83: Chapter 83 Lin Qiming's Conducting Debut

On the night the Hammer of Dawn launched its general offensive on the Old Pump Station, Lin Qiming personally issued the order to attack. This was his first time intervening in the tactical command of a player legion with a public identity. Previously, he was more accustomed to adjusting mission reward parameters and modifying patrol schedules from the backend, using algorithms rather than banners to drive this group of immortals. But this time was different—the Old Pump Station was the Iron Tooth Gang's last organized stronghold. Taking it would turn the Hammer of Dawn's sphere of influence in the East District into a complete corridor. More importantly, the deep-level pipeline beneath the Pump Station, marked as an "Abnormal Energy Channel" by Hephaestus, was connected to an Ancient Ones Outpost defense node that was still emitting faint pulse signals in the backend. He needed to confirm the status of that section of the pipeline on-site.

The tactical meeting was held as night began to fall, at the open space beneath the main chamber Anchor of the Outpost. Iron Wall Rebirth spread a structural map of the Pump Station's core area on the ground—it was hand-drawn over two whole days by Nightsong, synthesizing data sent back from three infiltrations by himself and Grey Mist Walker, old maintenance blueprints provided by Old Cole, and the location of a hidden vent accidentally discovered by Iron Stomach during a previous pit jump. The map used three colors to mark different attack routes: red for the frontal advance, blue for flank infiltration, and yellow for the reserves. Iron Wall Rebirth pointed to the central red area, his tone steady: "We enter the Main Pump Room from here. The front will have to endure the heaviest firepower. The remnants of the Iron Tooth Gang are all here; they have at least two shotguns and several improvised explosives. The corridor is only two meters wide with no cover, so casualties are inevitable during the advance."

"Casualties aren't the issue." Grey Mist Walker squatted beside him, her finger sliding along the blue infiltration route. "The key is time. While the frontal advance happens, Dark Blade will lead the infiltration team through the underground maintenance tunnel to the rear of the control room. We'll draw their fire from the front, and the infiltration team will breach the side door of the control room. A pincer attack from both sides—the timing gap is the key." She looked up at Dark Blade, who stood on the periphery of the crowd. "How long will it take you to get into position after the firefight starts?"

"Ten minutes." Dark Blade's voice was as cold and brief as ever.

"I'll give you eight."

"Five minutes."

Grey Mist Walker paused for a moment, then nodded. "Five minutes. The frontal advance starts from the eastern main corridor. Once the firefight breaks out, the maintenance tunnel to the left of the control room is the fastest route. You must be in position by the fifth minute. The signal will be three short gunshots, then we breach the front and side doors simultaneously." She pushed the list of the infiltration team over, which included the two fastest vanguards and a support carrying a demolition device. Dark Blade scanned it, didn't ask for any changes, and said just two words: "Enough."

Rookie One was responsible for commanding the main assault platoon. He lined up six spare magazines for his automatic rifle at his waist—these were Imperial Army surplus he had scavenged piece by piece from scrap heaps; some had bolt jams that required manual clearing, but the ammunition was universal and sufficient. The vanguard group led by Iron Stomach was assigned to the very front, tasked with clearing the enemy's outermost tripwires and simple traps. After hearing the task assignment, Iron Stomach was silent for a moment, then gave a non-standard salute and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Nightsong grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"To die. I'll trigger the tripwires first so those behind me don't step on them." He said this in a calm tone with a serious expression, as if stating an entirely reasonable plan. Nightsong stared at him for three seconds before letting go. "I'm going with you." Iron Stomach shook his head. "No need. Walk behind me and clearly mark the ones I don't trigger. We'll need to update the danger zone map later." He patted the rope tied around his waist—it was tied very securely this time.

When Lin Qiming stepped out of the dispatch room, all the squads were already in position. He wore his Adeptus Mechanicus robes, which had two holes bitten into them by Xiao Haozi, and a metal mask over his face. Standing under the blue halo of the Anchor, he scanned everyone before him. When he spoke, his voice was slightly processed by Hephaestus—low, clear, and devoid of any unnecessary emotion.

"You all know today's objective. I will only say three things. First, there are fewer than twenty Iron Tooth Gang remnants left, but they are fighting like cornered beasts and have shotguns and explosives. Do not underestimate the enemy. Second, the timing for the flank infiltration team must be strictly followed—Iron Wall Rebirth and Grey Mist Walker will hold the front, while Dark Blade breaches from the control room's side door for a pincer attack. Third—" He paused, his gaze falling on Iron Stomach. "Vanguard group, don't all die. Leave a few alive."

Iron Stomach grinned. He felt that the way he was being specially cared for was quite unique.

The signal for the attack was a red flare—a magnesium powder mixture salvaged from workbench scraps, for which Nightsong had made a simple launcher using an old gun barrel and a spring. The red arc of light traced a short parabola in the dim Hive Bottom before exploding, illuminating the ruins of rusted iron and waste rock surrounding the Pump Station. Almost in the same second, Iron Stomach charged through the first line of defense. A tripwire snapped, and a pile of rocks connected to it crashed down from the side wall; he dodged it but was tripped by a second hidden metal wire, rolling twice on the ground before scrambling up to keep running. His right leg was bleeding from two gashes, but he used his knife hilt to smash a pressure mine's trigger plate before shouting back, "This line is safe! All tripwires triggered—I'm going to blow up that explosive pile in the corner now!"

He pulled a homemade smoke canister from his waist—modified from an old tin can and chemical reagent residue with a short fuse but a high enough burning temperature—and threw it with all his might toward the makeshift barricade in front of the control room door. Thick grey-white smoke exploded in the narrow corridor, and the Iron Tooth Gang shooters behind the barricade were choked until they couldn't open their eyes, their gunfire instantly scattering. Almost simultaneously, Rookie One tapped the helmets of the two assaulters beside him, and the three of them leaped from cover like arrows from a bow. One of them was pierced through the left arm by shotgun shrapnel within a few steps of leaping out, groaning as he fell onto the grating. The other two didn't look back—the man who was killed would stand back up by the Anchor in the rear five minutes later and rejoin the battle with another gun.

As Rookie One rushed through the smoking tripwire zone, he saw Iron Stomach squatting in a corner of the barricade, cutting the last tripwire with a dagger. He had two new wounds on his left leg, but his fingers were still steady. Iron Stomach looked up at him and pointed his knife tip toward the control room: "There are three more at the door—one with a shotgun, two with machetes. I just choked the shotgun guy with a smoke canister, so his aim is terrible for now. Veer left when you charge; don't go straight down the middle."

"Copy that." Rookie One tilted his head to confirm Dark Blade's position on the channel. Dark Blade's infiltration team had already approached the control room's side door through the underground maintenance tunnel. A few faint metallic clinks came through the voice channel, followed by Dark Blade's voice: "In position. There are welding marks on the side door, but the old welds are weathered; it can be breached. Awaiting the demolition signal."

Three minutes into the frontal advance, Grey Mist Walker's fire team took over suppression in the middle of the main corridor. Her lasgun power pack had two shots left—not due to a lack of ammunition, but because the charging module of this old Imperial gun scavenged from a scrap heap was aging; after firing a full pack, it would overheat and required manual cooling. She fired the last two shots at the metal trusses of the flank exit, the high heat cutting off the enemy's attempt to flank them, then said into the channel: "Frontal fire is stable. Dark Blade, prepare to breach."

Deep inside the Pump Station, the Iron Tooth Gang leader Bone Crusher crouched in a modified cover behind the control room's iron door, clutching a Cadia-pattern Imitation Shotgun. He heard the intermittent gunfire outside—it wasn't one-sided suppression, but an alternating advance; someone would fall, and someone else would fill in, the interval between each replacement being unnaturally short. He heard the sound of metal prying outside the side door, then voices, footsteps, and a very brief pressing sound, as if someone was sticking something to the iron door. He roared toward the door: "What the hell are you things? Are you human or—"

The door was blown open by a directional charge. The iron door flew off its hinges in one piece, slamming into the instrument panel inside the control room amidst a shower of sparks. Dense smoke poured in, followed by dark shadows. Dark Blade entered through the breach in the side door. His first move wasn't to shoot, but to sidestep a blind shot from Bone Crusher and then slam directly into the arm holding the gun, knocking the shotgun from Bone Crusher's hand. His blade pressed against Bone Crusher's throat, a centimeter below the Adam's apple. The remaining Iron Tooth Gang thugs in the control room were cleared out by Grey Mist Walker's team through the front door—no one fired again, and all resistance ended within a few breaths.

Bone Crusher's left knee knelt on the cold floor of the control room, his hands tied behind his back by Dark Blade. The last thing he saw was Iron Stomach—the madman he had personally seen have his chest shattered by a shotgun, only to appear alive at the door a few minutes later—walking in through the front door, stepping over the smoking remains of a tripwire with a rust-stained short sword in hand. His clothes were covered in blood. His own. He didn't look at Bone Crusher; he was only looking at the pressure gauges in the control room—the monitoring panel for the deep-level water pumps of the Old Pump Station. Beside it was a topographical sketch Nightsong had left for him, showing the structure beneath the pump body.

"Where does that pipe lead?" Iron Stomach asked Bone Crusher, pointing to the circled location on the sketch. Bone Crusher's mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn't speak.

Lin Qiming arrived at the Pump Station control room within ten minutes after the battle ended. He didn't come to inspect the results—Hephaestus had already pushed the real-time battle loss data to his panel: the player side had accumulated over twenty deaths, with Iron Stomach personally contributing a quarter of them; the Iron Tooth Gang remnants were all captured or had surrendered, and the Pump Station core area was fully controlled. He came because there was something in the deep-level pipeline beneath the Pump Station that he needed to confirm personally.

That pressure pipe was marked at the very bottom of the structural map by Nightsong, with a footnote added in Iron Stomach's crooked handwriting: Pipe goes all the way down, there's an echo, very deep. Nightsong re-checked the previous peripheral markings from the sketch and attached a set of readings from a deep scan to the bottom of the report. Hephaestus had analyzed these readings and concluded: they were consistent with the Information-State residual frequency of the Ancient Ones Outpost defense node. After the containment zone accident in Sector B-9, that defense node had only been triggered at two points in time—once when Lin Qiming absorbed the large repeater, and the other when the Deep Rock Workshop was invaded. It shouldn't be appearing beneath the Pump Station.

Lin Qiming squatted in front of the pressure pipe maintenance hatch that Dark Blade had pried open. The pipe was about 1.2 meters in diameter, its inner walls covered in thick black grime. Air surged up from deep within the pipe, carrying that ozone smell he was both familiar with and loathed. He opened the portable data pad on his wrist, and the Information State Perception spectrum jumped slowly on the screen—a faint but regular pulse curve that perfectly matched the frequency of the defense node beneath the Deep Rock Workshop.

"Hephaestus. Analyze this spectrum. Tell me it's not the same thing."

[Spectrum comparison complete. 97% match. Anchor—this is a signal from the same defense node. The pipeline beneath the Pump Station has a physical connection with the Ancient Ones facility in Sector B-9. This means the coverage of the Outpost defense system is much larger than previously estimated, possibly spanning the entire underground of the East District.]

Lin Qiming turned off the data pad and sat on the edge of the maintenance hatch for a moment. The Pump Station control room had been converted into a temporary command post by the players. Iron Wall Rebirth was handing over defensive arrangements to Rookie One, Grey Mist Walker was writing a post-battle equipment loss report, Iron Stomach was squatting in a corner eating Nutrient Paste as the wounds on his left leg healed automatically, and Nightsong was nearby organizing today's danger zone marker updates. Dark Blade leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, his fingers resting on his dagger's hilt. Everyone was doing their own thing.

For the first time, not as a backend operator but as one of them, he walked into the middle of the group and spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but everyone turned their heads.

"The Pump Station has been taken. From now on, the main water source of the East District is under the control of the Hammer of Dawn. The Iron Tooth Gang remnants no longer exist. Extra merit for all players involved in today's attack will be issued after the system settlement. The Construction Department is responsible for repairing the Pump Station's defenses, the Logistics Department will take over water distribution starting tomorrow, and the Exploration Department—" He paused, looking at Iron Stomach and Nightsong, "The things down the pipe are my domain to handle. Exploration permissions are temporarily closed."

Iron Stomach raised his hand. "What's in the pipe under the Pump Station?"

"I'm not sure. I'll look into the uncertain things myself first." After Lin Qiming finished speaking, he turned and walked back into the control room. He stopped for a step as he passed Nightsong and pointed to the deep-level pipeline mark he had circled on the hand-drawn map. "Add a classified label to this map and store it in the guild database. Set the permission to maximum for now."

Nightsong nodded. He didn't ask why. He simply folded the map, tucked it into a waterproof bag, and wrote a date and a line of text on the label: Pump Station Underground Deep Pipeline—Suspected Ancient Ones Facility Connection—Directly Managed by Lord Lin Qiming.

Outside the control room, an old lantern seized from the Iron Tooth Gang hung in the Pump Station's main corridor. Its orange light swayed gently in the breeze, illuminating the words "Hammer of Dawn" that someone had recently scrawled on the wall with charcoal. From its birth, this guild was destined to walk a path that no one had ever taken in the Warhammer universe. And the fall of the Pump Station was just another fresh rut carved by this path into the Hive Bottom.