134: Chapter 134 I will abide by these rules here.

The air circulation system of the underground bunker emitted a dull hum, stirring up the stale smell of machine oil and making it even thicker.

Chen Mo stood before the silent production line, his fingertips tracing the cold, hard console.

The dust was wiped away, revealing the dull metallic luster beneath.

The Priest was like a mouse that had fallen into a rice bin, circling the unpainted prototype of the Ghost drone for the third time. The cigar in his mouth had long since gone out, but he had forgotten to light it.

"If this thing were loaded with live ammunition," the Priest patted the pylon under the wing, his voice trembling slightly.

"That bunch of troopers at the Midland Police Department wouldn't even be qualified to wipe its wheels. McLean, that madman, is he trying to stage a coup in Texas?"

"Whether he wants to or not doesn't matter. What matters is that he is dead."

Chen Mo pulled the [Military Industrial Production Line Blueprint] that glowed with a purple light from his pocket.

To outsiders, it was nothing more than a black USB drive, but on Chen Mo's retina, it was breaking down into countless streams of golden data, madly pouring into the control terminal in front of him.

The screen lit up.

The previously dead mechanical arm suddenly moved, and the pressure valve let out a soft hiss, as if this slumbering steel beast had yawned.

"Ava," Chen Mo said without turning his head, "notify Finance. I want to dump all two hundred million dollars we raided from Lone Star Energy into this place. Raw materials, chips, gunpowder—the Priest's channels are responsible for supply. Buy whatever is missing."

Ava was leaning against the lead door recording data; her pen tip paused. "All of it? Then our liquid assets on Wall Street..."

"This is the root." Chen Mo turned around, his feet clattering on the steel grating.

"Money on Wall Street is just numbers. Only when it turns into bullets and production lines does it become a truth that no one dares to deny."

He brought up the system interface.

The golden [Energy Tycoon] entry was floating in the center of his vision, emitting a seductive halo.

And beside it, [Asset Halo] was trembling slightly, as if yearning for some kind of combination.

"Merge." Chen Mo whispered in his heart.

Fifty thousand experience points were instantly cleared.

There were no earth-shattering special effects. Chen Mo only felt his heart contract sharply, and then, a strange sense of pulsation spread along the ground beneath his feet.

He closed his eyes, as if he could "see" every steel bar and every circuit in this abandoned copper mine, and could even perceive the breathing frequency of the soldiers patrolling above ground.

[Ding! Fusion successful.]

[Obtained Lord-level trait: Cornerstone of Empire (Passive)]

[Effect 1: Absolute Territorial Defense. Within the scope of the host's properties, the defense of all friendly units is increased by 30%, and pain sensation is reduced by 20%.]

[Effect 2: Ideological Imprint. For all combat units receiving the host's salary, loyalty is forcibly locked at no less than 60% (passing grade). The probability of betrayal approaches zero infinitely as salary and benefits increase.]

Chen Mo opened his eyes, a flash of dim golden light flickering deep within his pupils.

This is the foundation of a warlord's confidence.

Above ground, those sixty-plus veterans who had crawled out of piles of dead bodies were assembling.

They were originally just mercenaries selling their lives for dollars, their eyes filled with slickness and calculation.

But at this moment, as Chen Mo stepped out of the elevator and stood on the high platform overlooking them, that scattered aura changed.

"From today on, you are no longer security guards working for money."

Chen Mo's voice was not loud, but it drilled precisely into everyone's ears through the loudspeaker.

He casually picked up a newly assembled HK416 from a box nearby and pulled the bolt; the crisp sound of chambering echoed across the open space.

"You are the First Field Regiment of Legacy Defense. From now on, every inch of land here, every barrel of oil, is your pension. If someone wants to take it, what do you do?"

"Kill!"

Sixty-plus men roared with the momentum of six thousand.

The greed in their eyes was replaced by a fanatical sense of belonging.

This was the power of [Ideological Imprint]; money combined with system rules turned this pack of wild dogs into domesticated ones.

Nightingale—or rather, Elizabeth—walked out of the adjacent quarantine zone wearing a white lab coat.

She had just finished "spring cleaning" the virus laboratory on the third underground level.

Those disgusting cages had been dismantled and replaced by rows of server cabinets flickering with blue light.

"The data for Unit-734 has been completely backed up offline." Elizabeth took off her rubber gloves; her hands remained fair, showing no signs that she had just handled dozens of mutated corpses.

"I've converted this place into an intelligence center. Also, I left a small portion of samples in the lab's cold storage; they might come in handy later."

Chen Mo glanced at her and did not object.

A Gulfstream G550 landed on the runway overhead.

The cabin door opened, and that familiar figure stepped down, carrying an old briefcase.

Old George was still his disheveled self, wearing a wrinkled trench coat. As soon as he got off the plane, he was hit by the Texas heatwave and started coughing.

But when his murky old eyes swept across this base, they were startlingly bright.

"Is this the new home you mentioned?" Old George kicked a piece of ore at his feet. "It's much more spacious than that basement in New York. But I heard a lot of people died down here?"

"Places with many dead people are the cleanest." Chen Mo handed him a bottle of water.

"I don't trust leaving things in New York to Richie, and the laboratory here needs a caretaker. George, help me keep an eye on things. Some things are more dangerous than corpses."

Old George unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp. His gaze fell on the veterans training mechs in the distance, then looked at the fanatical-eyed Priest beside him.

"A madman, a butcher, and you, the grim reaper who specializes in collecting corpses." Old George grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Young people these days really play for high stakes. Fine, this old bag of bones will accompany you in your madness for a few more years."

Chen Mo smiled. He turned around and looked at the base that was awakening amidst a roar.

In the distance, the pump jacks of the oil wells were bobbing tirelessly up and down; every nod meant thousands of dollars in revenue.

Underground, the production lines of the arsenal were churning out lethal weapons. Beside him were the most loyal army and the top-tier intelligence network.

In New York, he was just a rat struggling to survive in the cracks, wearing various disguises to cheat and scrounge for food.

But here, on this lawless red land, he stood tall for the first time.

Here, he didn't need to look at anyone's face, nor did he need to obey anyone's laws.