Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

"Snapped!"

Elena flicked her wrist, and the whip tip exploded in the air with a sharp whistle, biting fiercely into the overseer's flesh. "Since you knew they were plotting underground, why didn't you send someone to follow them? Are your eyes on the top of your heads, only able to look up?"

The supervisor pleaded with a weak voice, his throat laced with blood and foam, "Supervisor, please have mercy. I'll check right away, right away."

"I agreed to the demands of the Eighth Precinct, and the strike is over. What else do you want to investigate?"

The supervisor collapsed in a pool of blood and twitched. He didn't know whether to investigate or not. He was afraid that he would be beaten to death here today.

"Get lost." Elena's leather boots crushed the supervisor's trembling fingers. "From now on, every time someone from District Eight goes down to the mine, they must be supervised by a supervisor. You must follow them personally!"

The supervisor crawled towards the door, twitching like a severed earthworm. His Adam's apple rolled up and down, but he only vomited out a few mouthfuls of blood foam, and then he disappeared into the shadows, crawling and rolling.

Elena stared at the silent void outside the window. She had begun to regret not killing anyone.

She agreed too easily. She should have made an example of someone to warn the rest. She couldn't let those slaves think that the strike was free of cost.

But she had just lost her composure. The quota of ore to be submitted to Chiavar could not be reduced by a single day. If the strike in the Eighth District caused Lycaeus to fail to pay the quota, it would not only affect their lives, but also her status.

The strike in the Eighth Precinct will not be an isolated case, and other precincts will surely follow suit.

In reality, even if each district were given an extra eight hours of rest, the slaves would still be able to meet their production quotas. The extra food rations would also give them more energy to work the mines, and the Thinker estimated that their efficiency would not decrease.

But there are some things she can give that others can't take away!

These slaves must pay for this!

……

Many of Lycaeus's mineral veins had long been shattered by thousands of years of excessive exploitation, like the hollowed-out bones of a giant beast.

But exhaust fans still inject polluted air into these abandoned mines, and these places have become secret bases for slaves, where the heads of various jurisdictions often conspire.

When Erin arrived with Wop, Corax, and the other children, along with the news that the Eighth District strike had been successful, they were all overjoyed and excited.

Corax: "The situation will be even more severe. Just because the Overseer doesn't kill people in the Eighth Precinct doesn't mean he won't kill people in other precincts. He might even return the humiliation he suffered in the Eighth Precinct to other precincts double."

Most of the district leaders were sincere and had no envy of the success of their fellow districts. After all, no one could predict whether the strike would be victorious until the dust settled.

The success of the Eighth District also provides them with a valuable reference sample, and they can make the same reasonable and well-founded demands on the supervisors as for the Eighth District.

Bertin: "So what should we do?"

Bertin was not the person in charge, but the person in charge of their district could not come, so he was chosen as the representative.

"Just die, there's no such thing as no sacrifice."

"If it only takes one or two lives to save the lives of others, we can die!"

"It's not just one or two lives." Corax poured cold water on them. "Erin promised the overseer to increase the ore quota submitted by the Eighth District by 10%. Do you know what this means?"

Erin looked up blankly. He didn't know how much trouble he had gotten into.

Because he naively thought he had made a contribution. Elena's request was 30%, and he negotiated it down to 10%.

"The 10% increase in the ore quota means you acknowledge that District Eight still has the capacity to mine more ore, and even secretly hides the mined ore. This will become the standard for every district in the future."

"It's nothing, right?" Bertan tried to speak up for Erin.

Their rest time increased by 66% and food rations increased by 50%.

The cost was just a 10% increase in ore quotas, which was nothing compared to the profits they earned.

"There are 10,000 people in the eighth district. A 10% increase in ore quotas means we can make up for the workload of 1000 people in other districts."

Corax's gaze lingered on Erin's face for a moment, and the sudden condensation of the air sent a chill down Erin's neck.

Before Bertan could understand, Erin's face had already turned pale. Only then did he finally and slowly realize that he seemed to have made an unforgivable mistake. "We, we can still regret it."

"It's too late." Corax shook his head. "She knows your bottom line now. Her bottom line for suppressing the strike has changed from not killing anyone to killing at least 9% of the people involved. If the Eighth District goes back on its word, she'll be the first to target it."

"One or two corpses are unlikely to shock everyone, but nine hundred corpses can shock many people."

"What should we do then?" asked the heads of other jurisdictions worriedly.

Corax: "Strike."

Erin's Adam's apple rolled. "This is going to kill a lot of people."

Even if the supervisors would not be so cruel as to kill 900 people in every jurisdiction, at least tens of thousands of people would die, which is completely different from their initial expectation of only a few deaths!

Corax: "So the remaining districts must strike together. No district can act alone. At least half of the districts must strike simultaneously. We can't give the overseers an opportunity to make an example of us."

Erin: "But didn't you say we couldn't let the overseer see we were working together?"

Corax: "We are not united, they are united against us."

"Will the Overseer believe it?"

"The key is not whether they believe it or not. Once a precinct goes on strike, supervisors have only two choices: suppress it or not."

"If half the jurisdictions were on strike simultaneously, the supervisor wouldn't have enough manpower to suppress the strike, nor would she dare gamble on shedding too much blood all at once, potentially paralyzing the entire production system. As long as she has any sense, she won't forcefully suppress the strike."

"Then everything is fine?" Bertan managed to utter.

Corax: "While she wouldn't dare turn the strike into a massacre, she'll definitely pick on the weak. Blood will be shed, and lives will fall, but we must not compromise. If even one person falls to their knees, the strike will collapse like dominoes!"

Corax was afraid that they didn't understand what dominoes were, so he demonstrated it to them using the stone blocks polished by Wop.

"We can't guarantee that everyone will be ready to die."

"You just need to make sure your leaders are prepared to die."

"Will we win?" Evelynya's voice was so soft that it almost disappeared into the air.

This childish question was like a piece of red-hot iron, suddenly branding it into everyone's heart.

Corax: "Give me the corpse starch sticks."

Corax held up a stick of corpse starch. "My father taught me a lesson: a chopstick breaks easily."

"Snapped!"

The corpse starch stick was broken in half.

"Ten chopsticks held together in a ball."

Corax raised a handful of corpse starch and pretended not to break it.

"As long as we unite as one, victory will be ours."

"I'll win, I promise!"

Corax's voice was not loud, but it was like a spark falling into dry wood, instantly igniting the crowd's determination.

"Then we'll die!"

"There are no soft persimmons among us. That bitch's plot will not succeed!"

"We need troops," Corax said, and the others fell silent.

Corax's voice was particularly clear in the silence. "The strike is only the first step in our fight for rights, but it is by no means the end. We don't seek to survive at the cost of our compatriots' blood and tears, but to end this evil system of slavery so that everyone can live like a human being!"

"I can't promise you that everyone will live to see the dawn," Corax said, looking around at everyone present, his voice low and firm, "but I swear to you, the dawn will come!"

In a trance, Wop saw the shadow of Angron in Corax again, and Angron had said similar words.

This was not what Wop taught him. He would only tell Corax the stories of the other Primarchs, but he would not tell Corax everything the other Primarchs had said.

The fact that they say similar things just shows that they have similar natures.

They are all people who ignite the fire, revolutionaries who hold high the torch and lead mankind to liberation!

"I really don't like the look in your eyes right now." Corax turned his head and stared at Wop, bluntly expressing his dissatisfaction with his father. "I don't know which brother of mine you saw, but I'm not a substitute for anyone!"

Wop: "I also assure you that I don't see you as a replacement for anyone."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I do see the shadow of your brother in you. You are very similar in some ways. I am glad that you are both good children."

Corax turned his face slightly, was silent for a moment, and uttered an ambiguous sound from his nose.

This answer is barely acceptable.

Wop is his father, and he should be tolerant of him.

He would make him understand that he and his brother did have similarities.

But it's not that he is like them, it's that they are like him.

He will kindle the flames of Lycaeus' revolution, until they spread to Chiavar and the whole Milky Way!

He will prove Wop wrong and he will not easily choose to save the five kills and one.

That was a choice Corax without Wop would make, not him.

The weak Corax was dead, and now he would always try to stop the tram first, even if it meant being smashed to pieces.

He wants to prove to Wop that he is the best among all the brothers!

Chapter 108 A New Revolution (5K)

Lycaeus had no shortage of soldiers. Millions of slaves were their soldiers. These trampled souls had long since disregarded life and death.

Erin: "What we lack is weapons. We are unarmed and can't even get a decent gun."

Lycaeus is not a habitable world. The endless factory complexes and roaring manufacturing assembly lines are all on Chiavar. Lycaeus has only bottomless mines and refineries that process ore all day long.

The ores dug out from the depths of the earth by slaves were tempered and purified in the furnace, turning into crystals with a gleaming metallic luster. Then they were continuously transported to the greedy planet along the gravity well that stretched between Lycaeus and Kiavar.

This invisible conveyor belt woven by gravity is Lycaeus' only lifeline, and it is also the chain that Chiavar has strangled around its neck.

Every gram of refined ore transported is a naked exploitation of Lycaeus; every siphoning of the gravity well is the ruthless sucking sound of the colonial system.

It is simply a pipe dream to want to shake this system by force. The overseers have a monopoly on the power of violence. Their arsenals are filled with live ammunition guns, shotguns and laser rifles, and the slaves don't even have the chance to touch the guns.

Sharokin: "Even without guns, explosives can still kill people. Anyway, we have no other choice."

Corax stared at Sharokin, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions.

These children were brought by Wop. Wop taught them as carefully as he taught himself, and they did not disappoint Wop's expectations.

Corax: "While it's not as good as the Overseer's standard rifle, it can somewhat bridge the technological gap between us and the Overseer."

Erin looked troubled. "But even though we have a lot of explosives, the quantity isn't huge."

Explosives are used in mining, and even if the supervisors have strict control, they have to distribute them to the slaves.

Failure to meet the required ore quotas resulted in severe punishment for both slaves and overseers.

However, the supervisors' supervision is also extremely strict. Every use of explosives must be registered in detail, and the amount used is precisely calculated by the Thinker system, almost to the millimeter.

The slaves could only occasionally accumulate small amounts of explosives by faking landslides and secretly hiding minerals, but the quantity was limited and it was difficult to accomplish anything.

Corax shook his head slightly. "I don't intend to start a war, nor do I need to start a riot in every district. As long as the rebels in one district can capture the Black Tower, victory will be ours."

Dynamite is a double-edged sword.

A laser rifle could at best burn a hole in a wall, but explosives could upend an entire corridor, burying the room along with it. Lycaeus had no atmosphere, so destroying the enclosed structure of the precinct would be suicidal.

Even if explosives had to be used, each detonation had to be precisely calculated to avoid killing one's own people.

Bertin: "So what are you waiting for? Act now!"

Erin was quick to grab the young man. He really couldn't understand why the Tenth District would send Bertin to attend such an important meeting.

Just because he once asked Beltane to pass a message to the Tenth District?

But that's because he really can't find anyone else!

Corax slowly raised his eyes, his voice as cold as ice. "Revolt now? Then tell me, what's the next plan?"

Bertin stopped talking abruptly, opened and closed his lips several times, and finally closed them stiffly.

“Revolution is not an arena for showing off one’s bravery. What we need is a battle that is as precise and coordinated as the gears of a clock, not the passionate enthusiasm of a mob.”

"Other jurisdictions don't have to attack the Black Tower directly, but they must also control the overseers within their jurisdiction. This requires each jurisdiction to establish a well-organized army."

"Even if we capture the Black Tower and liberate Lycaeus, the supplies needed to sustain the lives of millions of Lycaeus depend entirely on Chiaval. If Chiaval's supplies are cut off, millions of people will quickly fall into famine."

"Every 365 standard days, Kiaval delivers supplies to Lycaeus via the gravity well, unloading tons of water tanks and sealed food containers. These supplies can meet Lycaeus' needs for an entire year."

"The best window for an uprising is within 48 hours after the supply is completed. By then, the supervisors will have sent a large number of people to count the supplies, and their vigilance will be lowered."

"Have you considered these key factors in your plan?"