80: bill

Kelbor-Hal's mechanical tentacles caught the data stream.

Silence.

Only the hum of rotating cooling fans remained inside the operations cabin.

The cold air from the air conditioning system brushed past Li Cang's cheek, carrying away some of the heat.

The countdown on the screen was still ticking, but Li Cang had stopped looking at it.

Ten seconds.

Kelbor-Hal's three electronic eyes locked onto that data packet in unison.

His mechanical tentacles imported the data stream into his logic core, beginning to parse it at a rate of billions of times per second.

Twenty seconds.

The heat dissipation valves on his back trembled slightly—a signal of a surge in data processing volume.

Thirty seconds.

The heat dissipation valves on Kelbor-Hal's body suddenly snapped open.

White steam erupted from the valves, carrying the pungent smell of engine oil and the burnt odor of high-temperature metal, instantly shrouding his upper body in a mist.

His three electronic eyes began to flash frantically, their frequency increasing from three times per second to ten, then to twenty, until they almost merged into three solid green lines.

"This..."

His voice stuttered. The synthesizer emitted a burst of harsh static.

"This is..."

Another stutter. This one lasted for a full two seconds.

"Perfect data..."

The steam slowly dissipated.

Kelbor-Hal's mechanical tentacles trembled in mid-air. It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear.

It was ecstasy.

"The Holy Helix... the machine spirit is singing..."

Li Cang sat motionless, watching the discomposed Fabricator-General on the screen.

He knew what Kelbor-Hal was seeing.

The Primarch's genetic sequence.

It was the pinnacle of human biology, a masterpiece personally designed by the Emperor.

Every gene fragment had been precisely calculated, and every protein chain existed for a specific function.

The muscle density was thirty times that of a normal human. The nerve conduction speed was fifteen times that of a normal human.

The bone strength could withstand the impact of power armor operating at full power.

More importantly, that fleshly body could carry the energy of the Warp without being corrupted and destroyed like a normal human.

For the Adeptus Mechanicus, this was the ultimate form of 'wetware' they had always dreamed of.

The perfect fusion of flesh and The Machine.

"What do you want?"

Kelbor-Hal's voice changed. That cold arrogance had vanished, replaced by a hurried, greedy, almost uncontrollable longing.

His mechanical tentacles danced wildly in the air, constantly approaching and then retreating from the data packet, a posture reminiscent of a child's struggle when faced with their most desired toy.

"Mars wants all of his data! We want to dissect..."

He paused. The logic core emitted an alarm. That word was too direct.

"No, we want to enshrine him!"

"Not for sale."

Li Cang's voice turned cold.

"He is the Emperor's son, not a lab rat."

Kelbor-Hal's electronic eyes suddenly dimmed for a moment.

That was disappointment.

And anger.

The mechanical tentacles behind him stopped dancing, suspended stiffly in mid-air.

But Li Cang didn't give him a chance to argue.

"However—"

He changed his tone.

"Given Mars' loyalty to the Empire, I can allow you to... 'take a stake'."

He pushed the contract over.

Kelbor-Hal's mechanical tentacles caught the data stream once more.

This time, he didn't remain silent for thirty seconds.

His logic core had already begun running at high speed the moment Li Cang said the words 'take a stake'.

He was reading the contract.

Every clause.

Every word.

Every punctuation mark where a trap might be hidden.

Li Cang leaned back in his chair and waited.

He knew what Kelbor-Hal would discover.

He would find that 'Enshrinement Rights' actually meant Mars would have to foot the bill for all the Primarch's expenses.

He would find that 'Observation Rights' was just an empty shell, because the clause 'excluding sensitive tactical information' could rule out almost all valuable data.

He would find that 'Divine Grace Priority' was just a blank check, as the concept of 'full maturity' was never clearly defined.

He would find that this contract was full of unequal terms.

And then—

"Agreement Article Seven."

Kelbor-Hal's voice rang out again.

This time, the urgency and greed had faded somewhat. He was trying to regain the initiative in the negotiation.

"Mars demands to station 'observers' to follow the Holy Son long-term."

Li Cang's brow twitched slightly.

Old fox.

He really wasn't that easy to fool.

"How many?" he asked.

"Three," Kelbor-Hal replied. His three electronic eyes returned to a steady glow, the frantic flashing having disappeared. "One Archmagos. Two Skitarii elites."

Li Cang remained silent for two seconds.

Three people.

One technical expert, two bodyguards.

On the surface, it was 'observation,' but in reality, it was monitoring.

At a critical moment, they might even become pawns for Mars to directly intervene with the Primarch.

But this was Kelbor-Hal's bottom line.

If he refused, the deal might fall through.

The countdown was still ticking; he didn't have much time left.

"Fine," Li Cang nodded. "But they must obey my tactical command.

Any unauthorized independent action will be considered a betrayal of the Empire."

"Accepted."

Kelbor-Hal didn't hesitate.

"Anything else?" Li Cang asked.

Silence.

Kelbor-Hal's logic core was still running.

Alarms were going off one after another within his internal systems, warning him that this contract was full of unequal terms, that he was being led by the nose by a barbarian from the wasteland, and that he should refuse the deal and wait for a better opportunity.

But those alarms were suppressed by another, more powerful signal.

The omnissiah.

The holy machine spirit.

The perfect helix.

The data was too perfect.

So perfect that a Fabricator-General who had lived for over a thousand years was willing to jump into the trap.

"Calculating... rate of return..."

He murmured in a low voice. That wasn't for Li Cang to hear, but rather his logic core performing the final round of game theory.

Data flowed through his internal network, countless variables were substituted into equations, and countless possibilities were simulated and extrapolated.

"...Incalculable."

"Determination... must execute."

Kelbor-Hal looked up. His three electronic eyes regained their steady, eerie green glow.

"Deal."

"Mars... is willing to bear everything required for the 'Holy Son's' growth."

[Holographic Operations Cabin]

[Contract Active]

[Funds Inflow: Mars Special Appropriation]

[Primarch Maintenance Costs: Transferred]

[One-time Investment: 10,000 GP]

[Additional Resources: Refined Adamantium x 50 tons, Astartes-specific Medical Cabin x 5]

Li Cang looked at the numbers jumping on the screen.

The account balance changed from a glaring red to a stable white. Three digits became five.

GP: 11050.

The countdown stopped flashing.

The red warning box disappeared, replaced by a green safety prompt.

"Phew..."

He let out a long breath.

The clothes on his back were already soaked with cold sweat.

That icy dampness clung to his skin, and as the cold air from the AC blew over him, it brought waves of chill.

A muscle between his shoulder blades was twitching—the price of maintaining that 'relaxed and arrogant' posture for so long.

He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Then he opened his eyes and sat up straight.

His expression had changed.

The previous relaxation and arrogance had vanished.

In its place was a cold, hard focus.

He closed the communication interface.

Kelbor-Hal's figure disappeared.

Only the ship system status diagram of the "sword of truth" remained on the screen.

Li Cang's fingers moved through the air, pulling up the unit construction page.

Killed: 13.

Survived: 9.

Manpower Gap: 13 Astartes.

Funds: Sufficient.

Supplies: Sufficient.

His finger hovered over the 'Production Quantity' input box.

He paused for a second.

Then he typed in a number.

26.

The system popped up a warning box: [Resources will be exhausted within 72 hours. Confirm?]

Li Cang clicked confirm.

The warning box disappeared.

The progress bar on the production page began to fill slowly, moving from 0% toward 1%.

He was no longer that penny-pinching pauper who calculated every single GP.

Mars' money would continue to flow in steadily. Their 'God' was still on his ship. They wouldn't let him go bankrupt.

And he was going to use this money to build a truly full-strength company, armed to the teeth.

Then, leading this steel torrent, he would crush the Pan-Pacific Empire's last hope.

On the screen, the production line status indicator turned from red to green.

Gene Culture Fluid began to flow through transparent pipes, the pale blue liquid carrying a faint fluorescence as it followed a preset path into rows of Incubation Pods.

The first batch of embryos had already entered the accelerated maturation phase.

Li Cang tapped twice on the console, pulling up the strategic map of Terra.

The remnant forces of the Pan-Pacific Empire were marked in the eastern region, those red light points slowly gathering.

He stared at those light points for three seconds.

Then he closed the map.