Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming.

Hearing this, Ben, who was standing next to him, also lowered his head, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the gun.

Without a doubt, that was the most devastating loss the Brotherhood of Rust had ever suffered, nearly breaking their backbone.

If it weren't for the need to survive, who would willingly go to that cursed place to die?

The atmosphere at the scene became extremely oppressive.

The fear of the unknown and the sense of powerlessness in the face of death weigh on everyone's heart.

Even the Gamma-9 had a gear symbol drawn on its chest, and it was muttering "May the machine spirit protect us."

In this suffocating silence.

Andy suddenly spoke up:

“That place is indeed quite chaotic, but your judgment is correct.”

Andy turned around and casually pointed to the mountain of white starch balls piled up in the truck bed behind him.

"As you can see, I'm the one who got these things there."

Roger suddenly raised his head, his mouth wide open, and didn't even react when the ash from the cigarette burned his chin.

"Wh...what?"

Roger suspected that his hearing sensors were malfunctioning.

"You're saying all of this... came from that underground ecological park?!"

"Ah."

Andy nodded, his tone relaxed.

"The plants there are indeed a bit under-pruned, the weeds are growing too tall, and there are some unfriendly flowers."

"This made the path difficult to navigate when I went in."

Andy patted the chainsaw at his waist, which he hadn't had time to clean and still had bits of green plant hanging from its teeth.

"So I used a gun and a chainsaw to do some...weeding."

Roger glanced at Andy, his gaze finally settling on the chainsaw at Andy's waist.

Not only Roger, but all the brothers watching were in a frenzy.

The entire room fell into a deathly silence.

Abandoned mine area No. 39, underground ecological park, a death zone where twelve fully armed elite soldiers went in and were silenced.

In the mouth of this mechanical monster, it's just a small garden that needs "a little weeding"?

Is this some kind of new interstellar joke?

Most importantly, he actually managed to bring the grain out!

Not just a little bit, but a whole truckload!!

Chapter 14 Trade and Control (Please continue reading)

Andy's words were like a heavy hammer blow, shattering Roger Castle's last bit of composure.

He bluntly told him that the place of death, which the Brotherhood of Rust considered a forbidden zone and which had claimed the lives of twelve of their most elite warriors, was, in the words of this bald robot, just a backyard that needed "a little weeding."

And they weren't just bragging; there was a whole cartload of real grain right there.

What does this mean?

This illustrates that the gap in strength between the two sides is no longer in the same league.

Andy's ability to move freely in that place and even engage in production means that even if the entire Brotherhood of Rust rushed up there with blasting guns, they would probably only be sending Andy a bunch of scrap metal.

Roger is a smart man. Anyone who can rise to the top in the underworld knows when to be tough and when to back down.

Since we can't beat them, and they're even willing to feed us, we might as well just obediently become their underlings.

The subsequent negotiations went so smoothly it was almost like playing house.

Roger didn't even dare to haggle; he did whatever Andy said.

One kilowatt-hour of electricity can be exchanged for one kilowatt-hour of grain.

The Brotherhood of Rust was responsible for providing manpower and materials, and within two days, they connected two high-voltage power lines from the fission power plant to the shelter.

In addition, Andy also asked the Brotherhood to provide three technicians with basic mechanical skills to help debug the production line at the shelter.

In return, Andy prepaid 500 kilograms of starch balls.

This 500 kilograms of food is enough to keep the Brotherhood members going through the toughest weeks, and it can even improve their meals a little by cooking some thick porridge.

The trade deal had been finalized, but Andy wasn't in a hurry to leave.

"Roger, take me to see that farm."

Andy hung the heavy logging gun back on his back, speaking calmly.

"That fungal farm that cut off your food supply."

Roger paused for a moment, a wry smile appearing on his face.

“Andy, there’s nothing left to see there.” Roger shook his head. “It’s all mud and mold, and it smells awful.”

"And... there might be poison there."

“It’s okay.” Andy pointed to his metal head. “I’m not afraid of poison. I just want to do a technical assessment.”

Roger had no choice but to lead Andy deeper underground into the power station.

After passing through several rusty airtight doors, we walked down a waterlogged corridor for about two hundred meters.

Before he even entered the room, Andy's sensor was already red.

[Warning: Airborne spore concentration is dangerously high.]

[WARNING: Sulfur-containing organic toxins detected.]

Roger and Ben put on thick gas masks and held those old-fashioned Geiger counters in their hands.

Pushing open the last door, a visible plume of black smoke rushed out.

From the outside, this place should have originally been a huge underground reservoir, which was later transformed into a fungal culture room.

In dozens of long, narrow cement troughs, grayish-white edible mushrooms should have been growing.

Now, all that remains are puddles of black, sticky mud.

The walls, ceilings, and even the handrails in the hallway were covered with that kind of black, velvety mold.

The air was filled with a nauseating smell, like a dead rat that had been preserved in formaldehyde for three years.

"See? It's all over."

Roger's voice came through the gas mask, sounding muffled and filled with deep despair.

"Just last week, overnight."

"All the mycelia started to turn black and liquefy."

"We tried changing the water, spraying disinfectant, and even burning it, but nothing worked."

Andy didn't say anything.

He walked to a culture tank, stretched out his finger, and dipped it in the black viscous liquid.

The STC analyzer starts up instantly.

[Sample analysis: Complex organic fungi (deceased).]

[Cause of death: Cell wall lysis, protein denaturation.]

[Toxin residue: C12H18Cl2N2O...]

Sure enough, this was not a natural disease at all.

This is a symptom of poisoning.

Someone has thrown a powerful herbicide here that specifically targets the cell walls of fungi.

Moreover, this herbicide has a very stable chemical structure and can remain in the soil and water sources for a long time, ensuring that the land will be barren for the next fifty years.

Andy understood.

Can he save him?

can.

Although this toxin is potent, the STC database contains at least eight hundred neutralizing agent formulations that can neutralize it.

It doesn't even need to be that complicated. Just replace all the soil here, filter the water several times, and sprinkle some resistant bacteria. Production can be resumed in a month or two.

But Andy didn't intend to do that.

He silently crossed out the option of "helping the Brotherhood of Rust repair the farm" in his mind.

The reason is simple: it's all about control.

The "Eden-class Prototype" in Andy's hand is not a perpetual motion machine with unlimited energy.

Although that thing was a cutting-edge technology from the golden age, capable of producing starch out of thin air, it still followed the law of conservation of energy.

According to STC's calculations, the high-energy bio-battery stored inside that original species could probably support the production of 10,000 to 20,000 tons of starch.

Once it's exhausted, it will turn into an ordinary stone.

When the time comes, Andy will have to take it back to that underground ecological park and use its unique high-energy ecological environment to recharge it.

This back-and-forth process is very risky and costly.

Therefore, every starch ball is a precious strategic resource.

If Roger and his crew could grow their own mushrooms, even if they tasted bad and had a low yield, at least they could have enough to eat.

Once people are full, they start to have ideas, they start to want to be independent, and they stop wanting to listen to Andy.

Only when they completely give up any hope, only when they realize that they would starve without Andy, will these tech fanatics obediently work for Andy.

That's how trade was established.

If you want to control your partner, the best way is to grab him by the neck and tell him you're helping him breathe.

Andy turned around and looked at Roger, who had a hopeful expression on his face.

Roger's eyes were like those of a drowning person looking at the last straw.

He was clearly hoping that this mysterious sage could perform another miracle and save this rotten land.

Andy shook his head, his movements resolute.

"It's hopeless."

Andy's voice was cold and devoid of any emotion.

"This land is now abandoned."

"The soil structure has been completely destroyed, and the toxins have seeped deep into the rock layers."

"Unless this entire underground layer is dug out and refilled with soil, not even a weed can grow here."

Upon hearing this, the light in Roger's eyes went out.

He lowered his head and his shoulders slumped.

Deep down, he knew there was no hope, but he just wouldn't give up.

Now that even a legend like Andy has been sentenced to death, he's truly dead.

"Alright, stop thinking about it."

Andy patted Roger on the shoulder, dusting off his moldy leather jacket.

"This is life."

"From now on, work for me. Even if this land turns to rubble, I'll guarantee you'll have food to eat."

This statement sounds very loyal, but in Andy's mind, it was just a simple supplementary clause to the employment contract.

Just as Andy was preparing to leave this toxic, horrific place.