Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 106 Shattered (Bonus Chapter)

A brief silence fell over the carriage.

Rowe turned his head, glanced at Buck's hopeful one eye, and said calmly, "This is called asset recovery, Captain Buck. Young Master Valentine paid expensive depreciation fees for the equipment; we are simply making reasonable use of the residual value."

After a pause, Luo Wei added, "As for your request, don't worry."

"I never treat my own people unfairly. Once this tithe settlement is completed, we will have a sufficient surplus on our books."

Luo Wei straightened his cuffs, gazing at the faint lights of the northern granary in the darkness ahead, and slowly said, "When the time comes, I won't just ask the Governor's Office for bullets. I'll apply for a weapons quota, as well as a full set of armor."

"Since you've risked your lives for me, I have an obligation to improve your survival rate. Training a skilled veteran costs far more than a few boxes of bullets."

"Really?! Thank you so much, boss! Thank you so much, boss!"

Buck was so excited he almost jumped up from his seat, hugged the gun and kissed it hard.

Ahead, a steel jungle appeared on the horizon.

Countless towering chimneys spewed flames, turning the night sky a dark red.

The roar of machinery could be heard several kilometers away.

We've arrived at the northern granary.

This is a city that never sleeps.

The convoy drove into the unloading area of ​​the northern grain depot.

Lowe did not order a rest.

The characteristics of the "Grey Mule-1" mean that they cannot be stored for long periods of time.

Once removed from the soil, after more than 48 hours, the high-energy substances inside will begin to decay and transform into highly toxic waste.

Time is profit.

"Take it directly to Workshop 4. Everyone unload!"

Lowe jumped out of the car, his boots landing on the oil- and blood-stained ground.

One o'clock in the morning.

The fourth deep processing workshop.

The pistons roared overhead, their rhythm heavy.

Everywhere you look, you see the coldness and irritability of industrialized production.

The conveyor belt is running.

Bags of grayish-white "Grey Mule-1" wheat were grabbed by a robotic arm and roughly dumped into a giant feed chute.

The crops made a clattering sound as they fell, striking the metal walls with a crisp sound and producing sparks.

It's like dumping gravel.

However, the noise made Luo Wei, who was supervising from the side, feel incredibly peaceful and at ease.

The old-fashioned mills in the eastern granary, which had been in service for three centuries, would only break their gears when faced with these silicified wheat grains.

Only here, and only with Bill the Butcher's pride and joy, his ultra-high-pressure crusher unit called "Bone Crusher," can this task be accomplished.

"Initiate Level 1 detoxification process."

The machine in front of the control panel emitted a cold, synthesized electronic voice.

Water was started being added to the reaction vessel below.

It is not ordinary water.

It is a highly concentrated alkaline solution mixed with a neutralizing agent.

The grayish-white wheat grains were soaked in it, and the liquid boiled instantly, producing turbid foam.

This is a necessary procedure.

During its growth, "Grey Mule-1" greedily absorbed the strong acid and industrial waste from the A-3 experimental field.

These toxins concentrate in the awns and skin, forming a tough defensive layer.

A strong alkaline solution will peel off this outer shell and dissolve the heavy metal crystals attached to the surface.

Half an hour later, the turbid waste liquid was discharged.

The washed wheat grains appeared sickly pale.

"Start the secondary crushing process and fully open the steam pressure valve."

As soon as the command was given, the compaction rollers began to rotate.

"Click, click."

The sound of metal exploding echoed throughout the workshop.

Even after softening, the wheat grains remain hard.

High-pressure steam is injected into the pulverizing chamber, and the temperature instantly soars to 300 degrees Celsius.

Under the combined effects of high temperature and thousands of tons of mechanical pressure, the tightly locked starch structure inside the wheat grain begins to disintegrate.

They turned into a grayish-brown powder.

The powder travels through pipes into the final molding machine.

The hydraulic press fell heavily, pressing the powder into standard-sized cuboids.

A full twenty hours.

Luo Wei stood on the platform, without moving an inch.

His gaze was fixed on the roaring assembly line, scrutinizing every step and watching the transformation of every gram of asset.

Until the last bag of "Grey Mule-1" raw wheat was swallowed into the machine and the final product was spit out.

Luo Wei stepped off the platform and went to the discharge port.

He was wearing gloves when he picked up a freshly baked black cube.

This thing is still radiating intense heat, and its density is astonishing.

It was only the size of a palm, yet it felt as heavy as lead in my hand.

Its surface is as smooth as a mirror, without any plant fiber texture, but instead it gleams with a cold light.

It doesn't smell of wheat or food.

Instead, it was mixed with the pungent smell of chemical agents.

This is the finished product.

Or rather, this is the form that Gray Mule 1 should have taken:

A compressed "biofuel block".

In Lowe's assessment of his assets, this thing had transcended the base pleasure of "food" and evolved into pure "energy".

The energy density of "Grey Mule-1" was so high that it was almost ferocious.

If eaten directly, the fragile digestive system of ordinary people would collapse instantly.

However, on the brutal front lines of the Astronautical Army, this is the highest level of hard currency.

No complicated processing is required. The cooks on the front lines simply throw this black block into a large pot, add several tons of filtered water, and boil it vigorously.

The hard cube will melt into a pot of thick, black, oily soup, radiating a dizzying heat.

"Just a small sip is enough to unleash a torrent of energy that burns through the veins, sustaining an adult soldier for three full days of intense combat in an extremely cold war zone."

This is the core value of "Grey Mule 1".

It is a "high-energy compressed fuel" specifically prepared for elite troops fighting in a world of death, where supply lines may be cut off at any time.

Of course, if they felt they weren't getting enough to eat, the cooks could add lots of cheap sawdust, or even soil and sand.

Coming to his senses, Luo Wei breathed a sigh of relief.

He no longer needed to personally oversee the subsequent packaging process.

Because he has already completed the most crucial asset transformation.

On the Executive Yuan's thick tithe ledger, this 12,000-ton heavy "black lead block," through the legal conversion of its calorific value, is no longer an insignificant grain, but has the deductible value of 360,000 tons of standard grain.

This is a perfect example of accounting alchemy.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Brother Luo Wei!"

A rough, loud voice interrupted Luo Wei's thoughts.

"Butcher" Bill strode over.

His heavy industrial exoskeleton clattered as he stepped onto the grating floor.

A greedy glint flashed in Bill's single eye.

He can see the profits these things represent.

"This thing is really tough; it's practically made for the damn battlefield."

Bill patted Rowe's shoulder hard, so hard that Rowe almost stumbled.

"With this shipment, my tithe target for this year is secure. I can even haggle with that deadpan tax collector and maybe get a few more boxes of explosives."

Luo Wei took a half step back without making a sound and straightened his wrinkled collar.

"This is a win-win situation, Your Excellency Bill. The eastern granary completed production, and the northern granary completed processing. We both honored the contract."

"Of course, of course!"

Bill was in a great mood.

After the Ninth Grain Depot fell, his supply of raw materials was cut off for a long time.

The shipment that Luo Wei delivered solved his immediate problem.

Bill, brandishing his massive mechanical arm, proposed, "To celebrate our friendship and this damn harvest, don't rush off. I've had dinner prepared."

"A dinner party?" Lowe repeated the word.

"That's right, my bunch of bastards caught a few mutated monitor lizards by the swamp today. They're good stuff, the meat is tender and chewy."

"We marinate them raw, then pair them with my treasured spirits made from industrial alcohol—it's absolutely potent!"

Bill let out a thunderous laugh, showing off his delicious food.

Lowe kept his facial muscles stiff, showing no sign of disgust.

He turned his head slightly to look at Buck behind him.

Upon hearing the words "raw marinated," Buck, a seasoned veteran, turned deathly pale as if by reflex.

The memory of being forced to swallow the eyeball of the plague rat at Bill's place was clearly still attacking his stomach.

Buck immediately clutched his stomach.

"Ouch—" Buck let out an exaggerated cry, curling up like a shrimp. "Boss, my stomach."

I think I'm going to get a perforation, probably because I inhaled too much acid fumes last night.

Butcher Bill paused for a moment, then muttered with some dissatisfaction, "Is that all? The soldiers from the Eastern Granary have such delicate stomachs."

Rowe's face showed just the right amount of regret: "I'm very sorry, Manager Bill."

"As you can see, my security captain is currently in a seriously poor condition."

"If he is not sent back for treatment in time, it may cause permanent functional damage."

As he spoke, Lowe looked at the waiting convoy outside and explained, "In addition, there are millions of acres of conventional crops in the eastern granary waiting to be harvested."

"That's a huge asset, and we can't afford to make any mistakes. As the supervisor, I have to get back as soon as possible to take charge."

"There will be plenty of opportunities to eat later. We can celebrate when the Tithe's spaceship takes off."

The reasons are sound, and it is in the common interest of both parties: tithe.

Even if Bill was rude or unhappy, he could still tell what was important.

"Alright, alright, work comes first." Bill waved his hand somewhat disappointedly. "You guys who play with pens are just a nuisance."

He turned around and yelled at his men, "Fill up the gas tank for Advisor Lowe's convoy! Don't let them break down halfway!"

Ten minutes later.

As the convoy drove out of the gates of the northern granary, its wheels rolled over the frozen wasteland, leaving the steel fortress behind. The air inside the vehicles seemed to become a little fresher.

Buck, sitting in the back of the number 1 chimera transport vehicle, immediately stopped his exaggerated wailing.

He unscrewed the kettle, tilted his head back, and gulped down the water until the lingering fear in his mouth was washed away. Then he wiped his mouth and chuckled, "Boss, you saved my life. I just saw the lizard meat, still twitching in the plate."

"If I eat another of that madman's biochemical dinner, I'll have to go to the Golden Throne and see the Emperor himself."

, 7

After Buck finished speaking, he waited for a response, as was his habit.

Normally, at this point, Luo Wei would coldly throw out a complicated auditing term.

This time, however, there was no response.

"Boss?"

Buck looked at the passenger seat with some confusion.

By the faint green glow of the dial, I realized that Lo Wei was asleep.

This manager, who always operates like a precision instrument, is always calm and always has a perfect plan. At this moment, he is leaning his head against the cold bulletproof car window and snoring as the road bumps along.

Only at this moment, seeing Rowe completely unguarded and dignified, did Buck realize one thing:

He was just a mortal.

Buck counted on his fingers:

First, there was the A-3 experimental field, where they worked day and night for 72 hours straight, risking their lives to harvest the crops.

This was followed by armed escorts that covered thousands of miles.

Once here, it's another 20 hours spent watching the assembly line —

It lasted almost four days and four nights.

During those four days, Buck was able to take a nap in the truck bed wrapped in his coat during shift changes.

What about Crowe?

His nerves were constantly on edge, without a moment's respite.

Even the strongest person would have been worn out long ago.

A sense of awe, unlike anything he had ever felt before, welled up in the heart of this rough old soldier.

"Damn it—"

Buck cursed himself under his breath.

Then, he reached out a hand and gently patted the driver's shoulder, making a shushing gesture.

He then pointed ahead, indicating that the driver should drive more steadily.

Buck then sat up straight again.

He stopped talking and simply hugged the precision-engineered explosive gun in his arms even tighter.

The one-eyed creature vigilantly observed the dark wasteland outside the window.

His gaze was fiercer and more focused than ever before.

Now that the brain that has been bearing all the pressure is finally willing to rest.

Now, it's his turn, this knife, to keep watch.

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