142: Chapter 142 Bloodline is Truth, the Clan is Eternity!

Don't miss the excitement: Chapter 142, Blood is Truth, the Brood is Eternal! Full version broadcast, click here.

The Underhive, Southern District, a plaza converted from an abandoned factory.

A massive rock wall had been chiseled flat, densely carved with names.

Under each name was a serial number; the handwriting was crooked, but carved so deeply that running a finger over it could cut the skin.

Victor XXXX-001, ranked first at the very top.

Tens of thousands of Genestealer Cult believers crowded the plaza, the white light of the searchlights illuminating the rock wall like a burning wall.

No one spoke; there was only the sound of the wind wailing through the iron fence.

Bishop Moriah stood on one side of the high platform with the Bishopric, her eyes sweeping over the sea of people below, her fingers tracing number after number on the register.

Fu Haoran walked onto the high platform.

He was not wearing his Governor's ceremonial robes, but the flight jacket from the battlefield, the collar still stained with unwashed traces of gunpowder smoke.

He scanned the crowd below, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on the wall carved with names.

"Three months ago," he began. His voice was not loud, but the loudspeaker hammered every word into the ears of the tens of thousands. "You were still cowering in the tunnels of the Underhive, gnawing on moldy corpse-starch, drinking radioactive water."

"When the Adeptus Arbites patrols came, you didn't even dare to breathe loudly."

Someone in the crowd clenched their fists.

"Now, you have houses to live in, energy bars to eat until you're full, and you can walk down the street with your heads held high."

"When the people of the Mid-Hive see you, they no longer dare to cast looks of disdain."

Fu Haoran paused, looking around at the crowd below.

"Who gave you all of this? It wasn't the charity of the nobles; it was bought with the lives of those whose names are on this wall."

Fu Haoran raised his hand and pointed to the name at the very top of the wall, his voice rising sharply: "The name at the very top, Victor! It was him! He was the first to charge up and blow up the Imperium's anti-aircraft position, using his own life to tear open a gap for our victory!"

"If he could do it, every single one of you can do it too!"

People in the crowd began to tremble.

"Their names will be carved here forever."

"Generations of believers will pass by and remember them. Their souls will ascend to the divine kingdom of the Four-Armed God-Emperor, where there is endless delicious food, endless clean water, and the lights never go out!"

Fu Haoran took a breath, his voice dropping, yet it carved into everyone's heart like poison: "But those who hide in the back, afraid to fight, who dare not take up weapons—they do not deserve to live here, nor do they deserve to eat clean food."

"They are traitors to the bloodline, the abandoned children of the God-Emperor."

Fu Haoran shifted his tone, his voice rising again: "However, the God-Emperor is merciful! The previous patriarch only wanted you to hide in the tunnels and wait for death, letting your children gnaw on moldy corpse-starch along with you!"

"But I will let your families live in houses in the Mid-Hive, let your children attend the Hive City academies, and ensure that for generations to come, you will never have to hide in the gutters again!"

The crowd exploded instantly.

"Blood is Truth, the Brood is Eternal!" Bishop Moriah looked at Fu Haoran with worship, shouting first, leading the Bishopric in a unified chant.

Tens of thousands followed the roar, the sound waves shaking dust from the factory ceiling.

The registration area was instantly overwhelmed; hundreds of believers reached out to grab registration forms at the same time, nearly overturning the table.

Moriah led the Bishopric to maintain order, stuffing registration forms into the believers' hands one by one.

Fu Haoran boarded the valkyrie gunship. Opposite him, Lucifelle's emerald eyes swept over the crowd still shouting fanatically outside the window, then fell back on him, her tone carrying a touch of mocking sarcasm:

"You are getting closer and closer to becoming a qualified superior. You trick people into the battlefield to die, yet you can still make them grateful. Your mouth is more effective than our Necron soul-reconstruction devices. To be this hypocritical is, in itself, a talent."

Fu Haoran was very certain that she was not complimenting him, but it didn't matter; the system data would not lie.

[Genestealer Cult Loyalty: 99.97% (Someone is actually still dissatisfied; this 0.03% gap shows there is still room for improvement)]

[Achievement Completed: In the Name of the Father]

[Mission Evaluation: SSS (You have successfully brainwashed a batch of believers, making them your fanatical followers)]

[Reward: general points + 50000, Free Attribute Points + 5]

[Reincarnator command system detected as formed, unlocking tactical aura — Assault Domain (Upgradable)]

[Effect: With the Reincarnator as the center, within a radius of several hundred meters, friendly unit reaction speed increases, shooting frequency accelerates; the molecular structure of enemy armor becomes brittle within the field, effectively reducing defensive performance.]

[On a battlefield with the Reincarnator as the core, all friendly attributes + 5]

In the words of Warhammer, this was a hero's aura, so Fu Haoran was not at all worried about anyone discovering the clues.

In a great mood, Fu Haoran said, "Thank you for the affirmation; I am simply satisfying their wishes and demands."

"It's twisting them, isn't it?" Lucifelle glanced at him.

Fu Haoran shook his head. "Twisting? I tell them how dangerous the battlefield is, give them weapons, and let them choose for themselves. They chose to die for the Hive City; that is called faith, not twisting."

Fu Haoran and Lucifelle both knew very well that the Genestealer Cult was a dam; if they didn't release water from time to time, it could burst at any moment.

Rather than spending effort on suppression in the future, it was better to let them shine and generate heat on the battlefield.

Fu Haoran believed this was the most cost-effective deal.

Raising a regular army capable of fighting hard battles—military pay, equipment, pensions—would burn through hundreds of thousands of Imperial Throne Gelt per month.

But these Genestealer believers only needed a full meal, a house, and a bit of honor, and they were willing to risk their lives to charge.

"I am just using the lowest cost to exchange for the highest combat loss ratio, and I can incidentally clear out the time bombs in the Hive City; three birds with one stone."

Lucifelle raised an eyebrow. "So you just squeeze every last drop of value out of this group of heretics?"

"This is called cultist-raising economics."

Lucifelle did not deny this point.

"Besides," Fu Haoran walked back to the window, "these Genestealers, if left in the Underhive, would either be regularly purged by the Adeptus Arbites or caught by the Imperial Army and burned as heretics, rotting in the tunnels without even leaving a name behind."

"Now they can gain dignity and honor, and walk down the street with their heads held high. Even if they die in battle, they can have their names carved on a monument; it's better than rotting in the gutters."

Lucifelle suddenly asked, "The opposing side is a coalition army from seven Hive Cities; what will you use to fight them?"

"A frontal assault—we can't afford that; we can only fight an asymmetric war." Fu Haoran's tone became serious.

"No matter how you struggle, it's futile." Lucifelle gave her conclusion.

Fu Haoran was unhappy. "Believe it or not, within three months, I can make Cole's troops not even dare to step a single step outside their camp gate."

Lucifelle gave a polite and graceful smile.

Yeah, she didn't believe it at all.

Fu Haoran's temper flared up too. "Want to make a bet? Three months as the limit; Cole's main force won't dare to move independently."

"If I succeed, you stop hiding in the command post all the time. Wherever I go, you have to follow."

Lucifelle raised an eyebrow. "You want me to be your bodyguard?"

"Don't put it so bluntly." Fu Haoran smiled. "We are nominally a couple, after all. Going out for a walk together, isn't that only natural?"

"And protecting me along the way is also a matter of course..." someone added in a low voice.

"And if you lose?"

This stumped him.

Seeing that Fu Haoran didn't answer, Lucifelle took the initiative: "If you lose, the surgery matter must be put on the agenda; your surgery will be scheduled before Tychus's."

Fu Haoran's heart skipped a beat. He knew that even with Ronan's super-strong werewolf self-healing ability, he almost didn't make it.

If it were him...

"You don't dare?" Lucifelle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Haha, the weather is really nice today."

Early the next morning, Fu Haoran distributed two sets of materials: "Militia Training Manual" and "Friends of Hive City Dual-Purpose Talents".

"Wade, distribute these to all officers, and then have each officer lead the soldiers and believers to execute them."

"Remember, don't teach the believers reasoning; just tell them what to do."

Wade flipped through the book "Friends of Hive City Dual-Purpose Talents", his expression becoming more and more strange, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter.

"Governor, giving this stuff to the Genestealers... won't that be like raising a tiger that will eventually turn on you?" Wade closed the book and couldn't help asking.

"Their faith is with me, in the divine kingdom of the Four-Armed God-Emperor." Fu Haoran didn't even look up. "As long as I can give them dignity and honor, the guns in their hands will only ever be aimed at our enemies."

Thinking of the fanatical appearance of the believers during the day, Wade's suspended heart finally settled a bit. He closed the book and said no more.

Moriah led the Bishopric, dividing the participating believers into small squads of a dozen people based on blood purity and combat ability. Each squad was assigned a member of the Bishopric who was responsible for both tactical command and pre-battle doctrinal brainwashing.

She and the Bishopric personally comforted the families of those who died in battle, delivering pensions and keys to Mid-Hive housing into the families' hands personally, and then preaching to everyone:

"This is the gift from The Agent to the pious! Your dedication is seen by both the God-Emperor and The Agent!"

The entire Underhive, under her control, turned into a seamless war machine.

In the tunnels and plazas of the Underhive, believers were gathered everywhere, reading the manuals.

Those who were literate explained to those who were not, and veterans who had fought before taught the newcomers how to ambush and how to hit and run.

An atavistic believer with a severed arm used his bone claws to secure a steam canister; he was Victor's fellow countryman. Since Victor had died in battle, he wanted to carry his comrade's share and continue to charge at the very front.

A newly adult hybrid believer crouched in a corner, using his mutated sharp claws to shave a seal for a steam canister. His fingers were bleeding profusely from being cut by the metal, yet he smiled with a face full of satisfaction.

Three months ago, he was still in the tunnels scrambling for moldy corpse-starch, without even the qualification to see the light.

Now, making bombs for sixteen hours a day was not, in his eyes, hard labor; it was a gift from The Agent, exclusively for the pious.

In half a month, the Red Sand Hills had completely become Cole's nightmare.

All the countermeasures Cole had tried were within Fu Haoran's predictions.

If a mine entrance was sealed, they would use the underground pipe network.

If landmines were dug up, they would switch to dual-mode pressure-triggered and time-delayed triggers.

If the army conducted a carpet search, they would break up into smaller units, dispersing into the gullies throughout the hills.

He never intended to fight a frontal decisive battle with Cole; he just wanted to use the lowest cost to drag Cole's troops to death in the Red Sand Hills, dragging it out until the coalition reinforcements arrived, grinding the opponent's morale to nothing.

The first chimera convoy sent out for patrol had only driven three kilometers when the lead vehicle ran over a pressure cooker bomb buried in the sand.

Iron nails blew through the chassis, and the soldiers in the vehicle were covered in blood.

The remaining vehicles turned around in a panic, triggering a second bomb.

Cole ordered infantry to scout the path, using probes to poke the ground with every step. The infantry walked five kilometers without triggering any bombs, and then, at an abandoned mine entrance, they were ambushed by dozens of Genestealer believers.

The believers rushed out of the mine, used meltaguns and Boltgun for less than two minutes, then turned and ran, diving into the mine and disappearing into the darkness.

The Imperial Army chased after them, but the tunnels inside were as complex as a spider web; they chased for half an hour without finding even a shadow.

Cole ordered the use of incendiary bombs to clear the mine entrances and seal all exits.

But there were hundreds of mine exits; after clearing the east side, ambushes would pop up in the west.

He tried laying mines around the perimeter of the camp, but the next day the mines were dug up and buried again on the path that the patrol teams had to take.

What made Cole even more devastated was that this group of heretics were always small squads of a dozen or so people, hit and run, never lingering in battle.

Even if an ambush was successful, they never pursued, immediately turning and diving into the mines, disappearing without a trace, leaving no opportunity to encircle and annihilate them.

The loss statistics for half a month were out: ten chimeras destroyed, seven Rhino assault vehicles, and over three hundred soldiers killed or wounded.

And the captured loot was: a few blown-up pressure cookers and a few smashed mobile phones.

Cole slammed the table in anger: "Have the Astropath send a request for help to the coalition!"

The adjutant replied with a grim expression: "Colonel, the coalition replied that the troops from other Hive Cities will need at least three months to complete mobilization; even at full speed, it will take half a year to arrive."

Cole slammed his fist on the table, his teeth grinding.

He had fought for twenty years and had never seen such a shameless way of fighting!

They wouldn't fight a frontal decisive battle; they were like rats in the gutter, nibbling away at his troops bit by bit, not even giving him the chance for a direct engagement.

Now, he could only rely on himself to hold out for this half year.

On the other side, Fu Haoran also had worries.

Spread on the table was the financial statement sent by Jimmy from the 2K World.

Three hundred thousand pressure cookers, two hundred thousand old mobile phones, three thousand tons of civilian explosive raw materials, plus the tens of thousands of test pickup trucks that had disappeared, the procurement costs accounted for 70% of the working capital.

The company was facing a serious deficit.

"Boss, there is less than 30 million USD in working capital left in the account; we must find a way to increase revenue."

Fu Haoran hung up the phone and rubbed his temples.

Winning a big battle should have been a happy thing.

However, the "Garden World", which served as his rear base, was actually showing a fiscal deficit.

"Sigh, war really burns money; there's no money in the account again."

Fu Haoran picked up the financial statement on the table; the densely packed expenditure items made his eyes hurt.

"Sigh, what a hassle; I have to figure out how to make money again."