it to him so solemnly, and even using the word "explosive".

Andy's heart skipped a beat.

Could it be another space well? Or perhaps an undiscovered fragment of STc?

If that's the case, then it's definitely worth stopping what you're doing.

"Alright."

Andy sighed and put down the tweezers and the chip in his hand.

"Since you've put it that way, I'll take a look."

"If it contains some kind of post-apocalyptic porn novel, I'll hang you on top of the tower to dry."

Andy picked up the data disk and plugged it into the universal port on the workbench.

"Xiao Liu, read the data and project it directly."

"clear."

The holographic projection device hummed, and a green light screen unfolded on the worktable.

The first thing that pops up is that messy explorer's diary.

Andy quickly scanned the text.

"Western Desert — Empty, Displaced — Black Obelisk — Green Halo —"

As Andy watched, his brows furrowed.

This description looks vaguely familiar...

This art style, this color scheme, and this mystical atmosphere—

Immediately afterwards, the diary ended, and the waveform diagram that Reagan had deciphered appeared.

Andy's electronic eye instantly locked onto the waveform, and the STC database began to automatically compare it in the background.

It only took 0.01 seconds.

Comparison complete.

A line of bold, bright green text was directly obscured in the center of Andy's vision.

[Warning: Gravitational wave beacon detected.]

[Signal attribution: Space Necromancer.]

Status: Standby.

"6

""

The studio fell into a deathly silence.

Andy sat in the chair, completely motionless, as if frozen in place.

His processor seemed to stop working for a moment.

Damn it, another old acquaintance has appeared!

Last time it was sneaky, this time it's spare ribs!!

In this dark 41st millennium, there are many terrible things.

Green-skinned orcs are terrifying because their numbers are endless.

The Tyranids are terrifying because they can devour everything.

Chaos demons are terrifying because they can corrupt the soul.

But the spare ribs—

These old fogies are terrifying in another dimension.

They were the former rulers of the Milky Way, survivors of the War of Heaven, and ruthless characters who shattered the Star God into pieces and locked him in the battery.

The technology used to make spare ribs is so advanced that it truly defies the laws of physics!

Causal weapons, time reversal, singularity generators—these are all routine operations in their hands.

If it were a resurrected Necromancer Dynasty, it would be an existence that even the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet would avoid.

And now, right here in Zais, in the western desert.

Right in front of Andy's house.

There's actually such a huge Buddha statue squatting there?!

"What exactly did you guys find?"

Andy jumped up from his chair, and a distorted electronic voice came from the speaker: "Are you trying to scare your boss to death?!"

Reagan: 66...

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