Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming.

What?

Chapter 2 Remain Silent

[System alert: Social module missing.]

Recommended solution: Remain silent.

Andy looked at the three oil enthusiasts on the ground, who were banging their heads against the ground, and he was actually terrified.

He's now just a human soul trapped in a tin can. If he opens his mouth and reveals his ignorance of those mystical prayers, these people will immediately turn hostile and pull out their guns.

In this godforsaken place called Warhammer 40, ignorance is a virtue, and silence is a form of deterrence.

So Andy, controlling his heavy metal body, didn't even look down at them, but simply pulled back the foot he had just used to kick the machine and stood there coldly.

The leading technical priest, Gamma-9, secretly raised his eyelids and glanced at it.

In his highly cybernetically modified visual sensors, Andy's smooth, unadorned metal shell, devoid of any scriptures or wax seals, is simply the pinnacle of minimalist art.

Gamma-9 instantly conjured up a 100,000-word backstory in his mind.

This unadorned style, this back-to-basics design, could it be the work of a legendary "ascetic" sage who abandoned all formalities in pursuit of ultimate efficiency?

Or is it some ancient prototype from the depths of Holy Terra, known only to the Imperial Guard?

Whatever it was, that earth-shattering "physical repair technique" was definitely a direct revelation from Om Messiah.

Only someone closest to the God of Myriad Machines could soothe the machine spirits with such brutality and precision.

Gamma-9 felt even more reverence, believing that every rust spot on Andy's body radiated divine light.

Andy had no idea what this guy was thinking; he just felt a little sore in his legs.

"rise."

A synthesized monosyllabic word popped out of Andy's speaker.

Gamma-9, feeling like he'd been granted a pardon, quickly got up with his two henchmen.

“Great sage, thank you for descending upon this forgotten wasteland.” Gamma-9’s voice was clearly obsequious. “Our shelter is nearby, the only place within a ten-kilometer radius where air purification units are still operating. Perhaps it can provide your sacred body with a little bit of energy.”

Andy just happened to see the battery warning in the upper right corner of his field of vision turn yellow.

Even an Iron Man needs to eat. Although the miniature fusion reactor inside his body is powerful, it consumes a huge amount of energy to start up. He urgently needs to replenish the fuel rods or be directly connected to high-voltage electricity.

Andy nodded slightly.

Gamma-9 was overjoyed and led the way.

The group walked through the labyrinthine bottom tunnels of Casting Furnace-7.

Andy's STC interface remained open.

This is pure torture.

In the eyes of this Iron Man who possesses the database of the Golden Age, everything around him is riddled with errors.

The streetlights on the roadside were wired in reverse, resulting in a brightness of only 30% of the designed value.

The load-bearing columns in the wall have been arbitrarily drilled with holes, and the structural strength is on the verge of collapse at any moment.

Even Gamma-9 himself is a joke.

STC scans revealed that the robotic arm Gamma-9 had fitted himself with was originally intended to be the gripper of some kind of industrial automated loading machine, but he had forcibly welded it to his shoulder. The neural interface wasn't even aligned, and he was only able to endure it with painkillers.

This is the current state of technology in Warhammer 40K: a bunch of incompatible junk forcibly pieced together, and then praying it works.

After walking for about twenty minutes, they arrived at an abandoned geothermal energy station.

This is the "refuge" that Gamma-9 mentioned.

Hundreds of ragged civilians huddled in a dark corner, the air thick with a nauseating, sour stench.

In the center of the hall, a huge machine was emitting a heart-wrenching scream.

The machine was vibrating and spewing out black smoke.

The people around were coughing violently, and some of the weaker ones had coughed up blood.

Gamma-9 strode to the machine, a sorrowful expression on his face.

“My sage, this is our last resort—the sacred air purification array.” Gamma-9 stroked the scorching hot machine shell. “Unfortunately, its machine spirit is old and groaning in its final moments. No matter how much holy oil we apply or how many fingers we sacrifice, it refuses to exhale any fresh air.”

Andy walked over.

The red warning box instantly locked onto the machine.

【Equipment Name: Imperial Type IV Environmental Circulation Machine (Remodeled)】

[Cause of failure: Missing intake valve, leading to combustion chamber pressure imbalance.]

The idea that a machine spirit is past its prime is simply because it's missing a part, causing it to burn out.

If it's not fixed quickly, this machine will turn into a dirty bomb in five minutes, sending everyone in this room to their deaths.

Andy's gaze followed STC's guidance, shifting from the machine to the Gamma-9.

To be precise, it landed on the tattered robotic arm of the Gamma-9.

At the elbow joint of that robotic arm hung a gleaming brass ring.

Gamma-9 noticed Andy's gaze and immediately proudly displayed the ring.

“My sage, your vision is truly as sharp as a torch.”

"This is a sacred relic I found deep in the ruins. It must be a ring left behind by some ancient and sacred machine. I wear it on my body and chant scriptures day and night, hoping to absorb a trace of the aura of the God of Machines."

Andy looked at the so-called "holy ring".

Judging from its diameter, threads, and material, this thing is definitely the missing air intake valve in this air purifier.

These tech enthusiasts take parts off and use them as amulets, then wail at the machines missing parts, saying the machine's spirit is about to die.

The red is warm.

The boy's blush spoke louder than any words.

Andy felt like his CPU fan was running at full speed.

He extended his cold, metallic finger and pointed to the "holy relic" on Gamma-9's arm.

"Give it to me."

Andy's voice was completely flat.

Gamma-9 paused for a moment, then touched the ring with a hint of reluctance: "Sage, this is..."

I won't say it a second time.

The blue light in Andy's eyes flickered.

The oppressive aura emanating from advanced technology instantly reminded Gamma-9 of the thrill of that kick just moments before.

He shuddered, quickly removed the "sacred object," and respectfully handed it to Andy.

Chapter 3 Recharge Recharge

Andy held the so-called "holy ring" between two fingers, disdainfully raising it to his eyes.

At that moment, he almost turned off his tactile sensors.

The surface of this thing is covered with a thick layer of dark brown grease, which is the "holy oil" that countless technical priests have applied over the decades, mixed with incense ash and dead skin tissue to form a patina.

Even more problematic is the threaded part.

The originally precise threads have been filled with red sealing wax.

The Mechanics have a bad habit: they believe that if a part cannot be installed, it must be because their faith is not devout enough. In this case, they need to use extremely pure red wax to seal the gap, euphemistically called "divine seal".

If you want to completely destroy a machine, the best way is to seal its air intake with wax.

The STC interface on Andy's retina is displaying errors like crazy.

[WARNING: 98% surface contamination on the part.]

Recommendation: Conduct industrial cleaning immediately.

Andy didn't have an ultrasonic cleaner; he only had one hand.

He bent down and picked up a greasy rag from the ground beside him.

This piece of cloth is probably cleaner than that priest's robe.

When they saw Andy rubbing the "holy relic" on the rag, Gamma-9's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Sage... Sage!" Gamma-9's voice trembled. "That contains the blessings of three generations of bishops! That holy oil is..."

"Shut up."

Andy only replied with two words.

He has a lot of strength.

DAOT's Iron Man of Engineering: His finger grip strength is so great that he can twist steel bars into a pretzel.

He wrapped the copper ring with the rag, twisted it hard, and then rubbed it vigorously.

The sound of the hardened wax cracking was particularly crisp in the air.

Gamma-9 let out a scream, as if Andy had wiped away not dirt, but his precious old face.

In Warhammer 40K, cleaning is a sacrilege, because dirt represents the sediment of history.

But for Andy, cleaning is cleaning.

Divide it in no time.

The original dark ring revealed the original color of brass, and Andy cleaned away the old grime in the threads with his fingernails.

Sure enough, it was just an ordinary industrial valve without any decorative patterns.

Andy threw away the tattered cloth that had turned black and turned to walk towards the air purifier that was still screaming.

The machine was vibrating more and more violently, and water was starting to spurt from one of the cooling pipes next to it.

The apprentices responsible for guarding the machines were kneeling on the ground, banging wrenches on the floor in an attempt to drown out the alarm with noise.

Unable to solve the problem, these people tried to solve the loudspeaker that was raising the issue.

Andy kicked aside an apprentice blocking his way and stood in front of the gap that was spewing out hot gas.

STC's field of view instantly locked onto the installation location.

[Target: Main intake valve interface.]

Optimal torque: 45 Nm.

[Caution: High-temperature surface.]

Andy's heat-resistant coating on his hands allowed him to ignore the steam that was hundreds of degrees hot.

He pressed the gleaming brass valve onto the notch.

In that instant, it was perfectly seamless.

The smooth feel of those industrial standard parts meshing together made Andy so happy that he almost overloaded the logic core.

This is what machines should look like.

There was no damned wax seal, no disgusting holy oil, only the purest contact between metal and metal.

Andy exerted force with his wrist and rotated it clockwise.

One lap, two laps, three and a half laps.

"Click".

A crisp locking sound rang out.

The next second, a miracle happened.

The enormous machine, which had been resembling a late-stage asthma attack, suddenly stopped vibrating.

The harsh metallic scraping sound disappeared, and the black smoke stopped.