dmims Chapter 100 For My Loving Father
Chapter 100 For My Loving Father
Chapter 100 For My Loving Father
"For the sake of the loving father—for the sake of the rotting—"
Seeing that he had been exposed, the believer's previously timid expression turned into a twisted fanaticism as he roared and tried to pounce on the nearest soldier.
"Bang!"
Buck smashed his jaw with the butt of his rifle.
He swallowed the remaining blasphemous words, along with broken teeth, back down his throat.
Seeing this, the other two accomplices who were lying in wait tried to escape.
The guarded soldier accurately shot him in the knee with a laser gun and dragged him back.
"This is the price, advisor!"
Father Alpha, who had been on the verge of anger, finally erupted.
His electronic voice transmitter emitted a piercing electrical sound due to his emotional outburst.
Several mechanical tentacles thumped the air impatiently, saying, "I warned you long ago that the anointing ceremony is a sacred ritual that can only be performed by consecrated servants and priests."
"To allow these filthy mortals to come into contact with the sacred internal organs of the engine is an insult to Om Messiah!"
"Now you see? This is the consequence of letting unblessed hands touch the machine soul: corruption, betrayal!"
The priest's righteous eyes gleamed red.
He clearly harbors resentment over being forced to compromise and allow ordinary laborers to participate in maintenance.
In the dogma of Mechanics, this is tantamount to making a chimpanzee maintain a precision watch.
Faced with the priest's accusation, Lowe calmly said, "Alpha, look at this machine."
Rowe pointed to the enormous machine in front of him, painted black and fitted with mining chainsaws and bulletproof armor.
"We removed its standard harvester blade assembly, welded its safety valve shut, and installed the violent components that originally belonged to the mining vehicle."
"From the perspective of the STC standard template, these twelve machines are already dancing on the edge of blasphemy against technology."
He stared directly into the priest's gleaming prosthetic eye.
"Since we've already modified the machine's body for the sake of efficiency, why bother with the so-called purity of something as trivial as applying oil?"
"Moreover, your crew has been working overtime for 48 hours. If we didn't have the help of the workers, the production line would have stopped yesterday."
"We are racing against famine, Father. At this critical juncture, survival is the only truth."
Father Alpha's tentacles froze in mid-air.
The logic circuit told him that Loewy was right, even though the emotional module still felt angry.
He could only let out a helpless sigh, turn around to recalibrate the data, and remain silent.
"Boss, what should we do with them? Hang them up as a warning?" Buck asked, wiping the blood off the butt of his rifle.
Lo Wei glanced at the pocket watch in his hand.
The machine has been shut down for more than fifteen minutes.
At the current harvesting efficiency, every minute of downtime means several tons of grain will be harvested less.
Faced with the impending famine, these few tons of grain would be enough to buy the lives of these three Nurgle believers a thousand times over.
"Public display requires setting up a gallows and gathering workers to watch, which wastes more time and causes unnecessary panic."
Luo Wei crossed out the names of the three people in his notebook and then wrote "equipment maintenance consumables" in the margin.
"Shove them in."
Luo Wei's gaze passed over the trembling bodies and landed on the feed hopper of the harvester.
"The drive shaft was dry from the corrosion of the plague pus, and conventional mineral grease could not neutralize this blasphemous resistance."
He turned his gaze back to the three followers who were still trying to curse him with heretical doctrines.
"Since they are so eager to serve the Lord of Plague with their flesh and blood, then grant them their wish."
"Let their fatty offal and warm blood serve as the much-needed lubricant for this imperial machine."
Buck was slightly taken aback.
Then, a cruel smile appeared on his single eye.
"Understood, boss. This is called making use of waste."
The screams lasted only a few seconds before being swallowed up by the roar of metal.
Accompanied by the sound of bones cracking and the muffled sound of flesh being squeezed into the bearing gaps by the high-pressure pump, the previously dormant No. 8 harvester suddenly trembled violently.
Immediately afterwards, the engine let out an unprecedentedly high-pitched roar.
A dark red mist of blood, mixed with black smoke, gushed out from the exhaust vent.
The chainsaw assembly, which had been stuck, seemed to have received some kind of nourishment and started spinning wildly again without replacing any parts.
"The rotation speed has increased by 15% compared to before the malfunction. This... this doesn't make sense mechanically."
Father Alpha, standing to the side, stretched out his mechanical tentacles in utter astonishment and pressed them against the scorching hot hood, while the data stream in his prosthetic eye frantically scrolled by.
He had already prepared for a major overhaul and a lengthy purification ceremony.
According to the laws of physics, hundreds of kilograms of flesh and blood will only further clog the gears and will never be able to repair the corroded bearing.
However, the waveforms returned by the sensor were incredibly smooth.
"Praise be to Om Messiah, this is truly a miracle."
The priest turned his head and looked at Rowe with eyes filled with almost religious reverence.
Working with this agricultural consultant for only three months, the "miracles" he witnessed were more spectacular than all the military service he had performed in the past two hundred years combined.
He is even reshaping his understanding of the god of machines.
"Advisor, the machine spirit was originally screaming angrily, resisting the filth of the plague."
"But after devouring these three traitors, the machine spirit's rage subsided. It seemed—very satisfied with the taste of these sacrifices."
"It seems that for a desecrated machine, the blood of a traitor is sometimes more soothing than sacred machine oil."
Luo Wei remained completely unmoved.
For him, it doesn't matter whether it's due to physical lipid lubrication or the machine spirit truly manifesting itself.
In this universe, the truth is often more deadly than a lie.
He only needs to focus on the results:
Anything that can be moved is a good asset.
"Now that the machine spirit has eaten its fill, let's not let it sit idle. Run it at full power and keep harvesting!"
Around 6 a.m., a voice cried out, "Boss, come out quickly!"
Lowe, who had been sleeping for more than three hours in the passenger seat of the Chimera 1, heard Buck shouting outside the vehicle.
He rubbed his eyes and quickly regained consciousness.
Then I opened the car door.
On the eastern horizon, the first rays of sunlight were just rising, dispelling the acidic smog in the air.
Then, he looked into the distance and saw a floating convoy brazenly storming into the outer defense line.
The vehicle is painted with a gold double-headed eagle emblem.
Below, there is a more prominent family crest:
Two crossed rapiers and entwined thorns.
Executive Yuan, Valentine family.
Luo Wei squinted.
Lilith, the head of the guard, had reminded him before that the governor insisted on appointing him as the head of the eastern granary, which offended half of the executive council, especially the Valentine family.
The Valentine family had long coveted the eastern granary and had been trying to recommend their son, Young Master Valentine, to take charge of it. Unexpectedly, Lowe was successfully promoted to the position.
Lowe could guess with his own eyes that the Valentine family had suffered this loss. They certainly wouldn't dare do anything to Governor Alicia, but would only vent their boundless anger on him.
Therefore, during this period, Lowe was cautious in his words and actions, striving to complete the tithe task and eliminating any opportunity for the Valentine family to find fault with him.
Unexpectedly, the other party still took the initiative to come to us.
When soldiers come, generals will block them; when water comes, earth will dam it.
He quickly calmed down.
Accompanied by the deep, expensive hum of engines, a convoy of ornately painted vehicles slowly descended and came to a stop at the edge of the A-3 test field.
The hatch opened, and the automatic folding ladder slid down silently.
The young master of the Valentine family, like a prince who had stumbled into a slaughterhouse, stepped down from the first carriage.
He wore a pair of calfskin military boots, the black leather surface polished and waxed countless times, shining like a mirror.
When he landed, the spotless toes of his shoes clearly reflected the kneeling serfs and laborers around him.
He wore a well-tailored dark blue aristocratic military uniform with gold-embroidered piping that shone brightly.
His chest was covered with family medals, which, like layers of scales, made a crisp clinking sound with his movements.
This is the frivolous sound that only metal that has never experienced the ravages of war can produce.
As soon as he stood still, he frowned in disgust.
Wearing white gloves, she quickly raised a scented silk handkerchief and tightly covered her mouth and nose.
He squinted, breathing through his handkerchief, as if even a single breath of the air here would leave an indelible stain on his noble lungs.
Behind him, a fully armed squad of Valentine's family honor guards filed out.
The appearance of this group made Buck, the commander of the defense force standing behind Rowe, extremely envious.
Buck and his brothers wore patchwork armor salvaged from their fallen comrades, its surface pitted and corroded by acid rain.
The laser gun in his hand had a blue barrel from long-term excessive firing, and the gun was covered with magazines secured with duct tape.
Everyone is like a wild dog that has rolled in the mud.
In contrast, the honor guards of the Valentine family.
Their armor plates were spotless, and even the soft joints were coated with expensive maintenance oil.
The weapons they carried were not mass-produced, cheap goods.
Instead, they were the meticulously crafted explosive gun and the high-energy hell gun, bearing the family crest, things Buck could never have dreamed of.
The cooling vents on these firearms were so new they shone, and the scope lenses were free of any scratches.
Buck stared blankly at a guard with a molten bomb hanging from his waist.
That thing, it's said, can destroy an entire Zerg hive node with just one.
But these pampered soldiers hung it up like a decoration.
"Damn it—" Buck spat sourly, "The equipment these cowards have is enough to arm a reinforced company and take back the fallen grain-producing areas. Wearing such good armor, aren't they afraid of twisting their ankles while walking?"
This stark contrast created an eerie atmosphere at the scene.
On one side was a guard of honor armed to the teeth, yet reeking of perfume.
On one side are the wasteland veterans, their equipment tattered yet radiating murderous intent.
This is the epitome of an empire:
Someone is desperately fighting in the mud for half a piece of synthetic starch;
Some people, however, wore boots that were more valuable than the former's life, complaining that the mud was too dirty.
Even more striking is the presence of three servo-controlled skulls, suspended in mid-air.
The camera flashed red, capturing the young master's dashing figure from every angle.
Clearly, this was a carefully planned "show".
"Manager Luo Wei."
Valentine walked up to Rowe but did not reach out his hand.
Instead, he raised the parchment scroll in his hand with a condescending air.
"According to the Wartime Special Supervision Order signed by the Executive Yuan, given the current severe situation of the planetary food crisis and the numerous hidden dangers in the production process of the eastern granary—"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the harvesters stained with oil and blood, a deep disgust flashing in his eyes.
"The Executive Yuan has decided that I, Fabian Valentine's successor, will personally take over the command of the harvest in the eastern granary."
"To ensure that this batch of crucial supplies can be safely and efficiently stored."