Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming.

Each asteroid and each piece of debris has its own independent gravity generator and life support system. In some places, the gravity is so strong that it can crush a person, and in other places, you have to wear a spacesuit to walk.

Huge pipes and cables, like intestines, are exposed, connecting various areas.

Countless illegally constructed shacks, towers, and even small palaces clung to the surfaces of the asteroids and stone sculptures like barnacles, making the entire port look like a giant interstellar tumor made of garbage and scrap metal.

Neon lights, searchlights, and navigation lights illuminated this empty space as if it were daytime.

Countless spaceships swarmed around it like flies, taking off, landing, docking, and unloading cargo, displaying a savage energy.

"Xiao Liu, contact the control tower."

Andy withdrew his gaze and gave the order.

"Request a berth."

Andy was well aware of the rules of the port of call.

Nominally, this place is under the jurisdiction of the Empire, but there is no imperial administrative body here; in reality, it is a lawless zone.

The area is ruled by seven gang leaders known as the "Grand Dukes".

They divided up territory, established rules, and jointly charged exorbitant protection and mooring fees to passing ships.

As for who you are, where you come from, and what's on your ship, they don't care at all.

As long as you pay, you're the boss.

"Connecting to public channel..." Xiao Liu's voice rang out, "Done."

The next second, an image popped up on the main screen of the bridge.

A bald man with a muscular face and an eye patch was seen in the background, which looked like a messy dispatch room. You could hear shouting and fighting coming from behind him.

"This is the landing port traffic control center. I'm Old Harry."

The bald man had a thick cigar in his mouth and didn't even look directly at the camera.

"New here? I've never seen this model before?"

"Where would you like to park? The outer gravel area? Or the private parking spaces of the dukes?"

"Stop wasting my breath and give me a price."

Andy didn't speak; he turned to look at Sisyphus.

It's better to leave dealing with gangsters to professional drug dealers.

Sisyphus understood immediately, straightened his collar, and walked to the communications station.

“Manager Harry, we are a free merchant ship from the Misty Star Region. We have some local specialties on board and would like to stop by your esteemed location for a rest and to do some small business.”

Sisyphus's face broke into that signature, insincere yet enthusiastic business smile.

“We need a large berth in the middle level area, preferably with an independent loading and unloading platform.”

"As for the price..."

Sisyphus entered a string of numbers on the control panel.

"This is our sincerity."

An electronic draft for two hundred Imperial Gold Coins.

In this era of abundant but devalued credits, real gold coins remain the hard currency.

Bald Harry glanced at the number, and his previously impatient expression instantly changed.

He spat out the cigar from his mouth, his one eye narrowing into a slit.

"Wow, the boss is so generous."

"Mid-level berths, right? No problem!"

"There just happened to be a spot that became available. It was originally for that... never mind that unlucky guy, it's yours now."

"The coordinates for berth B-74 have been sent to you."

"As long as you don't bomb the port or kill my pilots, you can do whatever you want."

The communication was disconnected.

The screen displayed port entry instructions.

“See?” Sisyphus shrugged. “This is our port of call.”

The spaceship began to move slowly.

Under Xiao Liu's precise control, the New Bang avoided the erratic shuttles and floating space debris, and approached the berth located near the shoulder of a giant Imperial stone sculpture.

The closer you get, the stronger the visual impact.

Andy could clearly see that the once solemn and dignified face of the several-kilometer-high imperial stone sculpture had now been covered by various illegal buildings.

Someone opened a bar in the emperor's nostril, and someone built a casino in the emperor's eye socket.

The thick iron chains were covered with clothes drying in the sun and dried meat from some unknown creature.

Such blasphemy against the sacred would be enough to trigger a hundred orbital bombardments in any imperial civilization.

But here, this is life.

Even the priests of the state church opened a branch here, called the "Breath of the Emperor" Cathedral, which specializes in providing last prayers for explorers who are about to enter the expansion area to their deaths, and charges a hefty fee.

Clang—

A loud bang.

The side of the Xinbang rammed into the berth's buffer pad, and a huge mechanical arm extended and locked the hull.

The airtight passage has been successfully connected.

"Docked."

Xiao Liu reported.

"External environment scan... Oxygen content is low, gravity is 0.8G, and radiation index is slightly above the standard. It is recommended that people going out wear a respirator."

Everyone on the bridge breathed a sigh of relief.

The port has the largest black market in the entire expansion area, where contraband is not considered contraband but a hot commodity.

Alien technology is called "Cryogenic Trading" here, and there are specialized traveling merchants who make a living from it.

Not to mention illegal drugs, as long as you can get people high, no one cares what you put in the drug.

Human trafficking is legal here; as long as you have money, you can buy labor from any race, even the Eldar.

Andy felt as if this place was made for him.

He has high-purity antibiotics and ridiculously powerful individual weapons, which are extremely profitable in the port.

More importantly, he needs supplies.

Although the new ship has been repaired, many parts are still barely usable.

He needs more advanced materials, rare alien technology for analysis, and, if possible, he should also consider recruiting more crew members.

The few hundred men he brought, though loyal and reasonably skilled, were, after all, army soldiers and didn't know how to sail.

To truly transform the New Bond into a warship capable of conquering the Halo Sector, it needs professional gunners, especially those scoundrels and outlaws who make a living in the void, and the Port of Descent has no shortage of such people.

"Sisyphus, Roger."

Andy turned around and looked at his two capable assistants.

"Let's rest for two hours, then sort out our shipping manifests, we're about to disembark."

"Go and tell those bumpkins here what real good stuff is."

"By the way..."

Andy's electronic eye flashed.

"Go and find out if there are any unwanted alien technologies or condensation facilities around here."

"I'll accept anything, regardless of race, as long as I don't understand it."

"And star maps of deep space are even more important."

The STC database needs new samples to unlock more technology trees.

And the port of call is a ready-made super channel.

"Understood, boss!"

Chapter 87 Grand Opening

"呲-"

With the sound of air pressure equalizing and depressurization, the heavy, airtight hatch on the side of the Xinbang slowly slid open.

A strong, pungent odor, a mixture of stale engine oil, mold, cheap spices, and the sweat of millions of people crammed together, seeped into the cabin through the open cracks.

Sisyphus stood at the hatch, frowned slightly, then relaxed.

He's a long-time resident of the area, so this taste actually feels quite familiar to him.

He strode out.

Behind him, twenty heavily armed guards filed out.

Their entire bodies were completely encased in the matte black T-9000 heavy exoskeleton, the hydraulic boosters humming softly and rhythmically with each step, and they carried CBS-12 high-explosive crossbows.

The thick crossbow bolts were already strung, their arrowheads gleaming dangerously in the dim light.

Gamma-9 was at the very front of the procession.

The political commissar wore a black overcoat draped over his shoulders, a pistol with explosive charges hanging at his waist, and a single eye coldly surveyed his surroundings.

Berth B-74 is located in the middle level area of ​​the landing port.

As soon as the convoy stepped out of the berth gate, the road ahead was blocked.

There were about two hundred people.

These people were wearing a jumbled mess of makeshift armor; some had chains hanging from their bodies, while others had industrial waste welded onto their bodies as bulletproof vests.

The weapons they carried were a motley collection: shotguns with their barrels sawed off, chainsaw axes, and several others wielding power sledgehammers.

Although they were poorly equipped, they had the advantage of numbers, and every one of them had greed and ferocity written all over their faces.

Any new ship, especially a "fat sheep" like the New Bang, which looks like a lucrative business and doesn't fly the flag of a merchant ronin, will be skinned alive before it even sets foot on the ship.

The leader was a burly man who was over two meters tall.

Half of his face was gone, replaced by a rough iron plate, which looked extremely ferocious.

"Stop."

The burly man with the iron face hoisted the heavy wrench in his hand onto his shoulder and blocked the middle of the road.

"New guy, do you even know the rules?"

Sisyphus stopped in his tracks, a professional smile on his face.

"Brother, we already paid the berthing fee to Old Harry in the control tower when we entered the port."

"Harry?"

The burly man with the iron face spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground.

"Harry, that one-eyed bastard, collects money for docking and controls that void."

He tapped the floor with a wrench, making a clanging sound.

“But this land is under the jurisdiction of our ‘Iron Hook Gang.’ If you want to pass through here, you have to pay a landing tax.”

"besides……"

The burly man's one intact eye stared greedily at the workers behind Sisyphus who were unloading cargo containers from the ship.

"You're carrying so much cargo, you still have to pay goods tax."

"I can see you're not having an easy time either. Here's what we'll do: leave that box of goods, and you can go."

The box he was referring to was a sample box filled with high-purity antibiotics.