Promethium burned in the boilers, turning into electricity that lit the dim yellow lamps and illuminated the district buried beneath layer upon layer of buildings.
Wildly sprawling stalls squeezed the roads narrow. Slop, garbage, grease, and other refuse had spilled into the streets. Zhou Yun did his best to avoid the filth as he threaded his way between the stalls.
Cooking oil splashed in fishy yellow sparks. Skewers of sizzling meat rolled over the grill, while beside the stove sat lead cans of boiled fat candy. Though laden with slow-acting toxins, it was still one of the few sources of sweetness in the city.
Zhou Yun only bought two greasy meat skewers and stuffed them into his mouth. So long as he did not look too closely into where the meat had come from, they were not bad food.
He took two cheap Lho-sticks from his pocket and tossed them into a grease-caked tin on the stall.
Then he headed west along the narrow street, passing beneath arches made of scrap metal and through the crowded masses until he reached a three-way intersection.
At the three corners of the intersection stood three towering statues carved from bluestone. They pierced through layers of cramped, chaotic buildings like three blades that had cleaved the hive city apart.
The identities of two of the statues had long been forgotten. Some said they were the first Ecclesiarchy priests to preach on planet Asphodel; others said they were the first two patriarchs of the Governor Flax family.
But no matter which story was true, after countless years, there was no longer any way to verify it.
Whether priest or governor, neither could withstand the erosion of ten thousand years.
Only the third statue—the tallest and holiest of them all—could be recognized by any Imperial citizen at a glance, prompting them to recite his sacred name with reverence.
Faint crimson sunlight spilled down from above the statue, over its unfurled wings, over the spear in its hand, and over its face, which was both merciful and stern.
Sanguinius, the demigod son of The Emperor, master of the Ninth Legion, the Archangel of the Imperium.
But Zhou Yun had not come to admire the majesty of Sanguinius's statue. He had come for the tiny tavern beneath its spearpoint.
At the place indicated by Sanguinius's sharp spear stood a crude shack built from composite wood and quick-setting concrete.
A sign hung from the shack, painted with a cup full of red liquor. Beside it was the tavern's name: Spearpoint.
Before Zhou Yun even entered, he heard a burst of noisy shouting and cursing from inside.
The tavern's wooden door was kicked open by a group of people dressed like typical hive workers. They dragged a scrawny man with an ugly gray face and a local gang's rat tattoo on his cheek outside.
"Rag, did you fucking eat mutant shit?"
The lead hive worker cursed as his fists pounded the ugly-faced gang member's head again and again.
Zhou Yun glanced over and saw the gang member stretch a hand toward him, crying out, "Brother Zhou Yun! Big Brother Zhou Yun, save me!"
Even while begging for help, he did not forget to talk tough. "This is my brother Zhou Yun! He's got pull with our gang boss! Just you wait!"
The hive workers stopped hitting him and all looked up at Zhou Yun.
Zhou Yun shrugged, then kicked the gang member in the head.
"Give him my share too. I'll buy you drinks later."
At the mention of drinks, the workers erupted in cheers, and the blows raining down on the gang member's head became even more vigorous.
Zhou Yun pushed open the tavern door and walked up to the bar.
Behind the bar stood the owner of Spearpoint Tavern, a burly one-eyed man.
Rumor had it that he had once gone to the Upper Hive by less-than-legal means and lost an eye there. Everyone nearby called him Old One-Eye.
That name always made Zhou Yun think of the infamous Tyranid butcher.
"Smoke? Drink?" Old One-Eye asked with an Lho-stick hanging from his mouth.
Lho-sticks were not real tobacco. They were actually a byproduct of the promethium industry, essentially an addictive anesthetic flavored with tobacco essence. Inhaling too much of it could even make someone go blind.
But the stuff was cheap. It let people temporarily forget their bleak lives and helped hive workers endure their unbearable high-pressure jobs. Naturally, it had become a necessity for many city dwellers, even a form of currency.
Under Augustus Flax's complete neglect, order in the city's lower levels had long since collapsed. It was no better than Gotham City in the 2000s.
The difference was that while the governor had also lost his parents at an early age, he was not about to put on a freakish bodysuit and become a nighttime vigilante.
More often than not, Lho-sticks were more useful than the currency issued by the governor.
So Zhou Yun waved a hand, signaling Old One-Eye to pour him a drink.
Old One-Eye wiped a less-than-clean glass and slid Zhou Yun a cup of liquor bubbling with crimson foam.
Of course, it could not possibly be expensive red wine. It was merely homemade liquor Old One-Eye had brewed from promethium industry waste.
There might even have been some strange ingredients mixed in. Who knew how much technological trickery and nasty additives it contained.
But after spending so long in the hive city, Zhou Yun had learned to look the other way.
As long as he did not know what was in it, he could down a whole cup without batting an eye.
"What mutant-bred shit did that bastard Rag do this time?" Zhou Yun asked, glancing at the gang member still getting beaten outside.
That guy was named Rag, a low-level member of the Underhive Rat Gang. He was also the one who had sold Zhou Yun the location of that abandoned district.
"Who knows? He's always asking for a beating. If he gets one, he gets one."
Old One-Eye spoke around his cigarette.
"The God-Emperor teaches us to be honest, but he'll probably never learn."
Zhou Yun nodded in wholehearted agreement.
"Oh, any new news these past few days?" he asked after knocking back half a cup of crimson liquor.
"Something fresh. A scavenger discovered the abandoned Old Sector Eight."
Old One-Eye answered.
"Oh, news from the neighboring district. The Ark Gang, the one that rose up in recent years, has taken over the neighboring district."
"The Ark Gang..." Zhou Yun muttered. He seemed to remember that Genestealer crushed into a bug pancake muttering that name.
So Zhou Yun searched his memories for information about the Ark Gang.
It was a gang with some religious leanings, one that had only risen in recent years. It had originally made its fortune far from Zhou Yun's district, only expanding into the area recently.
Rumor had it that the gang leader was a devout believer in The Emperor. He claimed that he was delivering punishment upon evildoers for The Emperor.
He also said that demons among the stars were about to stretch their claws toward Asphodel and swallow the entire planet whole.
Only by joining the Ark Gang and building an ark to the stars could one ascend and be saved when the demons among the stars descended.
Huh.
Zhou Yun froze for a moment.
He carefully turned those words over in his mind.
An ark, The Emperor's guidance, the day of descent, ascension, and salvation... this fucking felt way too familiar.
Could that Ark Gang be a front for the Genestealer Cult?
Zhou Yun's eye twitched slightly as he began considering whether he should run and move somewhere else.
Just then, a howl rose from outside.
"Brother Zhou Yun, how could you just stand by and watch me die?!"
Zhou Yun punched that ugly face.
That's it for today. I'm off to paint Gunroaches.
Before you continue