45: Only players who have spent money have the right to talk about "sustainable development".

[Holy Terra - 'archimedes' Hive City - Lower-Level Geothermal Core Control Room]

It was hot here.

Not the sharp, stinging heat of flames directly scorching the skin, but a stifling, oppressive heat, as if the very air had been boiled.

Every breath drawn into the lungs felt like swallowing a mouthful of scalding iron grit.

The massive geothermal turbine unit stood like a mountain forged from adamantium and black iron, towering in the center of an underground cavern several kilometers deep.

Countless transparent, reinforced glass pipes, each over ten meters in diameter, snaked around the unit like the blood vessels of a giant.

Dark red magma surged within them, emitting a heart-palpitating crimson light that illuminated the entire subterranean space like an erupting volcano.

A low, rumbling roar, transmitted through dozens of meters of bedrock, vibrated against everyone's eardrums.

It wasn't just the sound of machinery; it was more like the eternal roar of an ancient deity imprisoned at the planet's core, struggling to break free from the earth's shackles.

C-19 stood on a hovering control platform, his black Mk II power armor reflecting the magma's red glow as if freshly pulled from a pool of blood.

He removed his helmet.

With a hiss as the airtight seal released, a wave of heat instantly washed over his face.

His face, hardened like marble by genetic modification, showed no expression.

Sweat dripped from his sharply defined jaw, turning into a wisp of white steam the moment it hit the searing metal floor.

At his feet lay the corpses of Pan-Pacific Empire technicians.

These Mortals had died gruesome deaths.

Some had their torsos blown apart by bolt shells; others had been cooked alive by the extreme heat.

Their skin had taken on a grayish-white, boiled appearance. Some, even in their final moments, had been trying to pull the core overload lever, hoping to take the invaders with them.

But the First Legion's Bolters were faster and more merciless than their fingers.

C-19 did not look at the corpses.

To him, they were already processed trash.

His gaze was fixed on the massive, still slightly trembling control lever at the center of the console.

It was the reins of this subterranean beast.

"Area control: 100%."

C-19 pressed the communicator at his ear, his voice steady as a flatline, utterly unaffected by the surrounding heat and noise.

"Energy output: stable." "Readings... peaking. Thermal efficiency exceeds tactical manual upper limits."

He didn't need to understand megawatts or heat conversion equations. In his tactical view, there was only one simple, brutal, yet conclusion that would drive any Commander mad:

The energy here was enough to power the First Legion's Bolter production lines at full capacity for ten thousand years. Enough to make a dead city breathe again. Enough to ignite the spark called 'ambition'...

[Holographic Operations Cabin]

Li Cang watched the frantically jumping green numbers on the screen, feeling his adrenaline surge along with them, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

Energy Source Connected: Geothermal Core (Tier 2 - Prehistoric Relic)

Current Energy Surplus: +5000%

Resource Production: +500 GP per hour (Energy Conversion / Industrial Feedback)

Rare Resources Acquired: Hive City Industrial Waste (Massive), Deep-Sea Adamantium Ore

"This is equivalent to... the output of a hundred Mortals working day and night for a year."

Li Cang calculated silently, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement.

Life had been too hard before.

Every bullet had to be counted, every soldier treated as a treasure, even repairing power armor required careful deliberation.

That was survival, not development.

But now, with this energy core, he had finally crossed that brutal threshold called 'primitive accumulation.'

He now held chips in his hand, had confidence, had the capital to make his voice heard in this dark universe.

He looked up, his gaze shifting to another corner of the screen.

There, on a large tactical map, a red beacon was flashing.

The Adeptus Mechanicus' 'Iron Cloud' Ark, unnoticed until now, had left its original hovering position. Like a giant shark that had smelled blood, it now hung silently directly above the Hive City.

Those greedy Martians had noses keener than a dog's.

"Connect me to Archmagos Ul-02," Li Cang ordered, his tone carrying a hint of long-anticipated composure...

[Holographic Communication Interface]

The moment the signal connected, Archmagos Ul-02's face—featureless, composed only of sensor arrays and a vocalizer grille—appeared on the screen.

The background was a bustling data center, with countless Servitors processing vast streams of information.

Even through the screen, Li Cang could sense the other's... undisguised, almost naked, greedy scrutiny.

"Organic..."

The four mechanical tentacles behind Ul-02 twitched restlessly in the air, their sensors seeming to sniff for something delicious.

"Your hive... holds the omnissiah's blessing."

"That heat... those ancient, pure fusion reaction readings... That is a relic from the Dark Age of Technology."

"We can requisition it. For the glory of the omnissiah, such a holy artifact should not be in the hands of... the unbaptized."

This was the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Though technologically advanced, they were also outsiders on Terra, and energy had always been the bottleneck constraining their expansion.

Now, Li Cang held the largest 'power bank' in the entire Pan-Pacific region, like a child walking through a bustling market holding a gold brick.

In the past, Li Cang might have felt fear.

But now, he was the dealer at the gambling table.

"Not requisition, Archmagos. Cooperation."

Li Cang input a command, his tone as hard and unyielding as raw iron.

"I have the STC Key. If you dare try to seize it by force, I will format the data. Not only that, I will detonate the geothermal core, turning this place into a second 'Olympus Mons.'"

Ul-02's electronic eyes suddenly flashed red—a sign his tactical logic module was operating at high speed.

He was assessing. Calculating the casualties of an assault, the probability of data loss, and the possibility of a core meltdown.

A few seconds later, the red light dimmed, replaced by a green light signifying 'calculation complete.'

"Logic loop closed... Risk excessively high."

"Forcible requisition does not align with the principle of maximum efficiency."

"State your terms, Terran."

Li Cang smiled. That smile concealed sharp blades.

He called up a blueprint he had long prepared—something he had eyed on the tech tree for ages but could never afford to buy or build.

[Tier 2 Aerospace Vessel: Armed Transport (Modified)]

"I want a ship," Li Cang's words appeared clearly on the screen, each one weighty as a thousand pounds. "A ship capable of traversing Warp storms and delivering my army to Mars."

"You know I hold the key to the 'Noctis Labyrinth.' But I don't want to send a courier anymore; I want to... deliver it personally."

This was an irresistible temptation. For the Adeptus Mechanicus, Terra was merely a waystation; Mars was the holy land. And the STC data Li Cang held was the key to their return to the holy land and reclaiming their authority.

Ul-02's processor was silent for three seconds. This was for an extremely complex cost-benefit analysis.

"Constructing logic loop..." "Judgment: Transaction approved."

The Archmagos's voice returned to its cold, mechanical, business-like tone.

"There is an unfinished Pan-Pacific Empire flagship skeleton in the hive's upper landing bay. It is a clumsy attempt by them to imitate ancient technology, but its keel is still usable." "We will utilize the hive's industrial waste and geothermal energy to repair and refit it for you. We will install blessed engines and sacred armor." "But the core engine... must be operated by our people. The machine spirit does not trust barbarians."

"Deal," Li Cang agreed readily.

Who piloted the ship wasn't important; what mattered was who the guns on the ship answered to. What mattered was that this ship would carry the First Legion towards the stars...

[Hive City - Upper Industrial District]

With the agreement reached, this Hive City, dormant for millennia, was fully awakened.

If the Pan-Pacific Empire's rule was crude plunder, then the Adeptus Mechanicus' arrival was a grand industrial funeral and rebirth ceremony.

Thousands of Adeptus Mechanicus Servitors descended from the Ark, swarming into every corner of the hive like worker ants. They needed no rest, no food, only a fanatical zeal for work.

Giant industrial furnaces were reignited; geothermal energy was channeled through thick pipelines to various workshops. Wreckage shattered in the war, abandoned metal structures—all were thrown into the furnaces, melted into scorching molten iron, and then cast into thick armor plates.

The air was thick with the pungent scent of incense and machine oil, the unique 'holy breath' of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

C-19 stood at a high vantage point, looking down at the bustling scene below.

In his view, the massive skeleton of the warship was surrounded by countless scaffolds. Red-robed Tech-Priests, as if performing some religious rite, chanted binary prayers while welding armor plates onto the keel with laser welders.

Sparks flew like a grand fireworks display.

Behind him, First Legion warriors were receiving new supplies.

No longer the simplified Bolter rounds that might misfire, but standard-issue munitions stamped with the Martian cog symbol, piled high in crate after crate. Brand-new Chainswords gleamed coldly on weapon racks, each one having undergone the calming and consecration of a machine spirit.

"Is this... the power of the Empire?"

A newly promoted Sergeant, his body fresh from augmentation surgery and still bearing the naivety of a rookie, approached C-19. He looked at the gradually taking shape of the ship's keel, his tone tinged with unconcealed awe. For a child raised in the wasteland, such an industrial miracle was nothing short of divine.

"No."

C-19 shook his head. His deep, cold eyes held no ripple of emotion, only a clear-eyed recognition of reality.

"This is merely a transaction." "The Commander taught us: Power belongs to no one. Power belongs only to those who can wield it." "The Adeptus Mechanicus thinks they are using us to obtain data, thinks we are dependent on them." "But in reality..."

C-19 raised his head, looking up at the sky obscured by chimney smoke, as if seeing through the thick haze to the figure sitting in the holographic cabin.

"...they are merely forging the Emperor's chariot."

...

[Holographic Operations Cabin]

Construction Queue Updated: Starship: Armed Transport (Refitting) Estimated Completion: 72 hours Current GP Growth Rate: +500/hour

Li Cang watched the skyrocketing resources, yet felt no relaxation within.

This was only the first step. Seventy-two hours was but a blink in an interstellar war. He had to use this time to arm his forces to the teeth.

Moreover, at the edge of his vision, the countdown representing the [Survival Season] continued its relentless tick. That 'Unknown Threat' still hung over his head like a sword.

Just moments ago. The system had sent a seemingly minor, yet spine-chilling, alert.

Alert: Detected anomalous biological signals in the 'archimedes' Hive City Underhive. Signal Signature: Unknown / High Energy Level. Signal is rapidly approaching the 'Geothermal Core.'

Li Cang's pupils contracted slightly.

He remembered the Thunder Veteran D-01 who had fallen into the abyss. He also remembered the trail of blood leading into the deep darkness that C-19 had reported earlier.

"The Underhive..."

Li Cang narrowed his eyes, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

That place was the hive's sewer, a cesspool of filth and depravity. It held millennia of accumulated toxic waste, home to forgotten mutants, scavengers, and even older, more terrifying things.

"Some things don't want us to make money this comfortably."

He didn't notify the Adeptus Mechanicus, busy with shipbuilding. Because this was his territory. This was the First Legion's proving ground. If they couldn't even clean out their own basement, how could they talk of conquering the stars?

"C-19."

Li Cang opened the comms, his voice low, carrying an unquestionable command.

"Don't just watch the shipbuilding." "Gather the brothers, bring the newly issued Bolters, and take all those heavy Chainswords." "Go check the basement."

"Biological contamination detected in the lower-level sectors. Whatever it is—mutants, monsters..."

Li Cang paused, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes.

"Go clean it up."