17: The first thing to do after becoming rich is to prepare for the funeral.

[PVP Tactical Simulation Settlement Complete]

[Victor: Imperium of Man]

The smoke and ruins on the holotable disintegrated like sand art scattered by the wind, rapidly collapsing into countless streams of green code before finally vanishing into nothingness.

The preparation hall was deathly silent, save for the hum of electric currents.

Li Cang yanked the neural link cable from the back of his neck, his movements as rough as if he were tearing out a life-sustaining oxygen tube.

He gasped for breath, greedily swallowing the air tinged with the faint smell of ozone inside the holochamber, his chest heaving violently with each painful sting in his lungs.

In the lower right corner of his retina, that crimson countdown finally ceased its suffocating flicker.

[Remaining Life Support Time: 48:00:00]

He didn't collapse into the chair to savor this brief moment of peace.

In the center of his vision, windows from the [civilization forge] interface flooded out like a hemorrhage. The card icon representing the [Thunder Warrior Legion] was flashing a dangerous red light frantically, each pulse seeming to drip blood.

[Critical Warning: Card Durability has fallen below 40%.]

[Biological Alert: Large-scale genetic collapse reaction detected. Major muscle groups dissolving, nervous system overloaded, cellular telomeres completely worn.]

[System Suggestion: Immediately invest 2500 GP for deep biological maintenance and armor reforging.]

"2500 points..."

Li Cang looked at the blazing 7000 GP in his account balance, a cold sneer curling his lips.

If he were an ordinary farming-style player, he would undoubtedly choose to repair without hesitation at this moment.

After all, this was an ace force that had just defeated the gatekeeper, the only sharp sword in his hand.

But in the logic of Warhammer, repairing broken junk is a choice only cowards make.

Li Cang reinserted the link cable into the back of his neck, enduring the excruciating pain like steel needles piercing his brain marrow as the neural connection was made. His consciousness instantly plunged, reaching the deepest depths of the [civilization forge]... [Simulation Epoch: M2 Gene Cathedral Ruins]

The scene cut in.

The camera didn't show a grand panoramic view but pushed directly into a suffocating close-up.

It was a hand.

A hand covered in scars and black blood vessels, gripping the edge of a stainless steel operating table with a deathly force.

The special alloy surface emitted a teeth-grating sound of distortion under the terrifying grip, leaving deep finger imprints.

Arik Taranis sat under the dim surgical light, his upper body bare.

He didn't look like a victor, more like a stitched-together corpse just dragged from the morgue.

The crude servo interfaces of the Mk I power armor were already embedded in his flesh. The wounds weren't bleeding, only oozing a foul-smelling yellow tissue fluid.

His skin was like porcelain shattered and glued back together, covered in fine cracks—the result of muscles over-inflating and tearing the epidermis.

"Ugh..."

A muffled groan, suppressed to the extreme, rumbled from deep in his throat.

Several Gene-Thralls in blood-stained white coats, their eyes dull, surrounded him.

These living tools, with their frontal lobes removed and only medical skills retained, were clumsily thrusting thick industrial syringes into Arik's spine, pumping in high-concentration sedatives and biological colloids.

"Metabolic rate... 320%."

The monitor emitted a piercing beep.

A thrall reported mechanically, his voice devoid of any inflection: "Cells are undergoing autophagy. If combat intensity is maintained, the subject's internal organs are projected to liquefy within 48 hours."

Arik suddenly lifted his head.

In that crimson cyclopean eye, the pupil had dilated to its limit.

It was the beast deep within his genes roaring. The implanted thirst for killing had not subsided with the end of the battle; instead, it grew more violent under the suppression of the drugs.

He stared into the void as if looking at some non-existent deity.

"For... unification."

His voice was hoarse, tinged with bloody foam... [Holochamber Perspective]

Li Cang watched this scene, his gaze as cold and stern as granite.

This was the Thunder Warriors.

Were they strong? Absurdly so. Tearing apart mechs bare-handed, withstanding bolt shells with their flesh.

Could they be used? Not for long.

They were the hasty product of Gene Alchemy, the "disposable tools" the Emperor created to unify Terra.

Their genetic chains were unstable from the moment of birth, like a racing car stripped of its braking system in pursuit of ultimate speed—its destination was only destruction.

"Invest 2500 points to repair a part destined to be scrapped? I don't make losing deals like that."

Li Cang's fingers flew across the control console, making a gambler's decision.

He was going to upgrade.

He was going to pour this money, earned with his life, into that bottomless pit representing the ultimate dream of human genetic engineering.

His gaze bypassed the dazzling array of conventional technologies. Li Cang directly clicked on the very top of [Bioengineering].

There, deep in the fog, a golden node, radiant like the sun, waited silently to be awakened.

[Astartes Project].

[Node: Astartes Project (Pre-research Phase)]

[Description: A super-soldier program based on the nineteenth genetic modification surgery. They possess more stable gene-seeds, more complete organ implants, and—eternal loyalty and lifespan. They are not expendables; they are the cornerstone of the Imperium.]

[Prerequisites:

[Gene Alchemy Lv.3] (Satisfied)

[Primarch Genetic Data Fragments] (Missing)

[Black Carapace Technology] (Missing)

[Gene-seed Vault] (Missing)]

[Research Requirement: 5000 GP (Pre-research activation only).]

"5000 points..."

Li Cang's pupils contracted slightly.

This was almost more than half of his entire fortune. And this was just "pre-research."

A long time and vast resources would still be needed before the first true Space Marine walked out of the cultivation vat.

This was a high-stakes gamble.

If the Astartes couldn't become combat-effective before the Thunder Warriors completely collapsed, his Imperium would face a combat power gap and then be devoured, bones and all, by this brutal ladder competition.

But Li Cang didn't hesitate.

Because he knew that the Thunder Warriors could help him conquer Terra, but only the Astartes could help him conquer the galaxy.

"All in."

His finger pressed down heavily.

"Activate [Astartes Project] pre-research."

[Command Confirmed.]

[Funds Deducted.]

[Establishing Gene-seed Vault... Analyzing Primarch Data Residue...]

On the tech tree, that golden node suddenly lit up. Countless complex data streams cascaded down like a waterfall. Though it was just a faint spark, it was the potential for a future wildfire.

"2000 points left."

Li Cang shifted his gaze back to the group of battered Thunder Warriors.

Since he had decided on the elite route, he could no longer let them march to their deaths in those mobile coffins.

The Mk I Thunder Armor was a joke. Not fully sealed, with terrible heat dissipation and immense noise, it was useless except for physically tanking damage. Against poison gas, radiation, or the upcoming high-altitude environments, it was just a tin can.

He clicked on the [Physics] branch.

[Node: power armor Mk II (Crusade Armour)]

[Description: The Imperium of Man's first fully sealed power armor. Built-in independent life support system, annular heat dissipation structure, joint flexibility increased by 30%. Designed to conquer the stars, it can adapt to vacuum and extreme environments.]

[Research Requirement: 1000 GP.]

[Deployment Cost: 1000 GP (First batch of 30 suits).]

Exactly 2000 points.

Not a single point left.

"Upgrade."

...[Simulation Epoch: M2 Imperial Palace Underground Armory]

Giant mechanical arms danced amidst sparks, emitting heavy industrial roars.

The originally crude, barbaric Mk I production lines were demolished. In their place stood more precise, automated assembly stations with a strong industrial-religious aesthetic.

Arik Taranis stood on the dressing platform, his wounds already covered with biological colloid.

He looked at the new suit of armor before him.

It was no longer a crude patchwork of gray iron. It had a complete servo system, a fully sealed Snarling Helmet, and the iconic layered annular leg armor.

Every rivet, every plate of ceramite, exuded a cold, lethal aesthetic.

"This is... new equipment?"

Arik reached out and touched the cold armored surface. His fingertips felt a faint vibration—the built-in reactor operating smoothly.

"Yes, Legion Master."

In his mind, the voice belonging to the "Creator" sounded, cold and authoritative.

"Mk II Crusade Pattern. It will allow you to fight in vacuum, deep sea, poison gas, even intense radiation. It won't cook you alive like the Mk I. Put it on."

"We have new prey."

Arik didn't hesitate at all.

Servo-mechanical arms locked the heavy chest plate onto his torso with a crisp sound. Then came the shoulder guards, arm guards, leg guards... The airlock seals closed.

"Hiss—"

With a light sound, the life support system activated. For the first time, Arik felt that breathing could be such a smooth, cool experience.

The hellish high temperature that had been tormenting him was gone.

He clenched his fist. The power glove provided precise feedback without the slightest lag.

"Target?"

Arik's voice transmitted through the new high-fidelity comms channel, no longer carrying that grating electrical static. It was low, clear, and exuded an aura of inherent authority.

A holographic map unfolded before him.

A red zone, deep in the Caucasus Mountains, shrouded in dense fog, blizzards, and surrounded by genetic monsters, was marked.

The terrain was treacherous, easy to defend and hard to attack—a forbidden land for countless warlords.

[Nadvak (Ethnarchy)].

"A group of Gene-Warlords who survived from the Dark Age of Technology are entrenched there."

Li Cang's voice echoed in the comms channel, tinged with a predator's greed.

"They possess an ancient genetic recombination technology called 'Ur-Khasis.' It's the most crucial piece of the Astartes Project puzzle."

"The Thunder Legion needs no prisoners, no resources, and no mercy."

"I want only one thing."

"I want their technology, as the breeding ground for the birth of the Astartes."

*Click.*

Arik chambered a round in his brand-new Bolter. Beneath the Snarling Helmet, his eyes blazed with red light, projecting two beams of tangible killing intent through the tactical lenses.

"For unification."

"For... the future."

...[Holochamber Perspective]

Li Cang looked at the thirty fully equipped "Crusaders," a satisfied curve forming at the corner of his mouth.

Though the numbers were fewer, though his GP was zero, though he was now so poor he couldn't even pay next month's electricity bill.

This elite squad, clad in Mk II power armor, armed with Bolters, and having undergone genetic stabilization surgery, had undergone a qualitative change in combat power.

"Ready, gene-dealers of the Caucasus?"

Li Cang's finger hovered over the red button representing "Invasion," his eyes flashing with a mad light.

"The first cornerstone of the Imperium shall be paved with your bones."

[Simulation Begins.]