48: When you're poor, use tactical infiltration; when you're rich, bomb me!

[Holy Terra - Hive City "archimedes" - Level 4: Primarch Laboratory]

There were no screams here.

Because here, screams were meaningless noise, ruthlessly swallowed by thick soundproof walls and the roar of Servitors.

A hundred transparent life-support pods were lined up neatly, like a silent forest.

Inside the pods floated a hundred naked male subjects.

Most were strong individuals previously screened from refugee camps, or Pan-Pacific soldiers with superior physical fitness captured in the last battle.

Under the dual effects of the proto-gene-seed and Adeptus Mechanicus maturation technology, their bodies were undergoing violent mutations that defied natural laws.

Muscle fibers writhed, tore, and reorganized under the skin like living things, becoming thicker and denser.

Bones emitted creaking sounds as they grew under the catalyst of chemicals; chests were forcibly expanded to accommodate an implanted second heart and a third lung.

"Subject A-078, rejection reaction, heart rate zero."

A mechanical arm lowered indifferently, grabbing the failed subject—who had already stopped breathing and was covered in ulcers—like a prize from a claw machine, and tossed him directly into the incinerator below.

"Subject A-079, implantation successful. Black Carapace fusion rate: 92%."

This was an assembly line.

Not for manufacturing cars, but for manufacturing gods.

C-19 stood on the observation deck, watching the hellish scene below; the gaze behind his visor did not flicker in the slightest.

He was not just a warrior, but also the "Shepherd" of these new bloods.

"Are these the reinforcements we're adding?" the adjutant beside him asked.

"Yes," C-19 replied.

"The Commander issued a 'Full Combat Readiness' order. Even if half of these hundred recruits die on the operating table, the remaining fifty will be enough to change the tide of battle."

As long as they survived and donned their power armor, they would be the Empire's sharpest talons.

As for their lifespan?

As for the pain?

In the face of the impending iron tide, those were costs that could be ignored... [Holographic Operations Cabin - Resource Panel]

Li Cang watched as his original GP balance of 1,300 plummeted instantly to 50, like a floodgate opening.

But he felt no heartache at all.

Transaction completed. Units obtained:

First Legion Astartes (Recruits) x 55.

Current total Legion strength: 123 men.

"One hundred and twenty-three Astartes."

Li Cang looked at the dense black phalanx on the screen; that was his trump card.

He remembered when he had to lead thirty low-health Thunder Warriors with meticulous planning, calculating every single bullet fired.

Back then, it was called "tactical maneuvers when poor," involving ambushes and boarding actions like a rat in the sewers.

But now?

He held over a hundred fully armed Space Marines equipped with standard Bolters and Mk II power armor, backed by a Hive City with infinite energy.

"C-19." His voice carried through the data link with cold decisiveness.

"Don't just guard the inside of the Hive City."

"That is the behavior of a coward."

"Pull the troops out. Establish a defensive line on those mudflats, using the ruins for cover."

"I want those salted fish from the Pan-Pacific to know the meaning of... despair."

... [Hive City Outskirts - Radiation Mudflats]

The rain poured down.

Black acid rain converged into rivers on the muddy flats.

In the distance, the horizon began to vibrate.

It wasn't a slight tremor, but a violent shaking akin to an earthquake.

The main force of the Pan-Pacific Empire had finally arrived.

First to enter view were the overwhelming amphibious landing craft and hovercraft, covering the sea like locusts.

Following closely were six "Deep Sea Calamity" class land cruisers, their massive treads crushing rocks as their elevated muzzles pointed directly at the Hive City.

But the most heart-stopping sight was the behemoth at the center of the fleet.

It was a mobile island. A super-heavy amphibious carrier five hundred meters long and a hundred meters high—the "wrath of leviathan."

Its deck was packed with bombers, and a giant electromagnetic railgun capable of leveling a mountaintop was mounted on its bow.

Countless soldiers in heavy exoskeletons clung to its armor plates like ants.

This was a steel beast left over from the old era, a doomsday spectacle pieced together by the strength of an entire nation.

"For the Lord of the Deep! Crush them!" The roar from the loudspeakers echoed through the sky.

And opposite them, on the open ground at the Hive City's entrance...

There was only a thin, black line.

One hundred and twenty-three Astartes of the First Legion had constructed a layered defensive line, utilizing the industrial ruins and massive sewage pipes on the Hive City's outskirts.

C-19 stood at the very front of the formation. He watched the overwhelming enemy, the data stream on his tactical visor scrolling down like a waterfall.

Enemy count: 20,000+.

Heavy vehicles: 50+.

Threat Assessment: High.

In the past, he would have suggested retreating or seeking a flank.

But now, he heard the will of "God."

"All units, chamber bolt shells." C-19's voice was terrifyingly steady.

Clack—!

One hundred and twenty-three sounds of chambering merged into one—crisp, orderly, and full of killing intent.

"Free Fire Mode: Deactivated."

"Alternating Cover Fire: Activated."

Facing the first surging wave—thousands of fanatical commandos wielding chain-axes and harpoon guns.

C-19 slowly raised his hand, then dropped it heavily.

"Fire!"

Boom boom boom boom boom—!!!

This was no longer semi-automatic fire.

One hundred and twenty-three Bolters simultaneously spat out half-meter-long muzzle flashes.

Dense rocket-propelled shells wove a web of death in the air.

The first row of enemies was like wheat before a harvester, instantly exploding into clouds of blood mist.

The power of the bolt shells was maximized in the dense crowd; every single shot could take the lives of two or three enemies.

The Pan-Pacific's charge was forcibly pushed back by this "wall of fire."

No matter how they roared or charged, two hundred meters from the Astartes' defensive line was an absolute line of death.

Those who crossed the line died.

"This is... the power of destruction."

A recruit murmured to himself as he pulled the trigger, watching the exploding fireworks of flesh before him.

He used to be a refugee who would risk his life for half a piece of moldy bread.

But now, he was pouring out priceless ammunition, harvesting lives like a god.

This feeling intoxicated him. It also instilled in him an even more fanatical worship for the "Emperor" who had bestowed all of this... [Holographic Operations Cabin]

Li Cang watched the ammunition inventory on the resource panel drop rapidly, yet he didn't panic at all.

Because inside the Hive City, the Bolter production line upgraded by the Adeptus Mechanicus was running at full capacity.

Freshly produced, warm bullets were being continuously delivered to the front lines through underground pipes by Adeptus Mechanicus heavy cargo Servitors.

Output > Consumption. This was the charm of industrialization.

"Keep firing, fire to your heart's content."

Li Cang watched the "leviathan" carrier slowly turning around, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

"While your attention is all drawn here..."

"My ship should be just about repaired."

He glanced at the countdown.

Strike Cruiser Completion Countdown: 03:59:59

Four hours.

As long as they held for these four hours.

When the time comes, the roles of hunter and prey will be reversed.