Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 104 Cost Accounting

Father Alpha looked up in astonishment as Loewe revealed his secret.

The hydraulic rod on the metal jaw stiffened slightly, emitting a dry, grinding sound: "How—how did you know?"

Lowe flicked his cigarette ash and smiled calmly, "I'm the supervisor, Father. Every single screw here is on my balance sheet. Especially something as expensive and controlled as 'holy oil'."

He took a step closer and said in a deep voice, "I've seen your expense report. Although you disguised the expenses as engine lubrication consumables," the amount consumed is enough to provide a full maintenance service for an armored company."

"Unless you're drinking holy oil like water, the only explanation is that you're performing a high-intensity, undocumented purification ritual."

Father Alpha's electronic prosthetic eye flickered a few times, as if he wanted to explain.

However, he was interrupted by Luo Wei raising his hand.

"In fact, Father, I'm not blaming you. On the contrary, it is precisely your efforts in 'breaking the rules' that have prevented this chariot from sliding completely into the abyss you fear."

Rowe patiently guided him, "Alpha, have you ever wondered why it has maintained such a strange dynamic balance despite absorbing so much of the plague's filth and Tyrannosaurus's biomass?"

"Why did it evolve a skeleton and carapace similar to those of a living creature, but not grow demonic horns and sores?"

Before the priest could answer, Lowe gave his prepared answer.

A crazy assumption that could shatter mechanical dogma: "Because this is not just corruption, it's a war."

The shadow of "the Lord of the Soul Forge" is indeed watching this place. However, the Tyranids' instinct for "adaptation and consumption," ingrained in their genes, is battling the corrupting forces of the Warp at a microscopic level.

Lowe gestured with a balance scale in the air: "It's like two 'bad debts' of completely opposite nature, canceling each other out."

"And the purification ritual you secretly perform every night is the crucial weight on the scales."

"You helped the machine spirit of the tank suppress the evil and chaotic side, but preserved the possibility of Tyran's evolution."

"Is this... even possible?"

Father Alpha's core logic began to operate wildly.

The cooling fan behind it emitted an overloaded buzzing roar.

This bold and blasphemous assumption instantly shattered his crumbling defenses of dogma.

It strikes at the depths of his heart, at the inextinguishable thirst for knowledge characteristic of radical priests.

"Terren's biological instincts neutralized the mechanical corruption of the Warp."

The priest muttered to himself, the red light in his eyes flashing intensely.

"If this is true, it would be an unprecedented discovery in the history of the Cult of Mechanics!"

"This may be a new path to truth, capable of rewriting the underlying logic of the Mechanical Bible!"

"That's right, this is a road that no one has ever traveled before, and you, Alpha, are the only guide."

Rowe pressed his advantage, saying, "Destroying the tanks is easy; a single thermobaric bomb will suffice. But doing that will prevent you from ever verifying this hypothesis."

"You will forever be nothing more than a lowly priest, exiled to this remote agricultural planet, repairing tractors. Carrying your regrets and thirst for knowledge, you will eventually become a pile of worthless scrap metal."

"But the risk is too great—" the priest still had many concerns.

"That's why I need you, Alpha." Lowe reached out and placed his hand on the priest's cold metal shoulder.

His eyes turned cold.

"I need you to monitor it with the most professional eye and to restrain it with the most stringent rituals."

"You're not just a repairman; you're its attending physician and its jailer!"

"Let's make a deal. You will continue to study and nurture it, but you must report its condition to me regularly."

Lowe said in a deep voice, "Bark and the others picked up some unexploded thermobaric bombs from the ground. In a bit, go under the car and install a remote-controlled one."

"Once the tank's various readings cross the safety threshold you set," once it exhibits irreversible chaotic tendencies—"

"At that time, without the need for a court to intervene, I will personally press the detonator to complete the final asset liquidation."

The priest remained silent for a long time, and the noise from the fan gradually subsided.

"Praise be to Om Messiah—this is truly a dance on the edge of a cliff," the priest sighed.

"Deal, advisor. I'll keep a close eye on it, even if my processor burns out, I won't let that person's shadow completely take over the chariot."

"Very good, it's a pleasure working with you."

Luo Wei nodded.

This kind of communication is essential between partners.

At this moment, Father Alpha seemed to notice something, leaned closer, and asked doubtfully, "Advisor, according to the behavioral data model of the past 2160 hours, you do not have an addictive habit of nicotine consumption."

The priest looked at the burning cigarette in Rowe's hand: "This act of burning plant fibers and inhaling toxic particles will cause irreversible carbon buildup in your biological alveoli, your already fragile 'wet filter'."

"This would reduce your blood oxygen exchange efficiency as a biological terminal, which seriously contradicts your logic of pursuing the ultimate input-output ratio."

Upon hearing this, Luo Wei swirled the smoke in his mouth once and then exhaled.

"You're right, Father. Smoking is indeed harmful to health; it not only damages the lungs but also easily causes fires."

He casually tossed the cigarette butt on the ground.

A tiny, blinding spark landed on the ground, which was stained with years of grease.

There were only a few centimeters between them and a leaking waste oil ditch.

Even a slight deviation could ignite the entire underground maintenance area.

Lo Wei lifted his foot, and the sole of his shoe quickly rolled over the cigarette butt.

Only after the flame had completely died down did he raise his head and explain, "I do not smoke. However, this thing is not just an addiction; it is also the most concealed and portable delayed-action fire source."

Luo Wei straightened his collar and said, his words dripping with venom, "Alpha, if you had rejected my proposal just now, if your logical fallacy was to report me to the Inquisition—"

""

"Then this cigarette butt will be the end here."

"After all, my principle is: if bad debts cannot be resolved, the only option is to 'physically write off' the entire ledger."

"A fire caused by accidental aging of electrical circuits is always the best way to conclude an audit, isn't it?"

Father Alpha was startled again, and the cooling fan started making a rapid noise.

He was frantically calculating the probability of truth in Lowell's words.

The final conclusion is:

100%.

"Your risk control plan is truly impressive, consultant," the priest said dryly, then quietly manipulated the servo arm to wipe the oil seepage grooves on the ground.

Luo Wei pretended not to see his little trick and turned to walk towards the chariot lurking in the shadows.

"Now that we've reached a consensus, let's get it ready to get to work."

"We'll still need this monster to clear the way for us on the road ahead."

Nine o'clock in the morning.

A long line formed in front of the weighbridge at the temporary warehouse.

The truck drove over the steel plate of the weighbridge, making a dull thud every now and then.

The sound was like ore being transported.

Old John, carrying an electronic data board and sweating profusely, ran up to Rowe.

Old John exclaimed excitedly, "Supervisor, the data is in! Experimental field A-3 covers a total area of ​​10,000 mu, with a total yield of 12,000 tons."

Upon hearing this number, even the usually composed Luo Wei's eyelids twitched slightly.

Twelve thousand tons.

In the world of ordinary agriculture, a yield of four or five thousand tons of wheat from ten thousand acres of land would be considered a bumper harvest.

Here, the yield per mu reached an astonishing 1200 kilograms.

This figure is nothing short of a mockery, or even a desecration, of traditional imperial agronomy.

"However, supervisor, there's a big problem."

Old John wore a bitter expression.

"These wheat grains may not seem like much in terms of weight, but they are too heavy and too hard."

Luo Wei walked over and picked up a grain of wheat.

This isn't wheat; it's clearly a gray lead bullet.

It was heavy, and its surface was covered with tiny metallic crystals.

This is a protective layer that precipitates out of wheat after it has absorbed a large amount of heavy metals from the waste liquid.

Old John complained, "Our sacks simply can't hold anything. The prickly wheat awns tear the sacks like sieves. The porters' gloves wear through in half an hour."

"And another thing, sir. The density is too high. A cartload of wheat of the same volume weighs more than three times that of ordinary wheat."

"Just now, the leaf springs of two trucks were crushed and broken. The repair team is now welding steel plates on them."

Lowe didn't frown at the bad news; instead, he gave a cold laugh.

hard? Heavy?

now it's right.

If you're not tough, how can you survive in a wasteland filled with strong acid?

If they're not heavy, how can you prove they've absorbed all the essence from those industrial wastes?

He found a slightly cleaner bag to sit down, took out his notebook from his pocket, and began to do the final tithe calculation.

This is the most crucial step.

Cost accounting:

Fuel and manpower:

The efficiency was severely exceeded. With 12 harvesters as the main force, serfs and laborers worked together, operating at high load for 72 consecutive hours to harvest 10,000 acres of land. This "mining-style harvesting" was infuriatingly inefficient.

Income accounting (tithe weight):

Absolute physical weight:

1.2 million tons.

Calorific value conversion rate:

1:30 (based on the fact that Grey Snail No. 1 contains 12 times the standard protein of Terra wheat and has an ultra-high energy compression ratio).

Tith book value:

1.2 tons × 30 = 36 tons of standard starch quota.

Looking at the final calculation results, Luo Wei's lips curled up slightly.

The eastern granary is responsible for the "Fengrao No. 2" project, currently accounting for 70% of the tithe tax, with a quarterly target of over three million tons.

However, these are all cheap "junk starches" meant for the poorest people in the city.

What the Imperial Star Force's frontline troops really desperately need is high-energy military rations.

According to the Wartime Military Supplies Exchange Act, this 12,000-ton "Grey Mule No. 1" only occupies a small corner of the warehouse in terms of physical tonnage, but in the Executive Yuan's accounts, it is enough to offset a shortage of 360,000 tons of low-grade wheat.

This is the source of his confidence to use 12 machines and spend 3 days and 3 nights harvesting 10,000 mu of land.

What he harvested wasn't grain, it was clearly concentrated energy blocks!

Luo Wei closed his notebook.

Profit margin exceeds 400%.

In any normal business world, this would be an insanely high profit.

In the desolate universe of Warhammer 40, this means even more so the means to survive.

"Tell the transport team not to fill the truck too full, only half full."

Lowe gave the order to old John.

"As for the damaged bags, don't worry about it. The wheat is as hard as a rock anyway, it won't break even if it's spilled in the carriage."

He stood up and looked toward the territory of "Butcher" Bill in the north.

That's where the Fengrao No. 2 processing capacity is strongest.

"Our old flour mills in the eastern granaries are too outdated to process these grains. If we force it, the millstones will just break."

Rowe dusted off his hands and ordered, "Deliver the grain to the northern granary according to plan. Only Bill's teeth can crush the gray mule."

Number"."

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