Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Andy projected the map in holographic mode, and the energy reading of the red dot was incredibly tempting.

It is a backup geothermal hub for Furnace-7, originally intended as a core node to provide industrial steam and electricity to the entire bottom nest.

Once they take control of the area, they'll have more than enough energy, let alone a few bioreactors. They could even build a fully automated Titan production line in the Bottom Nest if Andy wanted to.

But the "extremely dangerous" red skull marker given by STC calmed Andy down.

Gamma-9.

Andy pointed to the red dot, and the red laser beam pierced through the translucent map projection, illuminating Gamma-9's face, which was filled with piety.

"Whose territory is this?"

Gamma-9 looked in the direction Andy was pointing, and the aperture in its single eye suddenly contracted.

He seemed to have a kind of inexplicable awe towards that place.

"My sage, that is a 'deep pit'."

Gamma-9 lowered his voice, as if afraid of disturbing something underground.

"That is the sacred ground of the Ascension Mining Alliance."

"The Ascendant Mining Alliance?" Andy repeated the name; it sounded like a legitimate union organization.

"Yes, they are a group of... very hardworking miners."

Gamma-9's tone carried a hint of envy; as a priest of the Mechanic Church, he greatly admired this tireless labor force.

"They worship a deity known as the 'Four-Armed Emperor'."

"It is said that the god-emperor had four strong arms, symbolizing the ultimate labor efficiency."

"Those miners were all bald, with healthy purplish-red skin. They never rested, never complained, and some of the foremen who were favored by the gods even grew a third or even a fourth hand in order to better serve the God-King."

"Their digging efficiency is ten times that of ours. The Governor's Office once wanted to send tax collectors to collect taxes, but those tax collectors were moved after they went in and never came out again."

As Andy listened, he felt something was off.

and many more.

Bald, purplish-red skin, four hands, a perfect laborer who never complains...

In addition, there's that name, "Four-Armed God Emperor".

Andy suddenly looked up and stared intently at the red dot on the map.

Good heavens, what a sly fox!

And the hardworking miners' union?

This is a den of pure gene-stealing cults!

Why are there so many familiar faces everywhere?!

In this malevolent universe, if you find that your neighbors suddenly become unusually united, exceptionally hardworking, and love having children, and that the children they have are somewhat strange-looking, then you'd better move out immediately, or choose to call in orbital bombardment.

Genestealers are the vanguard infiltration units of the Terran Zerg.

They infiltrate human society and infect humans through a method known as "gene kiss," implanting alien genes into the victims' bodies.

The victims would give birth to mixed-race offspring, who would become more and more human-like with each generation, until they infiltrated the upper echelons of society.

These guys will establish a huge underground cult, frantically mining and hoarding resources while secretly sabotaging the planet's defense systems.

When the time is right, they will send psionic signals into the depths of the universe.

What will come then will not be some four-armed god-emperor.

Instead, it was a massive, overwhelming Tyranid hive fleet.

They will devour every single gram of organic matter on this planet, including the devout believers.

Andy felt a chill run down his spine. What kind of auspicious place was this Forge-7 that he was in?

On the surface, there's a useless governor who only knows how to throw lavish parties; in the middle layer, there's a gang of lunatics whose minds are filled with nothing but killing and skinning; and then there are the Chaos Believers hiding somewhere.

Now look what's happened; there's a whole bunch of traitors hiding underground, ready to pack up the planet and hand it over to the Zerg swarm.

The only reason this place has survived until now without exploding is because these idiots haven't communicated with each other.

Andy immediately marked the "storm the geothermal hub" option with a big red cross in his mind.

What a joke.

Now he's a somewhat fierce engineering marvel, armed with only a few dozen broken guns and a few hundred malnourished refugees.

If you really went deep underground and faced thousands of gene stealers with sharp claws, agile movements, and possibly even psionic lightning, wouldn't that be like delivering takeout to them?

With its cunning claws, it can slice through Terminator power armor like butter, and cutting through Andy's engineering armor is child's play.

A complete overhaul is necessary.

Let's forget about that backup geothermal hub for now; we can deal with it when we have tanks and heavy artillery.

The most urgent task now is to address the power grid in the shelter, which could collapse at any moment.

"Except for this bunch of four-armed freaks."

Andy zoomed out on the map and pointed to the area surrounding the shelter.

"Who else in this area has electricity?"

Gamma-9 thought for a moment, then the robotic arm pointed in another direction on the map.

"Let me think... Look here, the abandoned industrial zone number 42 next door."

"That's Rust Brotherhood territory."

"They were a group of vagrants expelled from various gangs, and a traitorous tech priest who was expelled from the Cult of Mechanics for various reasons."

"They occupied an old-fashioned fission power station."

"Although the reactor core of that power plant is already very unstable and the cooling pool is almost completely leaking, it can still generate electricity as long as fuel rods are added."

Gamma-9 paused here, his tone becoming somewhat gloating.

"But I heard they've been having a tough time lately."

"The fungal farm in that neighborhood has withered, and they can't beat the skinners, so many people have started eating rats and cockroaches."

Andy's electronic eye flashed.

Food shortages are mitigated by electricity; it's like a pillow delivered just when you're about to fall asleep.

Andy glanced back at the three bioreactors in the center of the hall, which were operating at full power.

The first batch of high-yield starch balls has just come out of the pot and is being piled on the iron rack next to it to cool down.

That's a full two tons of high-calorie food.

In this desolate place where starvation was rampant, food was the hardest form of currency, more precious than gold and more persuasive than a bomb gun.

Andy could easily use these starch balls to exchange for access to that power plant, or even directly acquire the so-called "Rust Brotherhood" through trade; it's not entirely impossible.

Of course, in places like the bottom of the nest where there is no law, trade often requires a bit of force as a backing.

Gamma-9.

Andy stood up, and the sound of metal joints grinding together made Gamma-9 straighten its back immediately.

"Get the vehicle ready, drive that half-track truck over here, and empty the back of the bed."

"Find a decent container and fill it with a ton of starch balls."

"Call all a dozen or so of your armed guards and tell them to dress smartly, so they don't look like a bunch of beggars."

As Andy spoke, he walked toward the worktable in the corner.

There lay a twin-mounted heavy logging rifle that he had just dug out of the scrap heap yesterday and spent the whole night repairing.

This thing was originally planned to be installed on an anti-aircraft turret, with two thick gun barrels exuding a cold killing intent.

Andy picked up the gun with one hand and weighed it in his hand.

It weighs about 80 kilograms.

For an ordinary person, this is a heavy weapon that requires two people to carry; for Andy, it's just a slightly larger rifle.

He slung two boxes of large-caliber ammunition belts over his shoulder, the golden bullets gleaming under the light.

"We're going to visit our neighbors."

Andy's voice was calm yet powerful.

"If they're willing to talk, we'll take them out to dinner."

"If they're not willing to talk..."

Andy pulled the bolt of the heavy logging gun, and a loud metallic clang echoed through the hall.

"Snap—!!!"