Warhammer: Become a Saint Starting with the Banner of Souls

---

Olek took the list and began to quickly scan its contents from top to bottom.

At first, his expression seemed normal.

1000 tons of refined gold ore, hmm, a minor issue.

1000 tons of ceramic steel billets, fine, no problem.

1000 tons of PVC-U sheets, that's acceptable.

All kinds of mineral resources are fine.

As an explorer sage, his mineral resources are measured in millions of tons.

Even in wartime, providing these mineral resources wouldn't be a problem for him.

Then, he saw the category of weapons and equipment.

There were 5000 bomb guns, and his optical sensor flickered slightly.

The frequency of the flashing of the 3000 hot melt guns increased.

200 sets of Mark 8 precision-engineered power armor.

"Sizzle."

A considerable amount of steam was emitted from its heat dissipation vent.

Power armor is one thing, but Mark VIII? Mark VIII is one thing, but you want a precision-engineered one?

Do you think the precision-engineered Mark 8 is a mass-produced product?

He suppressed the urge to swear and continued reading.

Then he saw the servants, 2000 of them.

His mechanical hand trembled slightly.

100 Leman Russ main battle tanks and 100 RAND Raider tanks.

His microphone emitted a strange, unintelligible noise.

Then, at that moment, Oric's processor went blank for 1.7 seconds.

His brain seemed to have been forced to restart, freezing all running processes.

Then, slowly, it recovered from the crash.

He looked up at Qin Mo; the red optical sensor was flickering faintly at a frequency that could only be described as dull.

After a long period of silence, his emotional module suddenly produced an emotion called "anger".

Good grief, you've come here to buy your goods?!

O'Leary roared inwardly; he now finally understood how those imperial bureaucrats felt when they received the Mechanicus bill.

So this is what it feels like to be taken advantage of.

In the past, it was always him who made the list for the Empire, and it was always him who demanded exorbitant prices from the planetary governors and Star Guard generals.

"Repair a Titan? Sure, that's the annual output of three hive cities, thanks."

"Build a batch of warships? No problem. Just give me the mining rights to the mineral veins on your satellite, for five hundred years."

He's quoted this price countless times; he's always the one ripping off others.

No one had ever dared to offer him such a price.

However, today, the tables have turned.

He became the one who got slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Jill and Brod, standing not far away, quietly turned their gaze toward the list.

Their eyes swept quickly across each other, then they looked at each other, and Jill's lips twitched slightly.

Broad coughed lightly, pretending to look elsewhere.

But if you look closely, you'll notice that the shoulders of this ancient wolf are trembling slightly.

That's it, don't laugh.

Qin Mo is really ruthless.

But to be fair, haven't those oil enthusiasts ripped them off quite a bit already?

Jill and Brod both silently gave Qin Mo a thumbs up for his shrewd business.

薅。

Rake it in!

Avenge us.

---

Back to Orik's side,

Looking at Orik's picture, although most of it was covered by mechanical parts, you could still see the expression that looked like he had eaten shit.

Everyone present couldn't help but smile.

no way.

Normally, those mechanics from the mechanical cult are ruthless when it comes to ripping people off.

Today, the motor oil guy finally tasted the bitterness of being overcharged.

Qin Mo, the instigator of all this, remained expressionless.

He just looked at Olek calmly, his gaze indifferent.

That indifference made Olek feel more frustrated than any ridicule.

After a moment of silence,

O'Lee finally spoke.

"Lord Raphael, if I may be so bold,"

"Of the supplies you requested, aside from the mechs and some minerals, I have a sufficient quantity. However, I lack the other items."

He paused, as if searching for a reasonable explanation for his next sentence.

"After all, it's wartime now, and a large amount of my supplies need to be deployed to battlefield maintenance, ammunition resupply, and the repair of fortifications."

Each of these tasks requires a significant amount of resources.

"so."

He raised the optical sensor, looking at Qin Mo, trying to find a trace of relaxation in that calm face.

"Could you perhaps adjust the quantities on the list slightly?"

Qin Mo looked at him and said expressionlessly:

"Oh? Is that so? Then never mind."

O'Lee was taken aback.

"After all, I really don't have much time right now to help you craft a storage ring," Qin Mo continued. "I also have a lot of other things to do."

"The offensive of chaos could come at any moment; defenses need to be set up, and morale needs to be boosted."

"There's no rush to create a storage ring."

"We'll talk about it when you've gathered all the supplies."

He shrugged slightly, his manner and tone revealing his true feelings.

It's like they've got you wrapped around their little finger: they've got you figured out.

Anyway, I'm not the one who needs someone's help.

You want spatial storage technology; in the entire empire, only I can build it.

I need supplies; there are plenty of places in the entire galaxy that can provide them.

This deal was never fair from the start.

The initiative is in my hands.

Qin Mo knew very well that this oil guy was saying "not enough quantity," but whether he really didn't have enough or was testing his bottom line and trying to bargain, was unclear.

He knows it perfectly well.

Having lived for thousands of years, this evil cultivator has seen all kinds of bargaining. The old foxes in the cultivation world are a hundred times more cunning than this oily guy.

But the result is the same: in the face of absolute "scarcity", all bargaining is meaningless.

Qin Mo turned around and looked at Creed.

"Lord Creedburg, let's go."

"It's time to boost morale. Our soldiers are fighting valiantly on the front lines, and as the Emperor's messenger, I cannot allow them to feel the protection of the Holy Light."

Creed nodded slightly, his expression well-controlled, showing no sign of schadenfreude.

"Lord Raphael, please follow me."

The two men strode toward the door of the command room.

His steps were unhurried and measured.

---

And behind him, Olek,

Watching the figure in black robes walk further and further away,

His core logic was operating wildly.

They're leaving, they're really leaving. If we don't stop them now, this deal might fall through.

Space storage technology may be gone.

No, absolutely not. The value of this technology far exceeds the supplies on that list.

If his colleagues in other forging worlds knew that he once had the opportunity to obtain spatial storage technology, but gave it up because he couldn't bear to part with the resources, it would be a mistake.

He would then become a laughing stock within the entire Cult of Mechanics.

What the other party provided was space storage technology.

The value of this technology cannot be measured by conventional resources.

If I could monopolize this technology.

From this perspective, this list is expensive.

But it's worth it.

After all, in the entire human empire, only this one person could create such a thing.

Monopoly means the right to speak.

The mechanical engineering school understands this principle better than anyone else.

So, after a brief three-second internal debate, Eulik made his decision.

He accepted the debt.

At worst, we can find our colleagues in other forging worlds to share the cost. After all, spatial storage technology is a coveted treasure for the entire Mechanicus.

It's perfectly reasonable to make others pay a price.