160: Chapter 160 You're saying this is a purebred gay thief?

Chapter 160: You're Calling This a Purestrain Genestealer? There's a surprise, click here to unlock it now.

In the banquet hall, the pale glow of the emergency lights illuminated everyone's faces.

The moment the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered, several pitch-black Xenomorph Drones crawled in through the jagged gaps in the glass.

A massacre began instantly.

The first to die was a balding man wearing an Armani suit.

A Xenomorph hung upside down from the ceiling, its tail piercing his shoulder and hoisting him into the air.

Before the balding man could even scream, the inner pharyngeal jaw shot out, directly piercing his skull.

Blood and brain matter splattered onto the faces of the guests behind him.

Screams erupted.

A second Xenomorph lunged into the crowd from the side, its claws slashing through the air, disemboweling three people at once.

It didn't just slice the skin; it cut through suits, shirts, and ribs all at once.

Organs spilled all over the floor.

A third, a fourth, a fifth.

The guests crowded toward the door like madmen, piling on top of each other in the doorway as cries, screams, and the sound of bones snapping underfoot merged into one.

Shen Wanlin's face turned pale.

He tightly gripped Shen Shuwei, searching for another exit.

Just as he thought he saw an escape route ahead, he saw a woman in an evening gown get her ankle snagged by a Xenomorph's long tail and dragged into the darkness.

The scream lasted less than two seconds before cutting off, leaving only the sound of crushing bones and dripping slime.

What lay ahead wasn't an exit at all, but the entrance to the buffet.

The father and daughter had no choice but to turn back.

Just then, Shen Shuwei saw Fu Haoran standing "blankly" in place.

Fu Haoran stood there, neither running nor hiding—not because he was paralyzed with fear, but because he was speechless.

[Hostile Unit: Purestrain Genestealer (Drone-class)]

“System, you're calling this a Purestrain Genestealer? This is clearly a Xenomorph.”

[Purestrain Genestealer kill: reward 100 general points; Xenomorph kill: reward 10 general points.]

Fu Haoran fell silent for a second. Between his conscience and general points, he chose the latter.

“You're right, this is a Purestrain Genestealer. Everyone has a duty to slay them. To protect human civilization, I must clear out all these bastards today.”

Lucifelle sat on a nearby dining chair, her silver fork spearing a piece of sliced Wagyu beef, which she leisurely brought to her mouth.

She didn't even look up.

For a former Necron Overlord who hadn't eaten for who knows how many tens of thousands of years, nothing was more important than the plate of A5 Wagyu seared by a Michelin three-star chef in front of her.

A Xenomorph locked onto them.

Amidst the screaming and fleeing prey filling the hall, the two figures standing still were exceptionally eye-catching.

It arched its back, muscles tensing, and lunged at Fu Haoran with all four limbs.

A foul-smelling wind rushed at him as the inner pharyngeal jaw, dripping with slime, shot out from the gaping mouth, stopping less than ten centimeters from Fu Haoran's face.

With a flick of his wrist, Fu Haoran accurately jammed the stainless steel soup spoon in his hand into the Xenomorph's open mouth, thrusting it straight down the esophagus and into the chest cavity.

The force was so great that the entire spoon, handle and all, disappeared down the Xenomorph's throat.

The inner jaw could no longer retract, stuck halfway like a snapped spring.

The Xenomorph let out a shrill screech, its long tail whistling through the air as it lunged toward Fu Haoran's waist.

Fu Haoran's left hand accurately clamped onto its fan-shaped head, and he gave his wrist a violent twist.

Crack.

With a crisp snap, the Xenomorph's head was twisted a full 180 degrees. Its limbs twitched twice before it collapsed to the ground.

[general points +100]

Fu Haoran shook the slime off his hands and frowned as he looked at the corpse on the floor.

“I can't help but feel these Xenomorphs are much weaker than I imagined.”

Fu Haoran didn't realize that after multiple rounds of enhancement in the Warhammer World, he had long since moved beyond the scope of an ordinary human.

No matter how strong a Xenomorph was, its attributes were only a notch higher than a regular person's.

As Fu Haoran was thinking, the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered again with a bang.

Three larger Xenomorphs crawled in with a roar. The eye sockets of their fan-shaped heads glinted with a cold light, and they were a size larger than the one he had just killed.

Fu Haoran raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“That's more like it. I was wondering why it was so weak; it was just a scout. Fine, if the quality isn't there, I'll make up for it with quantity. Perfect for farming general points.”

Under the terrified gazes of the guests, Fu Haoran charged toward the lead Xenomorph.

Slipping past the Xenomorph's inner jaw, he threw a punch that whistled through the air, smashing the creature's entire head into the concrete of the ceiling.

A section of the ceiling collapsed, and the Xenomorph's body hung in mid-air, its limbs still twitching.

A second Xenomorph pounced from the side. Fu Haoran delivered a backhand knife-hand strike, chopping precisely at its neck.

With a crack, the Xenomorph's neck was knocked ninety degrees out of alignment, and it slammed heavily onto the floor.

Its neck was crooked, but it wasn't dead; its upper limbs were still flailing as it tried to crawl back up.

The third Xenomorph turned to flee, but Fu Haoran raised his leg and kicked it in the abdomen.

The massive force snapped the Xenomorph in half at the waist. Its upper and lower body separated, and half of it flew out the window, crashing onto the steps outside the hotel.

Fu Haoran leaned out to take a look and cursed.

“Didn't kick it to death.”

He looked down into the banquet hall, where several more Xenomorphs were crawling between tables and chairs, their massive heads looming in the darkness.

One was dragging a waiter's corpse into a ventilation duct, while another hung upside down from the ceiling, gnawing on a guest who was still alive.

“They're as numerous as rats.”

The doors to the banquet hall were burst open.

Tychus burst in, cursing and carrying a shotgun, followed by over a dozen armed security guards from DYB.

The shotgun was pressed against the chest of the nearest Xenomorph, its upper body obliterated by the blast.

“Boss, couldn't you pick a better time to call me over? Wait, what the hell is this thing?!”

Without looking back, Fu Haoran kicked away a lunging Xenomorph.

“Cut the crap. Pack up all the ingredients here and take them with us.”

Tychus momentarily doubted his hearing. He admitted he had a habit of pilfering things, but why did he feel like he was quite the innocent soul compared to his own Governor?

Lucifelle, who had been slowly cutting her steak, paused. She set down her cutlery and elegantly wiped her mouth.

“Well said. I'll go check the kitchen for more delicacies.”

Tychus rolled his eyes, grumbling internally.

“After serving the boss, I have to serve this lady too. I'm truly born to be an errand boy.”

But he didn't dare dawdle and followed after her.

Behind the kitchen doorframe, Shen Shuwei froze. A moment ago, she had been inwardly despising him for using a cliché pick-up line to get her attention, thinking he was a useless loafer.

The next moment, she watched as this "loafer" took down monsters capable of tearing adults to shreds, one after another, with his bare hands amidst the screaming chaos.

Shen Wanlin was also dumbfounded.

He had actually told his daughter to stay away from him earlier; he had actually thought this great deity was just a driver who had snuck in for free food and drinks.

Fu Haoran didn't spare them a single glance from beginning to end, turning to walk toward the hotel entrance.

Outside the window, a corner of the night sky over the southern suburbs of Washington was dyed red by soaring flames, and the lights across the entire southern district were going out, block by block.

The time goes back to ten-plus minutes ago.

Washington Southern Suburbs Power Plant.

The ground was littered with Xenomorph corpses, along with several low-level Reincarnators who had been torn apart by them.

No one gave them a second look.

“Everything is ready.” Steel Skeleton turned back. “The explosives have been planted at the core of the generator units. Once they blow, the entire power grid in southern Washington will be completely paralyzed.”

Fury, carrying a rocket launcher, asked in a muffled voice, “Are we really blowing it? It'll be trouble for us too afterward.”

“Trouble?” Magnet Queen chuckled. “The Lord God only requires us to survive for seventy-two hours; He didn't ask us to save the world.”

“Blowing up the power plant is beneficial to our operations.” Night Owl interjected, his voice cold. “The more Xenomorphs there are, the more general points we can farm. This is a rare point-farming world; we absolutely cannot miss it.”

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed from the core of the power plant, and soaring flames dyed half the night sky red.

The lights across southern Washington went out instantly, block by block, plunging the area into boundless darkness.

In the underground pipe network, countless Xenomorphs were stirred by the explosion. Letting out excited roars, they swarmed through the dark pipes toward every corner of the city.

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Night Owl raised a hand, his voice cold. “Steel Skeleton, track the location of the Xenomorph Queen. We're going for the first kill.”

“Balrog and Magnet Queen, you two take the low-level Reincarnators and split up to farm points. Be careful to avoid the signals from the Predators.”

“Fury, you come with me.”

The others responded, and their figures instantly vanished into the darkness of the control room.

...

A gun shop in the wealthy district.

When Fu Haoran pushed the door open and entered, the owner was behind the counter wiping a shotgun.

Seeing Fu Haoran walk in dressed in a formal suit, he only lifted his eyelids slightly.

He had seen plenty of wealthy people like this who wanted to buy a gun to play with on a whim.

"The largest caliber handgun."

The owner put down the shotgun and took a gun case from under the counter. After opening it, an exquisitely crafted revolver lay inside.

"RSH-12 assault revolver, Russian made." The owner took the gun out and slapped it onto the counter. "It can penetrate 16mm steel plate within 200 meters."

"However, I must remind you that no one buys this thing for self-defense. Those who buy it are either collectors or going bear hunting."

Fu Haoran picked it up and weighed it; the grip felt good, but it was too "light."

"I also want a tactical axe."

The owner took down a Winkler breaching axe from the wall.

Approximately 35cm in total length, forged from 80CrV2 carbon steel, with a breaching hammer on the back of the axe, and a black oxide finish.

Fu Haoran weighed the axe in his hand and was fairly satisfied.

"And a shotgun, a Remington M870, short-barreled."

The more the owner heard, the more he felt something was wrong, and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.

But since these items were within the scope of civilian sales permits, he grit his teeth and brought the gun out anyway.

However, Fu Haoran did not intend to stop there.

He raised his hand and pointed to the display case at the very back of the counter.

"That ASh-12 assault rifle, and the matching 12.7mm armor-piercing rounds. I'll take them all."

The owner's face instantly turned pale. "Sir, this gun is military-grade; it cannot be sold for civilian use..."

Fu Haoran slapped a black card onto the counter, then pulled out his National Guard Major General's ID and slapped it down next to the card.

The owner shut his mouth instantly and nimbly packed up the gun, magazines, and ammunition.

Ten minutes later, Fu Haoran drove his own DYB pickup truck, loaded with a truckload of firearms and ammunition, straight to the National Guard's Washington D.C. station.

The National Guard's Washington D.C. station.

The station's complement was about 2,400 people, with about 700 from the D.C. area and the rest from surrounding states.

Most of the soldiers were stationed near the National Mall and the Lincoln Memorial, leaving less than three hundred on duty at the armory.

A group of National Guard soldiers were gathered at the armory entrance, smoking.

Some were scrolling through their phones, others were complaining.

"Look at the news, the southern suburbs are completely blacked out. The news says there was an accident at the power plant and it can't be repaired in the short term?"

"I can't believe it. This is Washington, and we're actually having a power outage."

"Whatever, it's not like they're letting us go to war anyway."

Before he could finish his sentence, a Xenomorph jumped down from the armory roof and tackled the soldier closest to the door.

Its claws slashed across his chest, slicing through the bulletproof vest like paper.

Before the soldier could even scream, the inner jaw snapped out, piercing through his eye socket.

"Fuck!"

The rest of the people instantly fell into chaos.

Some drew their guns, some ran into the armory, and some collapsed on the ground with weak legs.

A soldier raised an M4 carbine and fired wildly at the Xenomorph.

The bullets struck the Xenomorph's frontal bone exoskeleton, sending sparks flying but only leaving shallow marks; they couldn't penetrate it at all.

The Xenomorph just swayed slightly and continued crawling forward with a hiss.

The soldiers grew even more panicked and held the triggers down. Amidst the dense hail of bullets, the Xenomorph let out a shrill shriek and finally died.

But it was too late.

A second Xenomorph crawled out from a side ventilation duct, its tail stinger instantly piercing the machine gunner's shoulder and pinning him to the wall.

A third, a fourth, a fifth.

In the darkness, Xenomorphs kept crawling in from the roof, vents, and gaps in doors and windows, and the soldiers' defensive line was instantly shattered.

Three minutes later, seventeen soldiers were dead, and the survivors were forced to retreat into the deepest part of the armory, piling up ammunition boxes as a temporary defensive line. Nearly half of their rifle ammunition had been consumed.

The Xenomorphs crowded the entrance, their fan-shaped heads swaying in the dark like a pack of wolves surrounding prey, not rushing in recklessly.

Suddenly, the soldiers saw light coming from outside the window. Someone was about to give a warning, but then they saw the arriving pickup truck run directly over a Xenomorph crouching at the entrance.

It crushed the Xenomorph's exoskeleton along with its internal organs.

The pickup truck fishtailed and stopped at the armory entrance.

The car door opened.

Fu Haoran jumped down and saw the Xenomorph pinned under the truck, not yet completely dead.

Its upper body was still struggling, claws scraping the ground in an attempt to crawl away.

Fu Haoran walked over, stepped on its back with one foot, gripped the Winkler breaching axe in his left hand, and swung the blade down with a whistling sound.

The Xenomorph's head, along with its fan-shaped armor, was split in two.

Because it was so fast, the Xenomorph's corrosive blood didn't even have time to splash onto the axe blade.

Then he walked toward the armory.

At first, the soldiers inside only faintly heard the monsters' roars from outside, occasionally accompanied by gunshots.

As time passed, the loud crashing sounds and the monsters' screams grew louder.

Finally, the door was opened with an access card, and a young Asian man in a slightly dirty bespoke suit walked in.

"I am Major General Fu Haoran. From now on, command of this station belongs to me."

A first sergeant with a blood-covered face stood up, gripping his M4 rifle, his eyes wary. "Sir! This is against regulations! We need formal authorization from the Pentagon or a special order from the President!"

Fu Haoran didn't waste any words; he first pulled out his Washington National Guard Major General's ID and threw it to the first sergeant.

The first sergeant took the ID and looked it over three times. His expression changed instantly; the ID was real, and the rank was two levels higher than the station's highest commander.

Right in front of him, Fu Haoran dialed Major General Bradley's encrypted satellite phone.

The phone rang twice before being picked up. Bradley's anxious voice came from the other end: "Major General Fu? Where are you? Washington is in total chaos! The southern suburbs' power plant was bombed, half the city's power grid is paralyzed, and there are reports of unknown creature attacks everywhere!"

"I'm at the D.C. National Guard station. I need to take over command here now."

"No problem! I'll send formal authorization to the station headquarters right now! You are in full charge of the emergency response for Washington D.C.; all National Guard units will follow your orders!"

Less than ten seconds after the call ended, the station headquarters' broadcast rang out, formally relaying the Pentagon's authorization order.

Fu Haoran turned around and looked at the soldiers huddled in the armory, adding without skipping a beat, "Move into the city immediately, eliminate all hostile targets endangering national security, and protect the citizens. Understood?"

The soldiers finally snapped out of it and nodded repeatedly, instantly finding their backbone.

"Everyone, take all the weapons and ammunition you can carry. M240 general-purpose machine guns, AT4 rocket launchers, fragmentation grenades, flashbangs—take as many as you can."

"Then start up all the M1117 armored personnel carriers, Humvees, and M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles. Load all the machine guns."

"Group three, contact the units stationed at the National Mall and the Lincoln Memorial immediately. Tell them to gather at the station's main gate within ten minutes with all their equipment and vehicles."

Once the order was given, the previously panicked soldiers moved into action instantly.

Half an hour later, the doors of the armored vehicle garage roared open.

Four M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles led the way, followed closely by eight M1117 armored personnel carriers, with heavy machine guns mounted on their roofs.

Flanking them were over twenty Humvees fitted with bulletproof armor.

From the direction of the National Mall, another three armored vehicles and over a dozen Humvees came racing toward them. The captain leading the group jumped out and gave Fu Haoran a standard military salute. "Reporting, sir! The 372nd Military Police Battalion of the National Guard, one hundred and twenty men, all assembled! Awaiting your orders!"

Fu Haoran swept his gaze over the troops before him.

Counting the survivors from the armory and the arriving military police battalion, he now had nearly four hundred fully armed soldiers and close to fifty armored vehicles of various types under his command—enough to tear a hole through downtown Washington.

However, this number was still not enough. On the system panel, Xenomorph signals across the city were still refreshing frantically.

"Let's go. We'll head to the police station first and mobilize all available forces."

Fu Haoran's thinking was clear: since he belonged to the local forces, why not utilize them? He wasn't fighting this battle alone.