135: Chapter 136 The Veteran's Final Usage Instructions

The countdown in the Primarch Gene Laboratory jumped to zero.

The pressure valve let out a dull hiss of exhaust.

The green life-sustaining fluid in the fourteen cultivation tanks swirled down through the bottom grates until they were empty.

The bulletproof glass covers slowly rose.

Fourteen recruits, each standing over two hundred and forty centimeters tall, stepped down from their metal bases.

They were slightly different from the C-19 batch that had walked out of here seven days ago.

These fourteen individuals were cultivated using gene seeds excavated from the nuclear explosion ruins on the Antarctic Ice Sheet.

At the moment the previous host died, the gene seed not only locked in the biological genetic material but also recorded the most profound neural electrical signals from before the host's death.

The first recruit on the far left didn't reach for the Bolter on the rack; instead, he looked down at his left shoulder—the spot where his predecessor had been vaporized by a Multi-melta during a charge.

Recruit number three flexed his hands, his fingers unconsciously forming a posture as if gripping a door crack and pulling outward.

This was the legacy left by the veterans to the recruits.

Inside the operations pod, Li Cang watched this group of fresh-off-the-line war machines and sent a pre-configured data package for a set of pure black Master-crafted Power Armor to the laboratory's automated outfitting system.

Mechanical servo-arms descended, welding the half-ton black armor directly onto their bodies with rivets.

Li Cang did not assign them a squad leader.

This batch didn't need a Commander for the time being; what they needed was to be immediately deployed into the base's defense network to suppress those system vulnerabilities that hadn't been fully cleared with the crudest physical patrols.

He shifted his gaze to the base's medical area.

Corvin was lying on a medical bed.

This was likely the only true 'hospital bed' in the entire Thunder Warrior Legion.

Two hours ago, Corvin's genetic collapse degree had breached the absolute red line of fifty percent.

Over the past few days, Li Cang had poured all resources into the Astartes, and the production line for the improved stabilizer had been halted for three days.

Once the medicine stopped, the suppressed fibrotic tissue began a vengeful, frenzied growth.

Corvin was now lying on his side at the edge of the bed.

He was vomiting large mouthfuls of black blood clots.

The clots were mixed with lung fibrous tissue that looked like wood shavings, making a clattering sound as they hit the stainless steel basin like hard objects.

Using the medical room's projection equipment, Li Cang projected his holographic image in front of the sickbed.

"Stopping the medicine was my order," Li Cang said, looking at Corvin's skeletal frame on the screen, which looked as though it had been drained dry. "I don't lack the materials for the stabilizer; I just don't want to waste any more time on you."

Corvin used his sleeve to wipe away the black blood from the corner of his mouth.

He felt no anger; even the rhythm of his chest's rise and fall remained unchanged.

"Have those fourteen recruits formed a unit?" Corvin's voice was squeezed from deep within his throat; his vocal cords were almost completely worn out.

"The unit is formed, and their armor is welded on."

Corvin nodded, propping himself up with both hands on the edge of the bed, trying to sit up straighter.

As soon as he applied force with his right arm, his forearm bone let out a crisp snapping sound.

The genetic collapse had caused his bone density to drop to an extremely dangerous critical point.

Corvin glanced at his limp, hanging right arm, his face devoid of expression.

"With this body of mine, I can't go to the Antarctic Ice Sheet, and I can't fight boarding actions anymore," Corvin looked up, his clouded eyes meeting Li Cang's holographic projection. "But I still have a few things in my head about how to kill people."

Li Cang said nothing.

"Commander," Corvin took a heavy breath, black blood seeping from the corner of his mouth again, "give me a new shell."

This was the veteran's last words.

He didn't ask for a pension, nor did he ask for a clean grave.

He wanted to change shells and keep fighting.

In the operations pod, Li Cang pulled up the interface for the civilization forge.

The wreckage of twelve Cyber Federation heavy mechs seized from PVP were thrown into the crucible as the first batch of primary materials.

Next to be thrown in were several low-level life-support system blueprints traded from the Adeptus Mechanicus for scrap.

Finally, Li Cang dragged a Plasma Cannon and a heavy Power Claw from the base's armory.

The flames of the crucible began to roar.

This was a forced assembly that required no blueprints.

The precision mechs of the Cyber era were dismantled into their most primitive alloy skeletons.

The Mechanicus life-support systems were crudely modified into an amniotic tank that could hold half of a broken human body.

Then, the heavy firepower of Warhammer was welded directly onto both sides of the skeleton.

Fifteen minutes later.

A creation nearly four meters tall, devoid of any streamlined aesthetic and looking like a mobile iron coffin, appeared in the system warehouse.

Li Cang materialized it in the open space of the medical room.

A medical Servitor glided over, using a laser scalpel to cut through Corvin's limbs.

This was not an amputation surgery.

This was to fit Corvin's remaining torso and head into that extremely narrow life-support tank.

Corvin was given no anesthesia; he watched clearly as his hands and feet were severed.

The Servitor stuffed the half-man, half-stump Corvin into the life-support tank in the center of the iron coffin, and a large amount of nutrient-rich amniotic fluid instantly submerged him.

Over a dozen thick neural interface tubes pierced directly through his spine and the back of his head.

The amniotic fluid was dyed a murky dark red by the gushing blood.

The armor plates on the exterior of the mech were completely welded shut amidst the ear-piercing sound of grinding gears.

Corvin's fleshly body died.

But an armored unit named 'Dreadnought' was activated.

An eerie green optical probe lit up in the observation window at the front of the iron coffin.

Heavy metal treads crushed the tiles of the medical room.

The four-meter-tall steel beast turned, and the barrel of the Plasma Cannon rose slightly.

"Weapon self-check complete," Corvin's voice came from the Dreadnought's external speakers, colder and more metallic than before. "First Legion Tactical Instructor Corvin, requesting to rejoin the unit."