92: Chapter 92: Encountering an acquaintance at the bottom of the nest, but the other party was a bit agitated, as if they wanted to fight to the death.

Ronan reacted the fastest: "Everyone, keep up! Aim for the Grave-Thieves above! Don't let them ambush us from overhead!"

The veterans and Ogryns coordinated perfectly, one charging while the other provided cover.

Gunfire, roars, and screams blended together as the entire tunnel vibrated.

Dredd suddenly remembered the words he had spoken back at the crime scene.

Underhive trash, loophole-seeking opportunists—

He touched the scar on his face, then looked at Tychus, who was currently in a frenzy.

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These two together really were a perfect match.

The battle lasted for an unknown amount of time.

When the last Grave-Thief fell, everyone was panting heavily, drenched in blood.

Fu Haoran shook the flesh and blood off his circular saw, preparing to count the casualties.

Dredd pulled something off the corpse of a Grave-Thief wearing noble attire and tossed it to Fu Haoran.

It was a cold metal nameplate.

The family crest of House Grinner was engraved on it, and on the back was a handwritten line of coordinates—the exact location of the Third Armory.

Fu Haoran rubbed the nameplate with his fingertips, his gaze instantly turning cold.

Hard evidence of an inside traitor had been found.

House Grinner.

Those monsters who sustained their lives by eating human flesh were indeed colluding with the Grave-Thieves.

But before he could speak, a piercing screech of static suddenly came through the entire team's tactical communicators.

A heart-palpitating sense of pressure instantly enveloped the entire underground tunnel.

Father Karen's urgent voice rang out over the comms: "My Lord! Watch out! I've detected an extremely strong psychic pulse. It must be the Hive Lord using psychic powers to lock onto your position!"

"You must leave immediately!"

Fu Haoran shook the blood and filth off his chain-saw disc and said, "It seems this place is no longer safe. Let's go, head to Rest Point Two."

Having said that, he took the first step forward.

The team immediately moved out.

The veterans guarded the rear, the Ogryns—with their somewhat slow reaction times—were still immersed in the excitement of battle, and the Servo-skulls scouted the path ahead as the team advanced silently through the long, narrow tunnel.

Twenty minutes later, the team withdrew into an abandoned mine transit station. A heavy alloy gate slammed shut, completely sealing off the outside world.

In the temporary rest point, only the emergency lights glowed with a faint red light.

Servitors moved through the team, resupplying the Ogryns with ammunition. Dredd leaned against a supply vehicle while a medic finished treating his wounds; bandages covered his arms and chest, and his face remained pale.

Ling Shuang handed over a nutrient shot at the right moment and asked, "Judge Dredd, why would you appear alone in the Underhive?"

""

Dredd downed the nutrient shot, the bitter taste making him frown, and then he recounted his investigation over this period in full detail.

"You're saying that more than half of the core members of House Grinner have been infected by xenos?" Fu Haoran asked.

"More than that." Dredd grew angry at the mention of it. "They rely on eating human flesh to extend their xeno-twisted lifespans. Judge Horn was silenced because he stumbled upon their gluttonous feast."

""

"I blew up their family cemetery and dissected the body of their second daughter, Elvin, to confirm this."

"Following the clues, I discovered that House Grinner and the Four-Armed Cult of the Underhive have been in bed together for a long time."

He paused and looked at Fu Haoran, his eyes full of complexity: "Governor, why did you bring such a team down here?"

Fu Haoran cursed indignantly, "It's all because the previous Governor left me a pile of messes. I came down to clear out the trash and, while I'm at it, give these bastards a warm welcome."

Dredd's gaze instantly fell upon a large crate covered with a waterproof tarp in the corner of the team.

A sophisticated control console was embedded in the crate, clearly a remote detonation device for a bomb.

His years of intuition as a Judge told him that this was definitely nothing good.

But why would a Governor bring such a dangerous thing down here? Shouldn't he be living in luxury in the Spire?

Frowning, he re-examined the team, and the more he looked, the more things felt off.

Just then, heavy mechanical footsteps echoed from the tunnel entrance.

A four-meter-tall matte black Punisher Mecha walked in with steady strides. The heavy Bolter on its left arm was ready to fire at any moment, and the Adeptus Arbites insignia on its hull was particularly striking under the emergency lights.

"An Adeptus Arbites Punisher Mecha?!"

Dredd suddenly stood up from the supply vehicle. The movement was too sudden and pulled at his wounds, making him grimace in pain, but the shock in his eyes completely outweighed the agony.

"The entire Hive City Adeptus Arbites only has a quota of three! Even field Judges don't have the authority to deploy one individually! You're just a Hive Governor, how can you have one?!"

"An heirloom collection from the Governor's Mansion," Fu Haoran lied without blinking or even looking up.

Dredd was instantly speechless.

Just as he was about to argue against Imperial military regulations, he saw over a dozen Cyber-Mastiffs file in. They carried scouted Grave-Thief limbs in their mouths and skillfully placed them in front of Ling Shuang.

"You even have Adeptus Arbites Cyber-Mastiffs?!" Dredd almost shouted.

Fu Haoran was unusually embarrassed, but he toughed it out and argued: "Bought them on the black market. These things are quite popular in wealthy circles after all; the security is reliable."

This reason was barely plausible.

But a second later, Dredd's gaze swept over the resting Ogryns, and his blood pressure instantly spiked.

The Ogryns in the front row were holding plastiform heavy shields, the top-tier equipment for Adeptus Arbites riot squads, with vibration armor-piercing modules embedded in the edges.

Hanging at their waists were exclusive Adeptus Arbites Power Mauls.

The Ogryns in the back row were carrying heavy Bolter shotguns specially supplied to the Adeptus Arbites. The insignia on the gun bodies was as clear as could be.

"These shields! These mauls! These Bolter shotguns! This is all top-tier equipment for the Adeptus Arbites riot squads!"

Dredd whipped his head around and stared fixedly at Fu Haoran, the fury in his voice almost erupting: "What's with the Adeptus Arbites insignias on them?! I need an explanation!"

Fu Haoran rolled his eyes.

He couldn't exactly say they left in such a hurry that they didn't have time to grind the insignias off.

To change the subject, he decided to bring out into the open the matter he had been keeping hidden all along.

Fu Haoran pulled two cigars from his pocket and tossed one to Tychus.

Tychus reached out and caught it steadily, his movements smooth and natural, lacking any of the clumsiness typical of an Ogryn.

Fu Haoran struck his lighter and leaned over to light it for him.

Amidst the swirling smoke, Tychus grinned with the cigar in his mouth, and fluent High Gothic escaped his lips, without a hint of dull-wittedness: "Governor, when did you find out?"

That one sentence caused the entire rest point to fall instantly silent.

Ling Shuang was stunned, Dredd's eyes widened, and Ronan and the other veterans looked as if they had seen a ghost.

An Ogryn who could speak so fluently, and with a tone that was... composed?

"Oh, I thought something was off back at the training grounds," Fu Haoran said flatly. "During every assessment, you always managed to hit the exact line to get the soda reward, yet at the start of every session, you always acted dumber than anyone else."

"Once or twice is luck, but hitting the line precisely every single time is not normal."

"And then there were the two warnings down here in the Underhive. You detected the enemy before the Auspex every time. Explaining that with 'instinct' just doesn't cut it."

.

He looked up at Tychus with understanding in his eyes: "So I guessed that you've been playing dumb all along."

As soon as he finished speaking, Dredd suddenly exploded.

He stared fixedly at Tychus's honest-looking face, his pupils suddenly contracting. He pointed at the old scar that slashed across his entire face, his voice shaking uncontrollably: "It's you! It's actually you!"

Tychus chewed his cigar and tilted his head, reverting to his simpleton act: "Me no know you."

"You don't know me?!" Dredd gritted his teeth, trembling with rage. "This scar was given to me by you three years ago! You're the bastard who blew up my transport ship, swiped my sidearm, and escaped right under my nose!"

He instantly chambered a round in his Bolter, the muzzle aimed dead at Tychus's head.

Tychus didn't dodge.

He just took a step forward, pressed a hand the size of a fan against Dredd's shoulder, and gave a gentle push. Dredd, already weak from his heavy injuries, fell straight onto his back.

The next second, Tychus sat down.

Steady and firm.

Pinning Dredd's entire body beneath his backside.

"Scarface, don't be in such a hurry," Tychus said, grinning down from his seated position with the cigar in his mouth. "It's been five years; let's have a good chat."

Dredd was pinned so he couldn't move, his Bolter had been knocked far away, and his face was flushed red.

He wanted to curse, he wanted to struggle, but an Ogryn's natural brute strength—which rivaled that of a Space Marine—was not something he could withstand in his current state.

The surrounding veterans wanted to laugh but didn't dare, while Ling Shuang sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Fu Haoran watched this scene, his lip twitching, and he raised a hand to signal Tychus to get up.

The cigar in Tychus's mouth tilted as he slowly stood up, reaching out to pull Dredd up as well.

The first thing Dredd did upon getting up was lunging to retrieve his gun, and the second was shoving the muzzle back into Tychus's face.

"Enough." Fu Haoran took a step forward and pushed the Bolter down. "Judge, I understand your feelings, but now is not the time to settle scores."

He turned to Tychus and said with interest, "Talk. Start from the beginning. We have a little time."

Tychus habitually scratched his head in a dumb manner, took the cigar out of his mouth, and flicked the ash: "Fine, can't hide it anymore anyway."

He spoke, his tone reverting completely to a normal person's voice, without a hint of stupidity.

Dredd lowered his gun, but his eyes remained fixed on Tychus, his teeth grinding audibly.

"Five years." His voice was low, as if squeezed through his teeth. "Do you know how I've spent these five years?"

Tychus took a slow drag of his cigar and exhaled smoke: "How? Chasing me across the star systems, I reckon."

1

"To be honest, you were quite dedicated. You almost caught me a few times."

Dredd's face darkened further.

"Speaking of which, how's that old guy Grix, your mentor? His cigars really tasted great."

Veins bulged on Dredd's forehead: "You dare mention my mentor!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Tychus grinned. "When he was sitting under my backside back then, he didn't have a temper as big as yours."

Dredd's face turned from red to purple, then from purple to black.

The surrounding veterans kept their heads down, their shoulders shaking.

Fu Haoran suddenly developed a very strong interest in this smart Ogryn, but letting things just slide like this was clearly not appropriate.

As if agreeing with Fu Haoran, the system popped up:

[Triggered Side Quest: Recruit the Smart One]

[Quest Requirement: You have one chance to make the Ogryn before you into a great general of your territory]

[Name: Tychus]

[Race: Abhuman (Ogryn)]

[Attributes: Strength 91, Agility 31, Intelligence 110, Spirit 300, Constitution 250; Psyker Grade: Xi]

[Skills:]

Tactical Consultant: Proficient in Imperial military codex, urban/hive warfare tactics, capable of independently commanding a squad to complete high-difficulty combat missions. Linguistic Mastery: Mastered High Gothic, over a dozen Low Gothic dialects, Binary Servitor-speak, and some Psychic Ciphers. Fu Haoran admitted he was jealous; the guy's attributes were overwhelming across the board, and his intelligence even exceeded his strength!

What was even harder to accept was: why on earth is he a Psyker?

And a Xi-level one at that!

Most Grey Knights' psychic levels fall between Eta and Theta, belonging to the category of true Psykers who, after rigorous training, can stably use psychic skills like Hammerhand or Banishment.

This wasn't some small fry; this was a true psychic master!

Fu Haoran suddenly felt a bit annoyed by the smart Ogryn in front of him too.

This wasn't an Ogryn; this was a treasure!

However, if this treasure couldn't belong to him in the end—

He glanced at Dredd, who was still gnashing his teeth nearby, and his lips curled slightly.

A fugitive from the Adeptus Arbites plus a Judge who hated his guts... this game of chess seemed playable.

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