100: Chapter 100 The Proxy Arrives, A High-Stakes Gamble Decides Life and Death

As the old saying goes, when your luck is down, even drinking water gets stuck between your teeth.

Misfortunes never come singly. Wade's roar, laced with static, crackled through the communicator:

"Governor! The remnants of the nobility are launching a sneak attack behind our defensive lines! They are defecting on a massive scale and have destroyed a large number of factories in the Mid-Hive."

Fu Haoran's blood pressure spiked instantly.

The factories in the Mid-Hive are the lifeblood of the Hive City. If they are gone, the Hive City is finished!

"Those animals! If they want to run, fine, but they have to make me sick before they go."

Unfortunately, it wasn't over yet. Wade added: "Sir, we also discovered that the nobles took away a large amount of assets and production materials."

"The factory data slates, servitors, machine matrices, spare parts, and even half of the energy reserves in the warehouse have been emptied! They are trying to squeeze the Hive City dry before running away!"

Fu Haoran knew what this meant; it meant his Hive City was on the verge of bankruptcy!

This battle was instigated by the old nobility from the beginning. Their goal was to use the Genestealer Cult to divert his attention.

Fu Haoran had to admit, they played this hand beautifully.

"Fine, fine, fine. I admit I underestimated these vermin."

"Do you intend to surrender?" Lucifier had squeezed Wade out of the communication channel at some unknown point, her cold voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

"Surrender?" Fu Haoran sneered, "No, I am just lamenting that there are countless heroes in this world, numerous as the crucian carp crossing the river."

"Life is but a fleeting hundred years, nothing more than a high-stakes gamble!"

"Since they won this round, it is now my turn to bet on the next."

Fu Haoran took a headband out of his system inventory; it was the exclusive reward obtained after beheading the Hive Lord—the Genetic Mimic.

[System Prompt: Genetic Mimic, a one-time use item. It has recorded the complete genetic sequence of the Genestealer Patriarch. After wearing it, one can perfectly simulate the target's aura, soul, and homologous psychic fluctuations. Once the target sees through the disguise, the item will be permanently disabled.]

[PS: Life is a play, and it all depends on acting. This is a one-shot deal; if you mess up the performance, you'll be the one being served at the funeral feast. Think twice!]

Fu Haoran weighed the headband in his hand and looked at the captive female bishop, Moria, who was tied up nearby. He said in a flat tone, "Wake her up, and then all of you get out."

"Are you crazy?!" Dredd bristled immediately, "She is the second-in-command of the cult, a powerful psyker! Meeting her alone is like a lamb entering a tiger's den!"

"I know what I'm doing."

Seeing Fu Haoran's insistence, Dredd said no more, merely gripping his chainsword tightly, ready to charge in at any moment.

Tychus grinned and said, "We'll be guarding just outside the door. Just shout, and I'll come in to save the day. Don't die too quickly, though."

Fu Haoran didn't reply, instead removing his helmet and placing the metal headband on his forehead.

The cold metal instantly adhered to his skin, and a wave of homologous psychic energy, originating from the Patriarch, surged into his mind along the circuits.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a faint, imperceptible purple glint flashed in the depths of his eyes.

A basin of cold water splashed Moria awake.

She had lost an arm and was covered in wounds. The moment she opened her eyes and saw Fu Haoran, her vertical pupils constricted. Her remaining psychic energy gathered instantly, and just as she was about to curse "Lackey of the False Emperor," an irresistible, homologous psychic pressure from the depths of her genes slammed onto her psychic core.

Her fanatical faith gave her an instinctive sense of closeness and awe toward this psychic energy, leaving her with nothing but a face full of confusion.

[Mimic active. Moria's current trust level: 35% (Suspicious)]

Fu Haoran crouched down and extended his hand. There was no trace of mockery on his face, only a devotion even more fanatical than hers: "Handmaiden of the Four-Armed Emperor, the great cause is not yet finished. Now is not the time to rest. Get up."

Moria subconsciously extended her hand and was pulled up.

She stared fixedly at Fu Haoran's unfamiliar face, her expression full of confusion: "Who... are... you?"

"No time to explain. Follow me, our kin need us!"

Fu Haoran didn't answer directly, instead picking up the Hive Lord's head from beside his feet and placing it in front of her.

The wound from the melta bomb on the head was clearly visible, and the cut from the chainsword was clean and sharp.

"Ah!" Seeing the tragic state of the Hive Lord, Moria couldn't hold back her tears.

"Dry your tears!" Fu Haoran rebuked, "The great Four-Armed Emperor does not believe in tears, only in the blood of the enemy!"

"You must remember, it was that group of vermin-like nobles who killed the Hive Lord. They want to use this to disintegrate us!"

"I absolutely cannot allow this to happen. They will not succeed."

Moria dried her tears. She felt that what the man in front of her said made perfect sense; blood debts must be paid in blood.

"What do you intend to do? Without the Hive Lord's psychic link, we cannot get all the cultists to follow our command."

"You are wrong! The Hive Lord's psychic power can link bodies, but what truly unites souls is a shared belief, the hatred carved into our bones, and the desire to survive! Psychic power can be severed, but the will cannot!"

"The Hive Lord has fallen, but that does not mean our cause has failed."

"We must let our enemies see that we will carry on the Patriarch's will, continue to fight, settle the score with the scum who conspired against Him, and complete the Four-Armed Emperor's unfinished business."

"Now, we must gather all our former forces and begin a new battle."

Moria looked at the Hive Lord's head, then at the fanatical devotion in Fu Haoran's eyes, and felt the irresistible psychic pressure from the depths of her genes. The hostility in her eyes completely faded away.

[Mimic active. Moria's current trust level: 80% (Deeply Convinced)]

Moria stumbled to her knees and performed the cult's most standard gesture of submission to Fu Haoran: "Very well, I will strictly follow the Herald's will and join you."

Outside, Dredd's bolter was already aimed inside. If not for Tychus holding him back, Dredd would have already charged in to execute this "heretic."

"He's crazy! He's completely lost it! I've never seen something so absurd in my entire life!"

Tychus looked indifferent: "Don't get excited, just watch. This sly bastard always succeeds whenever he does something absurd."

A few minutes later.

Fu Haoran walked in front, with Moria following respectfully behind him, her head bowed, carrying the Hive Lord's head in her hands.

Everyone was stunned. The chainsword in Dredd's hand nearly dropped to the ground, his worldview collapsing once again: "You... you turned her to our side?!"

Fu Haoran didn't explain, just tilted his chin: "Get on the lift."

Ling Shuang looked at the headband on his forehead, then at the submissive Moria, and instantly understood something. She gasped, immediately raising her bolter to clear the way, and asked in a low voice: "Governor, this move of yours... do you really intend to bet it all?"

Fu Haoran didn't look back: "Once the arrow is fired, there is no turning back."

Ling Shuang fell silent.

She suddenly felt that the tactics and theories she had studied for years at the Schola Progenium seemed to have been a waste of time.

...

The lift started slowly, ascending toward the ground defensive lines.

Greeting them was a crowd that stretched as far as the eye could see.

In the crowd, there were hybrid acolytes who retained human silhouettes, four-armed pureblood warriors, and mutants who had been transformed after infection.

They had originally been madly assaulting Wade's defensive lines, but after losing the Hive Lord's psychic link, they had retreated back here. Their eyes held only anger, fear, and a confusion that went to the bone.

The Hive Lord's death had left them completely without direction.

Fu Haoran pressed the loudspeaker on his power armor, his gaze sweeping over the tens of thousands of eyes below. He spoke, his voice like a thunderclap, booming across the entire battlefield.

"Raise your heads and look at me!"

"Do not cry, do not be sad, we have not failed!"

This sentence, like a ray of dawn, awakened the confused cultists.

"The Hive Lord's death is not the end! It is a new beginning!"

The crowd instantly became agitated, with roars and growls rising one after another.

"Those nobles sitting in the Upper Nest, drinking fine wine and eating gourmet food, those parasites who survive by exploiting you—they think that by killing the Patriarch, they can force us back onto our knees!"

"They think they can make us unable to even eat corpse-starch, keep hiding in the sewers, and continue being the rats in their eyes!"

"But I ask you, who gave you life? Who allowed you to survive in this damned world? Was it the nobles? Was it the merchants?"

"No! It is the Four-Armed Emperor! It is ourselves!"

The screeching in the crowd gradually turned into angry growls.

"They call you heretics, they call you monsters, they call you the rats of the Underhive, but are you really?"

Fu Haoran pointed to the brightly lit Upper Nest in the distance, where noble shuttles were still frantically flying out toward the sector.

"Look there! Look at those people! What are they eating? It's real meat, real bread, real food! And what about you?"

"What you eat is the corpse-starch that they wouldn't even give to a dog!"

"Just now, they blew up the factories and emptied the grain stores. Tomorrow, the price of corpse-starch will rise to five hundred thousand credit points per kilogram!"

This number, like a knife, stabbed fiercely into the heart of every cultist.

The price of corpse-starch was a pain carved into the bones of everyone living in the darkness of the Underhive.

In the crowd, some had already begun to roar along, and the feeling of anger spread like wildfire.

"But today, I want to tell you, this is wrong!"

Fu Haoran's voice rose sharply.

"The Four-Armed Emperor guided us to this world, not to let us be rats! It was to bring us light, hope, and fairness!"

"We only want food, water, and space to survive! This is not a sin! This is justified!"

"The Hive Lord is dead, but the Great Will will not die!"

"It has merely changed form to continue guiding us!"

"Those nobles who conspired against the Patriarch, stole your grain, and destroyed your livelihood have already run away! But what they owe us must be repaid!"

Fu Haoran paused, his gaze sweeping over every fanatical face, his voice carrying an unquestionable power.

"Now, I promise you in the name of the Herald of the Great Will, and as the Hive City Planetary Governor!"

"From this day on, everyone shall walk in the light! There will be water, there will be food, and you will have the right to survive!"

"Furthermore, I will lead you to take back everything that should have been ours! Those who sit in the Upper Nest drinking our blood, those who have forced our children into desperate straits—we will settle the score, one by one, with interest!"

The crowd was completely boiling over.

"Long live the Four-Armed Emperor!"

"Long live the Herald!"

Screeches, roars, and fanatical cheers blended into one, shaking the entire lift.

Tens of thousands of hybrid Genestealers performed the most devout gesture of submission to Fu Haoran on the platform.

[Mimic active. Group trust level: 80% (Fanatical Loyalty)]

Moria knelt behind Fu Haoran, tears mixed with green body fluid flowing down, her voice full of ecstatic joy: "The Great Will... you have really returned..."

Fu Haoran stood expressionless in front of the railing, maintaining the psychic pressure, silently adding a line in his heart: It's not your god who has returned, but your new boss.

The fanatical believers automatically parted to both sides, prostrating themselves on the ground, clearing a wide path for the protagonist and his party.

Fu Haoran stepped off the platform, and Ling Shuang, Dredd, and Tychus immediately followed with their team. They looked calm and composed on the surface, but their palms were soaked in sweat.

Dredd looked at the Genestealers prostrating on both sides, his body stiff, and cursed in a low voice: "I have never seen any cultist with this kind of brainwashing ability."

Tychus, for once, didn't undermine him, but nodded in agreement.

As the group passed through the Genestealer crowd, Fu Haoran walked past a young mother and suddenly, his brain misfired, wanting to show the Herald's approachability.

He bent down and reached out to touch the baby in her arms.

Then he saw the face of that thing clearly.

The wrinkled skin was tinged with purple, the mouth was full of fine, sharp teeth, and four little claws were flailing in the swaddling clothes—it was ugly and ferocious.

It was a pureblood baby!

Fu Haoran's movement froze for half a second.

The mother looked up, staring at him with a fanatical face, her eyes full of worship and anticipation.

Fu Haoran's mouth twitched, but he bit the bullet and reached out, gently pinching the monster's little claw.

"Good."

The baby let out a hoarse gurgle, appearing to enjoy it.

Fu Haoran turned and walked away, complaining frantically in his heart: Damn it, I've never worked this hard in my life.

Behind him, the mother was trembling with excitement, holding the baby and kneeling on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly.

Tychus leaned over, laughing in a sleazy, low voice: "Governor, when that baby's claw scratched you just now, I saw your leg shake."

Fu Haoran remained expressionless: "Your eyes are playing tricks on you."

Tychus grinned: "Fine, if you say so. But next time you touch one, remember to wear gloves. Those things have sharp teeth."

The group finally walked out of the Genestealer crowd and arrived in front of Wade's defensive line.

Wade was still holding his gun, stunned in place, watching the group of monsters that had just been frantically tearing his brothers apart now kneeling behind Fu Haoran with fanatical devotion. His worldview had completely collapsed.

He pinched himself hard, wincing in pain, then looked at the Genestealers prostrating on the ground, muttering to himself: "Why... won't this dream end?"

Fu Haoran patted him on the shoulder and pushed his gun barrel all the way down.

"It's not a dream, we made it out alive."

He looked back at the endless crowd of Genestealers behind him and ordered in a flat tone: "Withdraw the troops. Have all the brothers retreat to the Mid-Hive and consolidate the defensive lines."

"With... withdraw?" Wade's brain hadn't caught up yet, "What about these... these monsters?"

"They are our own people for the time being." When Fu Haoran said this, he didn't mean it as a joke at all.

Wade stood stunned, watching Fu Haoran swagger away with a group of Genestealers, then looked at the corpses covering the ground, unable to recover for a long time.

The setting sun shone through the steel dome of the Hive City, falling on Fu Haoran's back.

In his hands, he held a Hive City on the verge of bankruptcy; behind him followed tens of thousands of fanatical believers; and under his feet was the newly pacified Underhive.

In this high-stakes gamble, he had won the first round.

And the sky over the Hive City had completely changed.