Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming.

"The quarterly report is done...it's all made of sausage...it's especially beautiful..."

"Look at this green mold, it means profits are increasing!"

"Fuck your profits!!"

Sisyphus roared in despair and fired another shot.

"Sizzle—!"

The blue plasma cluster pierced through the heavily dented wooden door, creating a large hole in the CFO's stomach.

But it didn't work!

The body blessed by the evil spirits possesses an unreasonable and tenacious vitality.

Unless you burn them to ashes, even if only their heads are left, they will wriggle over and preach to you.

Sisyphus looked at the gun in his hand.

The red low battery warning light is flashing. Plasma weapons are powerful, but they consume energy very quickly.

He only had two shots left.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

Sisyphus threw away his pistol and pulled a hot melt gun from under the table.

"What kind of idiots are these?!"

He'd been in the underworld for so many years and had seen all sorts of lunatics.

Although the skinners in the industrial area were violent, at least they would just behead someone, skin them, and that was it.

Although the carnivals that are popular in the north are perverse, at least they still pay attention to sensory stimulation.

This so-called loving father!

Sisyphus was a capitalist with obsessive-compulsive disorder and a pure materialist who believed that wealth was the order.

He could not understand, and absolutely could not accept, such a sordid belief.

What's so good about turning your body into a pile of rotten flesh?

How does a rotten piece of meat wear a haute couture suit? How does a rotten piece of meat taste Armase brandy? How does a rotten piece of meat count money?

If you lose the physical body to enjoy wealth, what's the point of living?!

This simple yet steadfast worldly desire has now become his most powerful spiritual shield against the corruption of chaos.

"I haven't earned enough yet! I haven't bought a house in Shangchao yet!"

Sisyphus gritted his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes.

The banging outside the door grew louder and louder, and a large crack had appeared in the wooden door.

A hand covered in green mold reached in, trying to grab the doorknob.

Sisyphus raised the hot melt gun and pulled the trigger.

"hiss--"

That hand was instantly vaporized.

But more hands reached in.

The entire base has fallen; all the bodyguards are dead or have defected.

He is now an isolated island.

In desperation, Sisyphus grabbed the emergency communicator on the table.

This was left to him by Andy, who said it was an encrypted channel directly connecting to the shelter.

"Connect me! Connect me now, you damn yellow-skinned canned food!"

Sisyphus roared into the microphone.

A burst of static came through the communicator, followed by Andy's incredibly annoying synthesized voice.

"Hello? I'm moving. What's up?"

Upon hearing that voice, Sisyphus almost burst into tears.

"Help!! Andy! Help!!"

"These lunatics want to turn me into a mushroom!!"

"It's fine if I die, but no one will recognize that 70% profit-sharing contract!"

"Did you hear that?! That's an entire quarter's worth of antibiotic profits!"

"And all my savings! My gold! They're all in this house!"

"If you don't come, all this money will go to these rotten bastards!!"

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

"Block the door."

Andy's voice remained steady, but to Sisyphus it sounded like heavenly music.

"Step back a bit, get away from that vent."

"I'll be right there."

Sisyphus paused for a moment.

Ventilation opening?

He subconsciously looked up at the exhaust grille in the corner of the office ceiling.

It connects to the external acid lake and also to the underground river network.

"Boom!"

A loud bang came from deep inside the ventilation duct.

This was followed by the sound of metal being violently torn apart.

"crunch-"

A ventilation opening nearly a meter wide was suddenly ripped off by a giant mechanical arm.

It fell to the ground along with the surrounding cement blocks.

Andy's signature expressionless metal head peeked out from the hole.

He was covered in acid and carrying a chainsaw covered in a suspicious purple liquid.

"Long time no see, partner."

Andy looked at Sisyphus, who was trembling behind the table, and the group of Nurgle cultists trying to squeeze in outside the door.

The electronic eye flashed once.

"Oh dear, the XinYa Space has arrived."

Sisyphus: "Huh??"

"Oh, I mean, it seems you're going a bit overboard with your employee benefits."

"These guys are ecstatic."

Chapter 42 Running away

Andy's heavy hydraulic legs slammed down on the floor, shattering the expensive solid wood floorboards.

A Nurgle follower, who had reached his hand in, was still grinning foolishly, muttering some crazy nonsense about sharing body temperature.

Andy didn't stand on ceremony and directly reached out his mechanical hand, still covered in acid, and grabbed the guy's wrist, which was covered in pustules.

The hydraulic pump is humming.

"Pfft-"

A tearing sound that made your teeth ache.

Andy ripped the Nurgle follower's arm off his shoulder.

There was no gushing blood from the cut, only a thick, yellowish-green liquid flowing out like a tap that had been turned on.

The guy paused for a moment, looking at his bare shoulder, not even feeling any pain yet.

Andy raised his foot and kicked him in the chest.

The immense kinetic energy sent the 100-pound mangled flesh flying, knocking over several other lunatics huddled together in the back corridor.

The entrance area has been temporarily cleared.

Andy turned around and looked at Sisyphus, who was still huddled under the table.

"Where's the money?"

Andy's voice was completely flat.

"You're about to run away, don't tell me you haven't prepared the travel expenses."

Sisyphus crawled out from under the table, trembling, and pointed to a huge safe in the corner of the office.

"There...they're all in there!"

"Gold bars, and anonymous high-value credit chips, are all inside!"

Andy strode over.

He stretched out his finger and drilled it directly into the lock cylinder.

Sparks flew everywhere.

A few seconds later, the heavy cabinet door popped open.

Inside, dozens of gold bars were neatly stacked, along with several file folders stuffed full.

Sisyphus lunged forward, grabbed the file folders, and began stuffing them into his backpack.

While stuffing the food in, he kept muttering to himself:

"My ledgers...my secret stash of money...my retirement savings..."

Andy looked at the heavy gold bars.

This material has a high density and takes up little space, making it an excellent material for manufacturing certain precision circuit contacts; it is also a form of hard currency.

But he was too lazy to pick them one by one.

It would be too time-consuming, and the current situation doesn't allow him to pack the bags slowly.

Andy slammed the safe door shut and then grabbed both sides of it with his arms.

"rise!"

The hydraulic system is operating at full power.

Andy carried the solid steel cabinet, which weighed at least half a ton, directly on his shoulder.

Sisyphus slung his bag over his shoulder, turned around, and nearly popped his eyes out.

Good heavens, they even took the cabinet?!

"go!"

Andy carried the safe with one hand and pulled out the chainsaw with the other.

"Stay close to me, or I'll leave you here as fertilizer."

The two rushed out of the office.

The scene in the corridor was like a painting of hell.

The walls and ceiling were covered with writhing fleshy blankets. The guy Andy had just kicked away was lying on the ground, the rotten flesh in his wounds rapidly multiplying.

More bird-beak doctors flocked in from all directions.

Some of them held scalpels, others held syringes, and their faces wore that chillingly benevolent smile.

"Boss... don't go..."