Chapter 8: The Scent of Corruption

"Ugh————"

Crimson wine, half-digested chunks of protein, and skewered meat erupted from Zhou Yun's throat, pooling into a foul, stinking mess on the muddy ground.

Only after the freight train behind him clattered away along the dilapidated tracks did some color return to his pale face.

Last night, Old One-Eye, to thank him for taking the job, had treated him to a drink of frothing crimson liquid.

Afterwards, he had made good on his promise and bought a round for the hive workers in the bar, getting quite drunk himself in the process.

Old One-Eye's alcohol, fermented in who-knows-which dark sewer or cellar, contained fusel oils and harsh additives that only the spirits knew the quantity of.

Normally, just two cups would give him a headache; after several more, Zhou Yun felt as if a naked Angron, the Great Gork and Mork, and Hua Di Huang were wrestling fiercely inside his skull, a pain so blinding he could only crash in the bar's back room for the night.

The next morning, not yet fully awake, he had been ushered by Old One-Eye onto a swaying freight car.

This broken-down train was used to transport goods between the hive's various sectors; the tracks were so dilapidated they were barely maintained, making the ride terrifyingly unsteady.

Houses built by hive residents lined both sides of the tracks, so the journey practically wove through apartment buildings, with people even hanging laundry on the rails.

More than once, Zhou Yun felt the train was about to take itself and the nearby residents straight to meet Hua Di Huang.

"Ugh————"

After retching a few mouthfuls of sour water, Zhou Yun's throat offered only a dry, heaving nausea; nothing else would come up.

"In fact, I can provide you with a more efficient mode of transport."

The winged figure within the Bai Guang spoke, its wings fluttering:

"I can grant you flight through the skies."

"The hive has no sky—and you have this function?" Zhou Yun gave the figure in the Bai Guang a strange look.

"I need only inject a sliver of my psychic power into your body, and you shall grow wings————"

As it spoke, the figure within the Bai Guang fluttered the pure white wings behind it a few times.

"Stop, stop, stop; that sounds like some blasphemous corruption from the Warp."

Zhou Yun hastily waved his hands in refusal; he had no desire to become a winged bird-man.

If he suddenly sprouted wings, the odds of being mistaken for a saint or an angel were low, but the likelihood of being labeled a mutant was exceedingly high.

Even in the Lower Hive, a place akin to humanity's sewer, hive residents would occasionally sigh with relief when recalling the chaos and darkness of the Underhive.

At least they were not born in the Underhive; at least they possessed pure human skulls, not the grotesque, deformed heads of mutants.

The lowest level of the hive, the dark gutters beneath the Lower Hive, belonged to mutants, cultists, monsters, and madmen.

Compared to that place, the Lower Hive was practically a paradise world.

"Must you stand in the middle of the road alongside your vomit?"

A deep voice interrupted Zhou Yun's thoughts.

Two figures shrouded in heavy, thick hoods stood before him.

Zhou Yun blinked, realizing that he and his vomit were blocking the narrow alleyway.

"Mong, have you forgotten the angel's teachings? Maintain patience, be as patient as the god we devoutly serve."

The taller of the two hooded men admonished the one who had just spoken.

Then he turned his gaze to Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun stepped aside, clearing the path for the two.

The tall man gave Zhou Yun a slight nod of thanks, and the pair walked past him.

Whether it was his imagination or not, Zhou Yun faintly detected a sickly-sweet scent of rotting fruit drifting from the two as they brushed past him.

He seemed to hear a low buzzing of insects, and before his eyes, tiny fruit flies, dense as black grains of rice, appeared to flit by.

The Bai Guang in the corner of his eye glowed slightly brighter, and the pure white wings fluttered gently twice.

These hallucination-like visions vanished from Zhou Yun's sight.

"Not a hallucination," the winged figure within the Bai Guang said softly.

Most of the discomfort in Zhou Yun's body instantly dissipated.

He glanced at the spot where the two figures had disappeared, then simply shook his head.

Curiosity was not a virtue in this world; he had no interest in scrutinizing others' purity.

Moreover, those two had shown no malice toward Zhou Yun.

In his memory, no large-scale cult incidents had occurred in Ashford before the arrival of the Tyranids.

Therefore, unless they were Genestealers, Zhou Yun didn't even have the interest to glance at them twice.

He navigated the maze-like streets, following the map Lag had given him toward the location where the entrance to Old Sector Eight had been discovered.

Within a short while, Zhou Yun spotted the so-called entrance to Old Sector Eight.

The main reason was that it was far too conspicuous.

It was a collapsed building ruin that had smashed straight through the hive's artificial ground, sliding down into the deep void below.

According to the intelligence Old One-Eye provided, a scavenger had found a soda can wedged between buildings while picking through trash.

He had yanked the can out, completely failing to notice the warning sign beside it reading: "The nearby houses rely entirely on this soda can for support; do not touch."

Then, the moment the can was pulled out, the nearby houses collapsed with a crash, forcibly smashing a hole in the hive's artificial ground and exposing the buried Old Sector Eight beneath.

Regarding this, Zhou Yun could only say: Standard hive operations; he was used to it.

The vast majority of the hive's buildings were like spaghetti code written by vocational school graduates; they might only be functioning due to some bug.

If a hive building hadn't collapsed yet, it was best not to touch it; who knew if the reason it still stood was a soda can right in front of your eyes.

Zhou Yun walked a few steps and discovered that the area around the pit had already been cordoned off, seemingly by members of a local gang.

He shook his head; there was no rush to figure out how to get in just yet.

His head was still throbbing faintly, and nausea rose in his throat; it would be best to find a place nearby to rest first.

Zhou Yun knocked on the door of a crude residential house not far from the entrance to Old Sector Eight.

"Damn, why is another person showing up? I don't let strange people stay the night here."

A grumbling voice rose from within the residential building.

A clatter of metal sounded, and a Nest Worker's face, all bulging flesh, poked out through the door crack, sizing Zhou Yun up and down.

Zhou Yun said nothing, merely reaching his hand into his pocket.

"Kid, let me tell you, I don't take in people here; go find yourself a trash heap—"

Zhou Yun shoved a handful of lho cigarettes into the door crack; the man's expression instantly froze, then he forced out a rather ugly, beaming smile.

"Master, please, come inside quickly!"

(End of this chapter)