Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 102 Licking the bag (more updates)

Ten minutes later.

The riots were suppressed.

Under the force field suppression of the "Gluttony Wall" and the baptism of flamethrowers, Test Field A-3 has returned to calm.

Valentine, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a crate in the safe zone, holding a cup of hot water in his hands, which were still trembling.

More than half of the honor guard he brought with him was lost.

The command vehicle, once a symbol of family honor, has been reduced to a pile of scrap metal.

Luo Wei walked up to him and handed him a new document.

"Sir, this is the accident report from just now."

Lowe's tone was full of respect.

However, to Valentine, it sounded incredibly ironic.

"Due to force majeure on site, and a slight deviation in the command rhythm, the equipment was damaged."

"Fortunately, thanks to your 'heroic persistence,' we managed to save most of the harvesters."

Valentine looked up, his eyes filled with fear.

All he wanted now was to leave this hellish place, to get as far away from these man-eating wheat fields as possible.

"Command authority—command authority is returned to you."

Valentine said, trembling.

"This place is too eerie. I want to go back to the spire. I want to report to the Executive Yuan that the situation here is too complicated and unsuitable."

Not suitable for regular supervision.

"You are a wise person."

Lowe retrieved the documents, without revealing a victor's smile.

"I will report to the Governor's Office that His Excellency Valentine personally went to the front line and was attacked by alien creatures. Although frightened, he insisted on inspecting the area. His spirit is admirable."

This statement not only saved face for the Valentine family but also completely eliminated any possibility of him trying to reap the benefits.

If he dares to reach out again, the real video recordings in Loewe's possession will become a laughing stock in the entire aristocratic circle.

Valentine nodded repeatedly, as if grasping at a straw.

"Yes, yes! That's it! I was attacked—I was protecting Imperial equipment—"

He mumbled incoherently, and with the help of the remaining guards, he awkwardly crawled into the spare airship.

Then, they fled the eastern granary as if their lives depended on it.

The convoy's taillights disappeared into the acid mist.

Lowe once again took command.

The wind rustled through the wheat field.

It was as if they were mocking the farce that had just happened.

"Boss, are we just going to let him go like that?" Buck asked, somewhat unwillingly.

"He took away a false glory, but left us with real power."

Luo Wei looked down at the steel behemoths that had resumed operation.

This time, all the harvesters followed his rhythm precisely, cutting the earth with the precision of a scalpel.

There was no more interference.

There was no more outsiders pointing fingers.

"Remember, Buck."

Lo Wei's voice sounded exceptionally clear in the wind.

"In this world, there are some positions that not just anyone can occupy."

"If you want to wear the crown, you must bear its weight; if you want to wield the sickle, you must be stained with blood."

He glanced at his pocket watch again and solemnly said, "Continue the harvest."

"We have 48 hours to accomplish this miracle."

The wind at four in the morning carried a chill.

As young master Valentine's convoy fled in haste during the day, the commotion at Experimental Field A-3 did not end there.

The harvesting process, ironically, enters a more intense and precise surgical phase.

Rowe drove the "Gluttony Wall" Chimera 1 chariot, constantly moving between the ridges of the fields.

It has been going on since daytime.

The pitch-black chariots, like an invisible dam, held back the "Ash" that had gone berserk upon sensing the death of their kind.

"Mule No. 1" was forcibly divided and suppressed.

The original interconnected biological resonance was severed.

Without the support of a collective consciousness, these crops, incorporating the Tyrian genes, degenerated back into isolated and helpless plants.

Meanwhile, based on the actual situation on site, Luo Wei continued to issue new instructions.

"First tier, area three, entry angle adjusted to 15 degrees."

"Do not attempt to cut the rootstock in one go; cut it in two stages."

"The first step is to cut off the above-ground parts, and the second step is to remove the root nodules."

"Be quick, don't give them a chance to flow the starch back to the roots —"

His voice could be heard from time to time on the communication channel.

As a qualified auditor, Luo Wei was well aware of the shady dealings involved in "asset transfers".

When faced with a devastating blow, these damned wheat plants instinctively pump high-energy substances from their stems back into their underground root system.

Just like companies facing bankruptcy liquidation, they will transfer funds before the audit begins.

Once they succeed.

All Luo Wei got was a pile of worthless firewood.

The truly valuable starch, however, rots in the ground, nourishing terrifying underground monsters.

"Understood, boss!"

The drivers' responses were brief and forceful.

Without young master Valentine's haphazard guidance from an amateur to an expert, the harvester swarm demonstrated astonishing efficiency.

Twelve steel behemoths were arranged in a wedge-shaped formation.

The diamond chainsaws left fiery red streaks in the night.

"Zzz."

The ear-piercing sound of metal scraping against metal rose and fell.

When the chainsaw cuts into the hard, iron-like stem, there is no longer any corrosive sap splashing; instead, it produces a dull sound similar to cutting through rock.

To prevent "asset loss," Luo Wei resorted to his last resort.

"Logistics team, apply the hardener."

As soon as the order was given, several modified spray trucks followed.

High-concentration industrial brine, mixed with liquid nitrogen, is sprayed onto the freshly cut surfaces and roots.

In an instant, the deep cold locked up the flow of blood within the plant's vascular bundles.

The nutrients that tried to flow back were instantly frozen in the stem, becoming a real "inventory" in Loewe's ledger.

This is a massacre of plants.

It was also an industrial plunder of nature.

Amid the roar of machinery, the 72-hour harvesting window for the Grey Snail-1 is about to end.

As the eastern sky turned a sickly grayish-yellow, the last "wheat king" that tried to entangle its roots around the tracks was shredded by two combine harvesters.

The engine noise gradually faded until it went out.

The once rampant wheat fields have disappeared.

What came into view was a wasteland covered with tire tracks and black oil stains.

Of course, there were also piles of gray woven bags, like small mountains, with a cold, hard sheen, stacked up in the transfer area.

Lowe put down his binoculars.

Warm sweat from his palms remained on the lens barrel.

As he exhaled a breath of murky white air, his nerves, stretched to the limit, finally snapped for a moment.

Although the harvest started three hours earlier than expected.

But at this moment, a strong feeling of exhaustion welled up in my heart.

It made his nasal cavity feel sore.

In the eyes of Father Alpha, Buck, and young Master Valentine, he was a ruthless manager who could calculate everything perfectly, and a crazy gambler who dared to use heretical plants as stakes.

Only Luo Wei himself knew how many times he had seen himself being crushed by roots in his nightmares during those seventy-two hours.

Countless times, out of fear, I clutched the fragments of the Nurgle Amulet on my body in the dead of night.

"The dice have been rolled; all or nothing."

He muttered to himself.

This can hardly be called a glorious victory.

This was just a close call with death.

In this high-stakes gamble against time, against bloodthirsty plants, and against aristocratic power.

He staked his life on the table, his hands trembling, and won back all the chips!

The sky was bright.

The acid mist refracts a hazy halo under the sunlight.

Lowe descended the hill, his boots sinking into the hard frozen ground, his steps light and quick.

"Buck."

"Yes, boss!"

Buck's face was covered in oil, and he was quite excited.

Although he had barely slept all night, the high level of adrenaline made him look frighteningly energetic.

"Take two quick-thinking teams and go clean up the 'garbage' left behind by young master Valentine."

Luo Wei pointed to the middle of the experimental field, to the area that had been turned upside down by the roots.

That was where Valentine's luxurious command vehicle was destroyed by plants.

It was also the core area where the Valentine family's honor guard suffered the most casualties.

In Rowe's eyes, the dead guards were no longer life, nor were they corpses.

These are fixed assets that have already undergone depreciation and are awaiting write-off.

The equipment they left behind was an "unexpected gain" from the eastern granary.

"Remember, we are conducting battlefield environmental decontamination."

Luo Wei added a sentence.

This "looting" operation was given a veneer of compliance: "Any metal products that may cause environmental pollution must be recycled."

"Got it, totally got it!" Buck grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained yellow by tobacco, and rubbed his hands together, beckoning people to rush forward.

The scene was terrible.

The roots of the Tyrian plant possess an astonishing strangulation force, and coupled with the corrosive effect of its strong acid sap, most of the corpses turned into unrecognizable organic sludge.

Most of the once shiny and beautiful armor plates are now twisted and deformed.

But this did not dampen the veterans' enthusiasm for finding treasures in the garbage dump.

"Look what I found!"

Just ten minutes later, Buck came running back, carrying a bunch of things and stumbling along.

He picked up a heavy bomb gun.

The once magnificent golden double-headed eagle emblem on the gun was now covered in black blood and plant debris.

Fortunately, the barrel remained straight and the cooling grille was intact.

"This is really good stuff!"

Buck used his oil-covered sleeve to wipe the gun almost obsessively.

"The feel, the weight—this is a top-tier, precision-engineered bomb gun, far more valuable than my standard bomb gun!"

"Look at the inscription on this: 'The Emperor's Wrath.' That was Valentine's captain's sidearm!"

As he spoke, Buck expertly pulled back the bolt.

"Click."

A crisp, deep, and mechanically beautiful metallic clanging sound.

To Buck, the sound was more alluring than the breaths of the most popular dancers in the red-light district.

The standard bomb gun and the precision bomb gun are essentially the same in principle. However, the latter is a handcrafted, upgraded version with performance far exceeding that of the standard bomb gun in all aspects.

"And this, three Hellfire Guns!"

"This is a tough weapon that can penetrate light armor, but unfortunately the battery pack is leaking a bit."

Several soldiers followed behind Buck.

They were carrying several laser guns connected by thick cables, and had silly grins on their faces.

For these soldiers who use mass-produced laser guns year-round and have to worry about the batteries overheating and exploding, this equipment is simply a godsend.

Luo Wei took the precision-engineered bomb gun; it felt slightly heavy in his hand.

It is indeed a top-notch gun.

The bolt carrier employs a sophisticated recoil mechanism with a miniature anti-lock circuit.

Weapons of this caliber are typically only available to Space Marines and high-ranking officers.

The Valentine family certainly went to great lengths to bolster the image of their heir.

Don't get too excited yet.

Rowe threw the gun back to Buck.

It was like a bucket of cold water poured over Buck's feverish head.

"This gun uses standard caliber bolt-action rounds, and each bullet contains a miniature rocket booster and a mass-sensing fuse."

Lo Wei held up three fingers.

"The price of one bullet is roughly equivalent to the monthly allowance of three of your soldiers."

Buck's smile froze on his face.

"Furthermore, this precision-engineered weapon requires extremely high levels of maintenance."

"It requires specific holy oil and prayer rituals. If you still use a rag to wipe your butt, its mechanical spirit will malfunction at a crucial moment and send you to meet the Emperor."

Luo Wei pointed to several Hellfire Guns and continued, "As for this thing, its high-energy battery pack requires a dedicated high-voltage charging interface."

"Our base has several diesel generators that emit black smoke, and the voltage fluctuations are greater than your electrocardiogram. They explode every time they are charged."

""

The fervor in the eyes of the surrounding soldiers quickly cooled down.

In the wasteland, possessing an unmaintainable artifact often means an even quicker death.

"but----"

Rowe changed the subject, looking at Buck's face, which was on the verge of tears.

"We can't afford to maintain them, but they're sufficient as a one-time offensive weapon. What about that half-box of thermobaric bombs?"

"Yes, they're all here!" Buck quickly pointed to the metal box being carried by the two men behind him. "This thing is sturdy, it's not broken."

"very good."

Lo Wei nodded.

"Assign the molten bombs to the suicide squad. As for the precision-engineered bomb gun and the hell gun—Bark, they're yours."

"Until you run out of ammunition, you'll be the king of firepower here."

"After you're done hitting it, just use it as a hammer."

"Thanks, boss!" Buck immediately hugged the gun tighter, afraid that Rowe would change his mind.

For a seasoned soldier like him, even if it's just a single magazine of bullets, it's worth it to have a good time.