213: Chapter 217 The gun barrel has been found; now let's cover it with mud.

The main power of White Tomb Anchorage No. 3 has completely gone dark.

This massive celestial body, which originally served as a gray transit station in the Federation Inner Ring, has had all its valuable cores removed.

The Astartes marched in a silent line through the shattered corridors.

They left no wounded behind, nor did they take any prisoners.

Only the sound of Servitors dragging heavy metal chains echoed continuously in the deathly silent underground hangar.

The six-kilometer-long crystallized bone skeleton, along with the Micro-gravitational Destruction Vortex Furnace at its forefront, was being held tightly by tens of thousands of high-strength traction cables.

Giant winches in the belly of the Exile Fortress emitted an overwhelmed screeching.

This item, originally an Inner Ring top secret locked behind flawless platinum doors, was like a gutted dead fish, being roughly and forcibly dragged into the underslung hangar that had just been cobbled together and expanded on the fortress.

No dust covers.

No high-precision psychic docking rails.

The energy lines on the surface of the skeleton, which originally flowed with pure blue light, were brutally cut by heavy Servitors and then welded firmly onto the oily reactive armor plate base of the Exile Fortress using high-temperature torches.

Sparks flew, and the high temperature scorched the camouflage paint film on the surface of the skeleton.

To any high-level Federation technical personnel, this scene was no different from throwing a rare divine statue into the deep sewer trench of a slaughterhouse.

Inside the main control cabin, Li Cang's fingers stopped before the console.

On the edge of the holographic radar, the originally calm deep space dark halo layer was undergoing large-scale abnormal bending.

That was not a meteor shower, nor was it a single Cruiser passing by.

Large areas of red spots, like arterial blood from a cut, quickly soaked and spread along the outer ring of the coordinate axes.

The Sub-control Servitor's eye lamps turned to a high-danger deep yellow.

"Warning. At dark zone coordinate G-7, the gravitational repulsion field is being physically disintegrated with high intensity."

"Detected non-standard massive object Warp."

"Matching database... Identified as directly under the Shadow Third Research Array, High Tribunal sequence warships entering the field."

"Estimated quantity: At least one full-strength Star Sector Sanction Battalion."

"Warp convergence countdown: Eleven minutes."

Li Cang looked at the constantly expanding red spots.

Eleven minutes.

For an excellent Federation fleet, this is enough time for them to plow the coordinates where the anchorage is located into molecular dust vaporized in space using Lances.

Irene, who was tied to the observation seat, also saw those red spots.

The hemostatic film on her shoulder had already turned dark.

A trace of desperate, back-surging fanaticism finally seeped into her eyes.

"It's the Judgment Fleet," she rasped.

"You can't drag that vortex furnace away. It doesn't have a main power cabin; with your ship's conventional mounts, you can't even smooth out the initial curvature."

"Drop the cargo and hide in the chaos; perhaps you'll live for a few more hours."

This was the honest truth.

A six-kilometer-long dead-bone heavy cannon, hung crudely under the fortress's belly, was an absolute burden.

Li Cang turned his head and glanced at her.

His gaze was very calm.

Like an intern accountant finding a typo in a ledger.

"You Federation people always like to calculate everything so perfectly."

He withdrew his gaze, and his fingers slid toward the core Remolding Smelting Valve of the main control console.

"But I've never liked spitting out something once it's in my mouth."

"Especially since this is a colossal shotgun that can blow your master's head off."

The command smashed into the main core of the Great Crusade mother furnace in the bottom deck via light waves.

Li Cang had no intention of properly equipping this six-kilometer-long skeleton with any power cabin.

There wasn't enough time.

Even if there were, he didn't want to assemble the weapon according to the instruction manual written by others.

"Cut off the third main and auxiliary fuel tanks of the fortress's lower section."

"Violently pull out all the bottom wiring of the Silent Bell Chamber in Dock No. 4."

"Number One, take men to the bottom deck."

"Take Hommel's brain, which is hanging in the brass tank, along with his main control spine, and connect them directly to the vortex furnace's detonation neurons!"

Irene's mouth, which was still gasping for air, hung half-open, and her face instantly turned as pale as paper.

Even her voice was cracking.

"You're crazy!"

"The Silent Throne remnant is an anti-psychic suppression pole!"

"That vortex furnace needs to be fed with extremely high-purity arcane psychic pressure to achieve fusion ignition!"

"Plugging two sets of extreme attributes that are completely mutually exclusive into each other will cause even your chassis and the fortress to be blown into powder by high-pressure backlash in a single second!"

Li Cang ignored her.

Crazy?

If Warhammer technology hadn't been created by madmen, it would have died out in the disgusting rifts of the Warp long ago.

Mutual conflict is exactly what's needed.

What's needed is unstable destruction.

Inside the bottom deck.

The heavy brass locks were crudely pried open by Servitors.

Hommel's remnant brain, soaking in preservative fluid and already tortured by mutant waste until its eyes were red, was lifted up by Number One with one hand.

It was dripping with blue and red turbid fluid.

There was no cleanroom protection.

Number One stepped over the sparks on the floor and walked to the power supply end of the micro-gravitational vortex furnace, which was still slowly collapsing and rotating.

He roughly pulled out the bundle of sensitive startup nerve axes glowing with a faint blue light from the back of the vortex furnace.

With a slap.

He pressed the brain's base firmly into the large interface hole, which was as thick as a person.

A dozen industrial-grade melta guns nearby fired simultaneously.

The nerve lines and the brain cortex were welded messily but firmly onto the same main beam using high-temperature liquid metal at tens of thousands of degrees.

The rejection reaction came faster than the sky falling.

From the deep dark collapse point at the front of the vortex furnace, countless fine and violent beams of pure white psychic death light suddenly stabbed out.

This was the most instinctive rejection and self-destruction resistance of a noble weapon after suffering foul pollution.

The shockwaves alone crushed several nearby maintenance Servitors who couldn't dodge in time into powder!

But at the same time.

Hommel's remnant brain, which was forcibly being used as an ignition cap, and the entire crude Silent Bell Chamber system connected behind it, began a frantic suppression effort.

Dark purple anti-psychic suppression waves, like viscous black mud, flowed back in along the bone lines.

Two high-level destructive attributes that were absolutely incompatible clashed, strangled, neutralized, and then tore each other apart frantically inside the six-kilometer-long giant skeleton.

Violent vibrations were conducted through the ship's hull.

The outer armor plates of the Exile Fortress emitted painful, cracking and snapping sounds under the heavy pressure.

Li Cang sat in the swaying control chair.

The cheap cigarette in his hand was lit.

"Suppress it. If you can't suppress it, pour in waste until it's dead."

The Great Crusade mother furnace howled.

A whole pool of ten-thousand-year corpse fluid dug out from the incineration pits of Frost Prison No. 4, mixed with toxic fuel, was blasted into the cooling slots of the collision junction like a mudslide.

The white light was stained black.

The collapsing vortex did not explode under the extreme pain of oppression and pollution.

It yielded.

The micro black hole at the front, which was originally only the size of a watermelon, suddenly expanded into a gray-black deep space death-grudge devouring hole with a diameter of over fifty meters amidst the inexplicable strangulation and fusion of those two forces!

The six-kilometer-long, originally jade-white semi-finished skeleton.

At this moment, under the combined force of high temperature, toxic mist, waste, and the intense pressure of the remnant brain, it completely mutated into a thing covered in pitch-black thorns and rough exhaust pipes.

[Dead Silence Tyrant-class · Opposing Grudge Core Giant Star-Piercing Main Cannon].

It hung there, raw and crooked, beneath the belly of the Exile Fortress.

Like a world-ending tusk growing from a giant whale's jaw.

And at this time.

The countdown on the holographic radar hit zero.

In the airspace in front of the Exile Fortress, a massive section of the pitch-black void shattered and fell away without any warning.

One giant battleship after another, shining with flawless white judgment light and with hulls flanked by high-dimensional judgment arrays, squeezed out of the void like the wrath of gods descending from heaven.

The Shadow Third Array High Judgment Fleet.

On the flagship in the center, hundreds of heavy Lances aimed at White Tomb Anchorage No. 3 had completely lit up with a blinding aurora of a certain kill.

They didn't even need to hail.

They were prepared to physically vaporize this defiled anchorage along with the vermin inside.

Irene gritted her teeth, staring at the overwhelming, oppressive firepower on the screen.

"You can't escape."

Li Cang exhaled a cloud of smoke with the taste of cheap tobacco.

He didn't touch the red stealth-retreat switch.

His right hand rested steadily on a new lever that had just been temporarily added to the console, fashioned from thick wire and welding.

Li Cang looked at that arrogant Inner Ring Sanction Fleet.

He gave a cold laugh.

"Who said I was running?"

His arm suddenly exerted force.

He pressed it down hard.

"For those self-important high and mighty lords."

"Watch a loud black firecracker."