Chapter 72

He was a kind-hearted man who couldn't bear to see others suffer.

So, after draining every last thought from Tot’s mind, Alvin ended his suffering.

After using psychic energy to erase the bloodstains left in the room, he casually tossed Tot’s corpse into the compost heap in the backyard—somewhat of a waste-to-resource reuse.

Next, Alvin reset the “Static Veil” to mimic Tot’s appearance.

From this moment on, he was Tot—even the person who knew Tot best, if appearing here now, could not distinguish the two.

To ensure his disguise left no trace, Alvin went to great lengths, learning every detail—from which hand Tot used to wipe his ass to which leg he led with when walking.

Their builds were also similar, and with thorough understanding, he wouldn’t be exposed in the short term.

He flipped through the documents in the room and the newly delivered files.

Alvin glanced over them briefly and immediately spotted the pattern: anyone sent to “Ironstone Town” shared striking similarities.

The Hammer Gang lured lower nest residents to join by distributing free supplies, categorizing them into two groups based on three criteria: age, physical condition, and disability status.

Young adults with good physical condition, aged twelve to forty, and without disabilities were accepted into the gang after screening and given the title “Member”—Emerich was a typical example.

Those rejected were either too old, too young, or mostly disabled. Once a hundred were gathered, each district’s minor leader would uniformly escort them to “Ironstone Town” outside the nest.

What happened to those people after they arrived at Ironstone Town remained unknown.

In just the region under Tot’s jurisdiction, six transports had already been carried out—in other words... six hundred people had been sent to Ironstone Town and vanished without a trace!

“Sacrifice...” Alvin’s emotions spiraled out of control; he crumpled the paper into a ball, veins bulging on his forehead as he suppressed his inexplicable rage: “Their purpose was sacrifice!”

In just one district, nearly a thousand people had been sent to Ironstone Town.

The minor leaders overseeing such districts numbered at least hundreds across the lower nest controlled by the Hammer Gang.

Conservatively estimated, the lower nest had lost at least tens of thousands of people—all sent to Ironstone Town, none ever returning—this alone spoke volumes.

There could be no other explanation: they were being sacrificed!

Seeing through the issue to its essence, Alvin narrowed his eyes and murmured: “To send so many out of the nest without interference from Enforcers... it must be connected to ‘Rashid.’”

It sounded like a question, but in his heart, he already had a suspicion.

Who else, besides that heir of the Hadley family—Rashid—could control the nest’s Enforcers and make them turn a blind eye?

“Good news: at least now I have a direction to investigate.”

He tossed the crumpled paper away, rubbed his aching temples, and let out a bitter smirk: “Bad news: tens of thousands have already been sacrificed.”

With such a massive number of sacrifices, who knew how far the cult had grown?

Now, he could only hope... the Emperor’s mercy would descend.

Otherwise, if the difficulty level rose further, he couldn’t even imagine how horrific the scene would become.

What divine right did the planet Lother have? A tiny world, barely missing Eldar and Orks, nearly completed the entire alien species catalog!

“Oh, almost forgot—the Tau.” Alvin mocked himself.

He reorganized the scattered documents; now came the waiting.

“If only I had more information about Ironstone Town...”

Alvin sighed wistfully, sat back down, and poured himself another drink.

Neither Tot’s words nor the documents in the room described what Ironstone Town was truly like.

The only information he’d extracted from Tot was that fifty years ago, Ironstone Town had been a vital mine for the Lother nest—but then an unprecedented massacre occurred.

The planetary defense forces, under orders from the Governor of Galken, slaughtered every resident of the Ironstone Town mine.

Since then, the Ironstone Town mine had been abandoned until it was reclaimed as a Hammer Gang stronghold.

“Why did the Governor of Galken massacre the Ironstone Town mine? What was he hiding?”

“Necrons? No, impossible.”

“If it were Necrons, Lother would have fallen long ago.”

“If not Necrons, then what?”

Following this line of thought, Alvin’s pupils shrank slightly, as if a cold dread had seized him: “Just how deep a vortex have I been dragged into?!”

He suddenly realized: from the cult’s emergence to the changes within the Lother nest, this entire chain of events was far more complex than it appeared!

The secrets hidden within Ironstone Town might be... far more intricate than he imagined!

The implications were chilling.

As Alvin’s thoughts churned, a voice suddenly entered his ear.

“Don’t move!”

Instantly, a hard object pressed against his lower back; from the feel, it was almost certainly a firearm.

“Friend, stay calm!”

Alvin spoke in a low tone, raising both hands to show he posed no threat.

The fact that the intruder had slipped in silently proved one thing: this was no ordinary person.

“I ask, you answer. Understood?”

The person behind him, gun pressed against Alvin’s spine, spoke coldly: “If you dare withhold even a single detail, by the name of the Emperor, I swear you’ll experience the Empire’s cruelest punishment. Now tell me your name and identity!”

Fate turns full circle—karma strikes?

Alvin froze for half a second, then caught a familiar incense scent.

Wait—this aroma... He paused, stunned, until the figure behind him pressed the barrel harder against his spine: “Answer my question!”

Alvin’s expression turned complex: this uniquely distinctive incense smelled nearly identical to that used by Imperial Cult priests.

Coincidentally, he’d smelled it just recently on someone in the mid-nest.

“Um... is this Lady Winifred Winslet, the Inquisitor?”

Alvin did his best to appear harmless, speaking tentatively.

Click!

The sound of a bolt-action round chambering.

He knew that sound too well—bolt-action chambered without hesitation? Were Inquisitors always this decisive?

He didn’t want to die by his own side’s bullet during an infiltration—terrified, he blurted out: “Wait! Inquisitor, don’t shoot! I’m Alvin Valshus! I’m on your side!”

“What?”

The figure behind him froze, clearly stunned by the revelation.

“Didn’t we meet this morning in the mid-nest?” Alvin spoke in a rapid-fire rush, terrified that any delay would cost him his head.