Chapter 357: Warhammer: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Bug Race

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Butcher stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building, watching the column of infected below being burned, and sighed deeply.

He had always been a normal human, with normal emotions and morals.

Watching so many living people, like numb livestock, be thrown into the fire and burned alive, his heart was filled with pity and torment.

But he also knew this was already the best method available at present.

The Chaos Plague had no cure; once infected, there was no turning back.

If these infected were not completely eradicated, the plague would spread endlessly, eventually destroying all of Brevis.

Lin En's methods were cold and cruel, even called "atrocities," but they were the only way to save more people.

"Governor Sir, everything is proceeding according to plan." Butcher turned around and said respectfully to Lin En behind him.

Lin En stood in the shadows, no expression on his face, simply watching the flickering flames below in silence.

"How is the screening of the healthy population going?" Lin En asked.

"Five hundred million have been screened and all transferred to the isolation zone in Middle City." Butcher replied.

"At this rate, in another ten days we can gather the remaining 1.7 billion."

"Very good." Lin En nodded, "Speed up; there are more and more infected."

"Yes."

Lin En said nothing more and turned to leave the rooftop.

His back disappeared into the dark corridor, looking lonely and resolute.

He knew his hands were stained with blood.

But he had no choice.

In this dark, cruel 40K universe, to survive and protect those he cared about, he had to become colder than anyone else.

……

However, just as Lin En was letting loose and handling the plague and heretics with great vigor, several gazes hidden in the deepest shadows were silently watching all of this.

In an inconspicuous corner of Bottom City, a black-clad man in tattered robes was using an encrypted communication device to pass information to another black-clad man.

They relayed the messages segment by segment, one after another, finally flowing to Saint Galus Castle.

"Target: Keli Feng, Governor of Brevis."

"Abnormal behavior, secretly founding the 'Plague Cleansing' cult, using large amounts of non-human armed force to handle the plague."

"Cult members suspected of possessing non-human characteristics, specifics pending investigation."

"Evidence destroyed, requesting further instructions."

After sending the last message, the black-clad man without hesitation tore off the mask on his face, revealing a face covered in pustules and rot.

Deep in his eyes glimmered a trace of blue light, and one day before acting he had deliberately infected himself with the plague, infiltrating the cremation squad of the Plague Cleansing cult.

He glanced at the cult believers approaching in the distance, a resolute smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He turned and walked step by step toward the blazing cremation pit.

The flames instantly devoured his body, turning him and all the evidence into ashes together.

The cult believers not far away merely glanced at it indifferently, without any suspicion.

Every day countless desperate infected voluntarily chose to jump into the cremation pit to end their suffering.

Even the Gene Thief with keen perception failed to notice this deathbed informant.

When the informant's body was reduced to ashes in the burning of the cremation pit.

The encrypted message had already traveled along the most secret path, relayed layer by layer into the deep secret chamber of Saint Galus Castle.

The stone door of the secret chamber was several meters thick, isolating all the clamor and light of Upper City in the Nest Capital.

Several yellowed sheets of parchment were spread on the stone table, the writing on them as if "coming alive," constantly shifting, automatically recording all recent anomalies in Bottom City.

The spread speed of the plague, the expansion trajectory of the Plague Cleansing cult, and those "Purification Apostles" who acted swiftly and had keen perception.

Luna stood before the stone table, her pale fingers lightly tracing the four characters "non-human characteristics," a smile curling at the corner of her mouth full of coldness.

She wore a blue-black gown, and under the shadow of her hood, the half-mask glowed with a faint golden light.

"You will eventually pay the price for your arrogance, Lin En..."

Her voice was soft, but her tone was more venomous than any poisonous snake.

Every piece of information on the parchment seemed to confirm her judgment.

The man Lin En Ke'er Wa Na had relied on non-human power to handle trouble from beginning to end.

Before, it was Frost Dragons and Cold Soldiers disguised as native mythic creatures; now the plague was controlled by Gene Thieves.

In Luna's grand plan, this plague sweeping Bottom City was never more than an appetizer.

At most it would disrupt order in Brevis and drain Lin En's energy, but could not touch his foundation.

What could truly drag Lin En into irreparable ruin was his growing reliance on the Tyranids.

From the Forbidden Wall to Kal II, and now to Brévès Bottom City, every time he resolved a crisis, he touched deeper upon the Empire's taboos.

Paper can never wrap fire; as long as he still dared to use these monsters, there would eventually be a day of exposure.

And all she had to do was give it a gentle push, making this fire burn faster and fiercer, ultimately burning Lin En along with all his secrets into ashes.

"Plague Cleansing cult..." Luna's fingers clenched hard, the parchment was actually gripped until blackened, emitting a pained howl.

"Perfect, I'll use it as the first fuse."

She raised her head and said something to the shadows in the Mishishi; in the darkness, someone immediately bowed to receive the order and withdrew soundlessly.

The Mishishi returned to silence, with only Luna's laughter drifting softly, carrying the coldness of victory assured.

At the same time, the Central Starport in Brevitas Main Hive Upper City was shrouded in a heavy silence.

The polished alloy floor clearly reflected people's silhouettes; in the distance, gilded spires pierced the cloud layer, with countless elevators running up and down between Upper City and Bottom City.

Those were not merely elevators, but stairs that many could never cross in a lifetime.

There was no lingering cooking fumes or stench of rot in the air as in Bottom City, only the clear and cold breath of disinfectant and ozone intertwined.

This was prosperity beyond the imagination of Bottom City's people in a lifetime, a sanctuary said to be accessible only to the "Upper Class."

Yet at this moment, the Bottom City people setting foot on this land had not a shred of envy or excitement on their faces, only numbness deep in their bones.

They were dressed in rags, sallow and emaciated, driven by armed police onto the helipad, lined up in a long queue stretching beyond sight.

Among them were white-haired elders, youths still bearing childishness, and women with vacant eyes.

In Nest Capital, anyone between sixteen and fifty years old with no obvious disability fell within the scope of the Tithe conscription.

No one told them where they were going, nor what they would face in the future.

But every chosen person knew clearly in their heart that the moment they stepped onto the boarding gangway, they could never return.

The average battlefield survival time of Imperial Star Realm Army recruits was fifteen hours.

Those who survived the first campaign numbered less than one-tenth.

These two figures alone fully embodied the cruelty of the Warhammer Universe.