12: Chapter 12 Crossfire

Lin Yuan pulled the trigger.

At the end of the B-1 corridor, the turret cover, disguised as a ventilation grille, slid open. The hydraulic rod hissed like a viper. Two twin-linked Bolters locked onto the heat source, and the crossfire instantly wove a net of death. The biological early warning of the Tyranids was no match for tungsten-cored armor-piercing rounds. The lead Scavenger's chest exploded, with dark green Biological Armor fragments mixed with rotten viscera splattering against the wall, making a sizzling sound as acid corroded the metal.

The second one, attempting to leap into the ventilation duct, was cut in half by predictive fire; its spinal bone was exposed, and its lower half twitched on the ground, spraying neurotoxins. The third, crawling along the ground while spraying spore mist, had its forelimbs swept off by the barrage. Inertia caused it to slam into the bulkhead, turning into a bloody mess; the friction between its chitinous carapace and the metal door produced a teeth-grinding, piercing noise.

The fourth modified specimen charged into the hail of bullets. Sparks flew from its chitinous shoulder armor, and the muffled thuds of bullets embedding into the Biological Armor sounded like striking rotten wood. Lin Yuan, expressionless, pressed the secondary trigger. A plasma incinerator descended from the ceiling interlayer, its blue-white energy beam vaporizing the creature's upper body. The remaining lower half continued its charging posture, collapsing forward and dragging a trail of charred slime across the floor.

"Biological signal remaining: one." Lin Yuan stared at his tactical eyepiece, his breathing steady.

Commander. The modified specimen draped in a tattered black robe did not charge at the turret but instead lunged for the emergency communication terminal. Its human fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, its compound eyes flickering with a sickly red light, while its right limb, mutated into a bone blade, swung frantically to deflect the incoming fire.

"It's uploading data," Scarface said, his voice trembling, his back pressed against the wall. "Facial scan... biological characteristics... and the genetic map of the left arm's Biological Armor!"

Lin Yuan's pupils contracted. A heavy Bolter round subsequently tore the Commander apart, and the fragments of the black robe scattered like crow feathers, but the system prompt sounded coldly: [Warning: Encrypted data packet has been uploaded to the Scavengers' main channel. Threat level re-evaluated: Extremely High.]

He had bought time, but at the cost of exposing his trump card.

The ventilation duct grille emitted a harsh scraping sound, the metal twisting and deforming as T-001 crashed into the center of the corridor. Its six compound eyes locked onto the flesh and blood covering the floor, and its mouthparts secreted digestive fluids that dripped onto the ground, sizzling into white smoke. It let out a high-pitched shriek, and its six articulated limbs moved rapidly, pouncing on the nearest Scavenger corpse. The sounds of tearing and bone-crushing were nauseating. From the other side of the B-1 level came heavy footsteps and the static noise of biological communication; the main force of the Scavengers, attracted by the bloody scent and combat signals, was urgently returning from the B-3 level and closing in.

"Now." Lin Yuan turned, his voice like a blade scraping across ice. "Go to the B-2 level."

Rat Eye had already pulled open the emergency access door, his movements precise to the millisecond. Obedience had become a conditioned reflex of muscle memory, and he had begun moving even before Lin Yuan finished speaking. Scarface followed behind, his right hand resting on the depleted EMP grenade, while his left hand gripped the communicator ripped from the Commander's corpse so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The corridor in front of the blast door on the B-2 level was permeated with a strange, eerie atmosphere, a mixture of stale machine oil and formalin. The countdown on the door ticked: [Plasma Meltdown Protocol: 00:14:23], the scarlet numbers looking like dripping blood in the dim light.

"Is this the trap you were talking about?" Lin Yuan looked at Scarface, his gaze as sharp as a scalpel.

Scarface's pupils contracted, and he swallowed hard. "Old Man Lin never plays by the rules... This countdown... it's too obvious..."

Lin Yuan reached out, his left shoulder's Biological Armor making contact with the access panel. Deep blue patterns lit up, pulsing like veins. The countdown stopped abruptly, emitting a pressure-release sound like a sigh.

[Authorization verified. Meltdown protocol disengaged. Welcome, heir of the lin clan bloodline.]

"The meltdown was a decoy," Lin Yuan whispered, his fingers feeling the faint pulse from the panel. "The real trap was the authorization verification. If it weren't for the lin clan bloodline, forcing a hack would have triggered a real plasma purge."

The blast door slid open, the hydraulic system letting out a heavy groan. The interior space was larger than expected. In the center stood an STC prototype three times the size of the ARK-07 foundry bench. Its surface was covered with heavy armor plating, rust and biological tissue coexisting in symbiosis. Pipelines wrapped around the base like veins, connecting to dozens of incubation pods containing floating biological tissue; the liquid inside was a turbid amber color, with beating organs faintly visible. The floor was scattered with bones from decades ago, wearing researcher uniforms, their skulls cracked—they seemed to have been drained of life during the startup process.

"By the God-Emperor..." Rat Eye knelt, his forehead pressed to the ground, his body trembling like chaff. "This is... this is the sacred forge..."

Scarface's breathing stopped, his pupils trembling violently. It was the mixture of greed and fear a gambler feels when seeing the ultimate pot. His fingers twitched unconsciously, forcing himself to suppress the urge to grab, the muscles at the corner of his eyes twitching unnaturally. This micro-expression did not escape Lin Yuan's eyes; it was a moment of weighing pros and cons, a precise calculation of the cost of betrayal.

"My lord..." Scarface's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against rusty metal. "It requires living human genetic samples as an activation key. The lin clan bloodline is just the access code; starting it requires... a price. The price of flesh and soul."

He had said it. Between "potentially embezzling" and "certainly being discovered and executed," the old wasteland hand chose honesty, or rather, chose the optimal survival strategy.

"I know." Lin Yuan walked toward the STC. The Biological Armor on his left arm resonated with heat as it approached the machine, and the implant under his skin pulsed like a second heart. The moment he touched the control panel, a sharp, stinging pain exploded from his nerve endings straight to his brain, as if thousands of red-hot needles were piercing his cortex simultaneously.

[STC Prototype - ARK-11 Limited Edition: Online]

[Startup Protocol: Requires biological tribute (Dual payment of biomass/psychic power)]

[Warning: LY-001 genetic marker detected, 67% match, unknown interaction risk present]

[Available production queues: Warhammer 40K Imperial standard equipment / Ark biotechnology (Underlying code conflict warning)]

The holographic projection popped up two options, the font twisted as if written in fresh blood:

A. Neuro-stabilizer (Delays gene-lock for 24 hours, personal survival priority)

B. Three sets of squad-level Carapace Armor (Team survival priority, risk at own discretion)

"Produce Carapace Armor," Lin Yuan said without hesitation, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse. "Three sets. Standard specifications."

[Confirmed. Consumption: 500g biomass, 15 points of psychic index. Warning: Short-term cognitive deviation risk. Side effect duration: Unknown.]

"Execute."

The base pipelines writhed like hungry snakes, emitting a hair-raising sucking sound. The Biological Armor on his left arm split open, and probes pierced his forearm to extract blood. Something deeper was being extracted—attention, willpower, a part of his soul was being forcibly torn out. The machine roared, and the biological tissue in the incubation pods was crushed and reorganized, fusing with metal, emitting a cracking sound like chewing bones. The grimdark aesthetic was materialized: external pipelines exposed, joints oozing a mixture of lubricant and biological slime, massive and rough, exuding the smell of machine oil and blood. Every piece of armor plating looked as if it had been peeled off a living creature.

Rat Eye trembled as he put on the Carapace Armor, which was two sizes too big. The external pipelines wrapped around his neck, the shoulder pads blocked half his field of vision, and the waist joints were too tight; he almost fell over when saluting, and the bulky gloves could not hold weapons. He kissed the forge runes with tears streaming down his face: "Divine gift... Living Saint... This is the armor of a Living Saint..."

Religious fanaticism made him ignore the discomfort of instrumental rationality; he was even more devout because of the restricted movement, interpreting the pain as a sacred trial.

Lin Yuan plugged in the communicator he had retrieved from beside the Commander's corpse. The STC decoded the encrypted audio. Through the static noise came the cold instruction of Martin Lin:

"...Lord Martin... Lin Yuan's biological characteristics confirmed... Target possesses high-value genetic marker... Squig herd has departed... Arriving at ARK-11 in six hours... Kill without mercy, recover biological samples..."

Greenskin advance team. Six hours. The countdown began.

The probe pulled out, drawing beads of blood that gathered into a small pool on the floor. But the feeling of being drained did not disappear; instead, it intensified, as if a piece of his brain had been gouged out.

[Production complete. God-Emperor's gaze: 1.0% → 1.2%]

[Side effect: Short-term mental erosion beginning. Estimated duration: 15-20 minutes.]

Golden light spots emerged at the edge of his vision, coalescing into a double-headed eagle pattern, watching coldly. That was no hallucination; it was the gaze of some existence.

"The Empire... forever..."

Auditory hallucination. The whispers of thousands of people echoed inside his skull, mixing with the original low hum into a maddening chorus. There were men and women, old and young, chanting strange slogans in unison. The text on the STC screen jumped into ornate Gothic font, and visions appeared: under a starry sky, giants in power armor slaughtered alien creatures, Bolters roared, Chainswords shrieked, the double-headed eagle banner fluttered in blood mist, and a figure on a golden throne cast a glance.

"My lord?" Scarface's voice was distant, as if coming through a layer of water. "You look terrible. Your pupils... are dilating..."

Lin Yuan shook his head, trying to dispel the illusion, but the double-headed eagle did not dissipate, and the whispering continued. He looked at his watch; twelve minutes had passed. The illusion remained, and it was becoming clearer. The runes on the armor plates seemed to be wriggling, and the whispers began to be interspersed with High Gothic prayers he could not understand.

This was the price. The continuous, real, cognition-altering price.

"Dismantle this machine," his voice was hoarse, like rusting gears grinding. "Separate it into transport modules. Leave within six hours. Scarface, you are responsible for the interface protocol; Rat Eye, guard the passageway."

Scarface gained secondary authority, his fingers dancing on the panel. This was both trust and a shackle. His eyes wavered between greed and awe, finally settling on survival instinct.

When the base separated to reveal the anti-gravity transport module, Lin Yuan's left arm suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain. The Biological Armor made contact with the STC interface, and a sensation like an electric current rushed to his brain—not pain, but some kind of... connection.

[Unknown neural link established...]

[LY-001 and Warhammer technology template match: 67%... Synchronizing...]

[Warning: Dominance conflict... Ark Protocol vs. Imperial Codex...]

Lin Yuan clutched his left arm and fell to his knees, sweat dripping onto the metal floor. The double-headed eagle suddenly opened its eyes. Amidst the blinding golden light, a clear declaration exploded, vibrating directly in the depths of his brainstem:

"You shall be the anvil... not the blade..."

The lights went out completely, leaving only the deep blue glow of the STC. In the darkness, an ancient existence scrutinized him through the neural link, weighing his soul.

From the ventilation duct came the triumphant roar of T-001, along with the heavy footsteps of the main force of the Scavengers breaking through the B-1 level defense line. Explosions rang out one after another.

Rat Eye, wearing ill-fitting Carapace Armor, tried to help him up, his movements as clumsy as a space suit dance, his shoulder pads hitting the wall with a dull thud. Scarface stared in horror at the half-dismantled machine, realizing he couldn't take this treasure without Lin Yuan, a trace of despair flashing in his eyes.

"My lord... the Scavengers... they're up... they have heavy weapons..."

Lin Yuan bit his tongue, using the pain to fight the hallucination. The golden double-headed eagle faded, but the whispering turned into background noise, existing permanently like tinnitus. He grabbed the frame of the STC and forced himself to stand, the neural link in his left arm bringing a continuous stinging sensation and a feeling of foreignness.

"Go." His voice was like sandpaper rubbing, yet unyielding. "Now. Take everything you can."

But he knew that some things had changed. The persistent auditory hallucinations, the stinging of the neural link, the 67% genetic match, and those strange prayers echoing in his mind—these were seeds buried in his body, taking root and sprouting.

The STC transport module emitted a clicking sound of unlocking, and the anti-gravity engine started with a hum. Outside the B-2 level bulkhead, the countdown for the heavy demolition device had already begun: [00:03:45].