290: Chapter 291 Green Assembly Line

"If they're built slowly for now, so what? We can just buy them or loot them. Can a living person really be stumped by such a small problem?"

Lin Li leaned back into his spacious command chair.

He opened the battle report summary on the player channel and quickly scanned the latest situation on the front lines.

The situation was fairly stable.

In the southern star sector, the Brotherhood of Steel players were stockpiling ammunition.

These muscle-heads posted on the forums every day, sharpening their weapons, seemingly preparing to clash head-on with the upcoming Chaos fleet.

The progress bar of the Scourge Legion was steadily advancing.

On two desolate mining planets, they were systematically clearing away the pervasive green toxins and corrosive acids left behind by the remaining Tyranids.

The Baby Bus Chamber of Commerce had already embarked on its second voyage.

That merchant ship, with its obvious stitched-together appearance, was sailing fully loaded with goods toward the star system of The Three Great Families.

As for the Galactic Empire Stormtroopers...

These guys had indeed gotten lost in the Warp again; he couldn't even be bothered to fish them out and just let them do as they pleased.

The Astra Militarum player roster of the Hand of God was becoming increasingly full, and the production capacity for standard plasma guns and Power Armor had caught up. With neat formations, they already possessed the embryonic form of elite Imperial Guard, at least not lacking in equipment.

Everything was proceeding methodically.

Lin Li leaned against the back of his chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the armrest.

Suddenly, a group that he had almost forgotten popped into his mind.

"What about those greenskins?"

Lin Li straightened his posture and began to pull up the surveillance footage of the Northern Wasteland.

When the fourth batch of players came online, a greenskin player had appeared.

Furthermore, during the Battle of Coastal City, this kid had somehow ended up in the greenskin settlement of the Northern Wasteland.

Lin Li had originally thought he wouldn't live long.

As a result, this guy managed to hustle his way into becoming the leader of an orc tribe.

Later, when the Tyranids swarmed in, these greenskins also cobbled together some ships made of scrap metal and flew them into space.

Of course, the defense was made of paper, and the firepower was up to fate.

In the space battle against the Tyranid fleet, that greenskin fleet was beaten into space junk at the very first encounter, suffering heavy losses.

Ever since then, Lin Li hadn't paid much attention to this group of greenskins.

Now, with the massive influx of new players, quite a few thrill-seeking players actively chose the greenskin race and marched in mighty numbers northward into the wasteland.

He wondered if these guys had gathered together.

Lin Li pulled up the genetic analysis report submitted by Stone Man Hong.

A complex spiral structure was displayed on the screen.

"Fake greenskins."

When the first greenskin player appeared, Stone Man Hong had already performed slice analysis on the underlying genes.

These greenskin players looked rough with emerald-green skin, huge protruding skulls, and even mouths full of tusks.

But in their underlying genetic logic, they still retained the core human architecture, only with some unknown directed mutations added.

They were not the large muscular mushrooms everywhere in this universe that reproduced by spitting spores; in essence, they were still humans wearing orc skin.

"Let me see what kind of tricks you guys have pulled off in the north."

Lin Li switched to the perspective of the Northern Wasteland.

The image unfolded on the large screen.

The view zoomed in.

Billowing thick smoke obscured the sky of the Northern Wasteland.

Lin Li looked at the screen and was instantly stunned.

He saw a massive, feral city squatting on the wasteland like a steel behemoth.

Towering scrap metal chimneys spat out black and yellow exhaust gas.

Various models of anti-aircraft guns were welded onto the rough metal city walls, and huge gears roared and turned on the outer sides of the walls.

Above the city gate, four blood-red Chinese characters were crookedly written:

Orgrimmar.

Lin Li gasped.

Only then did he remember that some time ago, the first greenskin player had formed a legion composed of greenskins, seemingly called [Extreme Corn].

And with the joining of players, millions of native greenskins were forcibly beaten into submission by violent means and gathered in this city of Orgrimmar.

The sheer magnitude of their numbers made one's scalp tingle.

What was even more absurd was the management style of these players.

Lin Li saw that large swaths of artificially intervened spore farmlands had been cleared on the plains outside the city.

Inside the city, rows of crude yet massive assembly line factories were roaring.

Thousands of short Gretchin were stepping on wooden boxes, miserably assembling parts on the assembly line.

Other greenskins served as flesh-and-blood components on even larger assembly lines.

Lin Li rubbed his eyes, confirming that he hadn't seen wrong.

These players were actually making the native greenskins in the Warhammer Universe screw on bolts!

Meanwhile.

In the center of the city of Orgrimmar, inside a huge fortress welded from scrapped warship armor plates.

A high-level meeting of the Extreme Corn legion was underway.

The council hall was very spacious, but it was also filled with the pungent smell of engine oil and roasted meat.

Several player leaders were sitting around a solid wood long table.

The player [I Think The Emperor Can Stand Up] sat boldly in the steel throne at the head of the table.

His current level had already exceeded level 35.

After surpassing level 30, his body size had experienced explosive growth.

His massive body, nearly three meters tall, was like half an iron tower.

His muscle-knotted arms were thicker than an ordinary person's waist.

His dark green skin was covered in crisscrossing scars.

Just sitting there, he looked like a small hill, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression.

"Brothers."

Emperor Di grabbed a piece of unknown roasted meat from the table, bit off half a jin at once, and spoke unclearly,

"In our territory, which area's native greenskins are still disobedient?"

His voice sounded like muffled thunder, making the iron cups on the table hum.

The player [Hellscream] sitting on the left spat out a mouthful of saliva: "That bunch in the east, seemed to be called something like the Redfire Tribe."

"Those greenskins have holes in their brains. Instead of honestly going into the factory to screw bolts, they actually ran off to fight other player legions for territory. That won't do; isn't this delaying our legion's production capacity?"

As soon as those words fell.

The greenskin player [Luchaser] on the right slammed a palm on the table.

"There are also thorn-heads inside!"

Luchaser complained with a bronze-gong voice,

"Some native Weirdboyz went on strike! They actually refuse to generate electricity using psychic power, and are even plotting to run away collectively! Saying things like we are exploiting the greenskins."

"This can't go on! If these Weirdboyz don't generate electricity, how can our underground ordnance factories run quickly? If we can't make weapons, what are we going to use to hack people to death?"

At the main seat.

Hearing this, Emperor Di pinched his rock-like chin with his thick fingers.

"We cannot slow down our greenskin industrialization plan."

"We don't feed idle people. Luchaser, take our Corn Boys and go drag all those Weirdboyz back for me!"

"Run? Break their legs and lock them to the generator! Make them discharge electricity twenty-four hours a day!"

Luchaser: "Alright! Leave it to me; I guarantee to squeeze out their very last shred of psychic power."

Emperor Di turned his head to look at Hellscream:

"Take the Extreme Boys to the east and directly annex that Redfire Tribe for me. Every single greenskin in the tribe, no exceptions, drag them all to the assembly line to screw bolts!"

"Understood!"

Hellscream excitedly hammered his chest, producing a dull, booming sound.

Emperor Di stood up, his three-meter-tall body blocking the light from above.

A huge shadow enveloped the entire conference table.

"Brothers, all put in more effort!"

He waved his millstone-sized fists, his voice excited,

"Although our legion was established late, what we lack the least is free population under our hands!"

"Build large ships as soon as possible! We are going to fight an unprecedented Great Crusade!"

Emperor Di walked over to the wall.

"I've already found the destination!"

"Right at the edge of the Warp rift, [Demons Throat]!"

"Hehe."

Emperor Di laughed,

"If we take that star system first, advancing, we can rush into Demons Throat to farm those Warp demons and earn crazy points! Retreating, we can continue south to capture other native greenskins as laborers to replenish production capacity. It's simply perfection!"

Hearing this grand blueprint, Hellscream scratched his bald green forehead.

"The plan is good, but I found a problem."

"Recently in the underground factories, some native greenskins have started resisting going into the factory to screw bolts."

"What's going on?" Emperor Di asked.

"They feel that as an orc, they should set aside eight hours a day for fighting and another eight hours for eating meat. Working a dozen-plus hours a day is more than they can take."

The hall suddenly fell silent.

Emperor Di was stunned for two seconds.

"What are these greenskins thinking?!"

"Are their brains filled with water? They aren't even human! They still want to enjoy human rights?!"

"Beat them! Beat them hard!"

"Tell them that around here, there is no eight-hour workday!"

"If they don't screw bolts, how are we supposed to earn points? How are we supposed to use more badass weapons? How are we supposed to pilot even larger spaceships south to farm demons?!"

"Full army mobilize! Go to the factories to supervise work! Whoever dares to stop what they're doing today, I'll personally stuff them into the reactor as fuel!"

Shifting gaze north.

Coming to Black Port.

Black Port.

To put it small, this was a fortress planet.

But to put it large, this term represented a shadow corridor running through the north and south of the star sector.

There wasn't a single star in this vast sector.

Only the endless bitter cold of deep space, and four interstellar fortresses smashed out by the Empire at any cost during the Great Crusade.

The first three fortresses, like three massive iron nails driven into the void, formed a defense in depth.

And the Black Port fortress was firmly stuck at the southernmost and narrowest choke point of the shadow corridor.

To make an inappropriate analogy.

Black Port was like the Shanhai Pass of the Ming Dynasty.

And the preceding three fortresses were the Ning-Jin defense line.

At this moment.

The airspace of the Red Shield Fortress at the outermost periphery of the defense line.

A massive, battered fleet was quietly hovering in the anchorage to recuperate.

Thirty-six Imperial Navy cruisers.

One hundred and twenty-two frigates.

Coupled with countless supply ships and armed tugboats on the periphery, filling this void to the brim.

Not a single ship was intact.

After the bloody battles of previous days, these giant ships had all sustained some damage.

The ceramite armor plates of the cruisers were covered in scorch marks, the barrels of the Macro Cannon arrays were bent and deformed from excessive firing, and the Void Shield generators burst out with unstable electric sparks from time to time.

On the periphery of the naval fleet, two out-of-place formations were also roaming.