Techmarine

In the corridors of the frigate Dagger.

Ogedei and Talal walked side by side.

Ogedei's brows were tightly furrowed, as if he were pondering a decision of great difficulty.

After a long while, Ogedei, seated in his wheelchair, looked up at his old friend.

"Talal, I think it is time."

"Time for what?" Talal, who knew exactly what had been weighing on Ogedei's mind these past days, asked, feigning ignorance.

"Locke's rate of learning exceeds our imagination. He is growing stronger by the day, stepping closer to becoming a true Astartes, and for me, it is about time I was put into a tin can."

Talal sighed.

In the beginning, Ogedei had tried; without his legs, he had attempted to fight using only his upper body, but his combat effectiveness was far inferior to when he was whole.

The White Scars were not like the Iron Hands, those fanatics of mechanical augmentation. Kunto Anastasio was a master in the field of biology, yet even he could not provide Ogedei with a pair of prosthetics capable of fully replacing the function of his legs.

One had to understand that Ogedei's requirements for prosthetics were not merely the ability to walk or run; they had to be capable of withstanding the high-intensity combat expected of a Space Marine.

Only the Iron Hands could achieve such a thing.

And as for entering a Dreadnought, on a personal level, Talal was unwilling.

When the Adeptus Mechanicus designed the early Dreadnoughts, their thinking was pragmatic: to let those Space Marines whose limbs were too severely damaged to be worth repairing exert their final bit of value. After all, the vast combat knowledge and near-reflexive combat skills stored within a Space Marine's brain were an incalculable treasure.

Therefore, the early models of Dreadnoughts did not consider the pilot's physiological comfort at all. Space Marines, stripped of their limbs and left only with their torsos and heads, were imprisoned within, soaked in the machine's nutrient fluid. Various neural interfaces were plugged into their bodies, transmitting countless feedback signals directly to their flesh and blood in the form of intense electrical impulses. While the pilot might be fine during periods of stasis, during combat, they felt the agony of their surroundings almost every moment.

After a high-intensity battle, this iron coffin would often contain nothing but a charred corpse, only to be replaced by another crippled Space Marine.

Ogedei still had his hands, but to enter a Dreadnought, his hands would have to be removed as well.

Talal said, "It is still too early to discuss this, Ogedei. There are no Dreadnoughts on the Dagger for you to use; your iron coffin is not here."

Ogedei nodded, then changed the subject. "Have you noticed? Locke has been visiting Kunto quite frequently lately."

"I've noticed as well. Kunto's attitude toward Locke is clearly different from how he treats the rest of our legion. I don't know what that Tech-priest is up to."

Ogedei pondered for a moment, recalling some of Fu Qinghai's miraculous displays back on Cheslatan, and a vague answer began to form in his mind.

Time rewound to two weeks ago.

Fu Qinghai carried a briefcase, entering Kunto's laboratory on the ship with practiced ease.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw a massive iron cabinet standing next to the workbench.

Inside the cabinet, a giant greenskin monster was fixed in a spread-eagled position.

It was an Ork, long since dead.

What was astonishing was that the muscles and organs beneath its thick skin seemed to have been corroded and hollowed out by something, leaving only a complete set of skin hanging on the skeleton.

It was skin and bones in the truest sense, without a shred of meat left.

It looked exceptionally eerie.

The diminutive Master Kunto appeared from the shadows of the equipment like a ghost.

Seeing Fu Qinghai looking up at the skin-and-bone greenskin hanging in the iron cabinet.

Kunto gave a raspy laugh and said, "Experiment number 1923 is concluded. 37, take this specimen away; it might frighten our little friend."

Servitor 37, standing to the side, heard the command and hurriedly joined others to push the iron cabinet away.

Fu Qinghai shrugged, not bothering to explain. Having watched so many imaginative Hollywood gore films in his past life, how could he be frightened by the skin and bones of an Ork? Besides, there were even more bizarre alien biological materials in Ogedei's armory.

Fu Qinghai walked over to a machine tool, placed his briefcase on it, and opened it to reveal a standard-issue Imperial Space Marine Bolter.

Fu Qinghai seemed to have a plan already drafted in his mind. He silently took out the Bolter, removed the magazine, disassembled the action, and began to operate the machine tool with practiced skill.

Fu Qinghai had long since discovered that, unlike the professional courtesy and occasional impatience Kunto showed toward Ogedei and Talal, the Tech-priest was unusually patient with him.

He not only allowed him to enter and leave the laboratory at will, but when Fu Qinghai showed curiosity about the laboratory equipment, he even allowed him to try operating it.

This was extremely rare for a Tech-priest.

Fu Qinghai certainly did not believe he shared any special blood ties with Kunto.

Fu Qinghai felt that Kunto's patience toward him was more like the patience one might show toward a rare experimental subject.

When Fu Qinghai came to the laboratory, Kunto would always stand quietly to the side with his hands behind his back, carefully observing Fu Qinghai's every move, just as a researcher from his past life might observe the behavior of a lab mouse.

He was also generous with his patience in answering the various questions Fu Qinghai posed.

At this moment.

Kunto appeared silently beside Fu Qinghai again, hands behind his back, looking down at Fu Qinghai's skillful and busy work, and asked curiously:

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I intend to widen the magazine well, and then make a new magazine myself to insert into it." Fu Qinghai pointed to the lower end of the weapon.

He then added, "A drum magazine."

A drum magazine... Kunto understood, then asked, "Where are your blueprints?"

Fu Qinghai tapped his own head with a finger: "In here."

You've got to be kidding me... That was Kunto's first reaction.

He then stared intently at Fu Qinghai's hands, observing him operate the rotary blades, drills, welding torches, and various machining tools on the workbench, meticulously processing the materials in his grasp.

Kunto's eerie green mechanical ocular slowly rotated, and the more he watched, the more his heart pounded with alarm.

When describing someone with steady hands, one usually says they have the hands of a surgeon.

But Fu Qinghai's hands at this moment could no longer be described merely as those of a surgeon.

His hands were essentially two precision mechanical arms with errors measured in mere microns.

According to the readings provided by his mechanical ocular, without blueprints or modeling and operating entirely by hand, the components Fu Qinghai finished had not the slightest deviation. The aperture, hole position, shaft diameter, cylindricity, runout, and dimensions—the readings for every parameter were perfectly uniform.

Kunto looked at Fu Qinghai's hands, keeping his composure.

The fingers were long, slender, flexible, and powerful; they were flesh and blood, no doubt.

He looked up again at Fu Qinghai's eyes.

His black pupils were focused intently on the work in his hands, without a hint of distraction.

They were biological eyes, no doubt.

Kunto looked down, somewhat incredulous, at the mechanical tentacles slowly extending from beneath his robes.

So, where exactly was the problem?

Magos Kunto did not know of the existence of the Tony Stark electronic backup in Fu Qinghai's mind, which could automatically complete the modeling process. Coupled with the White Scars' unique meditation methods and intensive training, Fu Qinghai had deepened his control over his superhuman physique.

Thus, he was left completely baffled.

The Tech-priest quietly steadied his breathing and secretly recorded in his mind:

Experiment Log: 17-6. The test subject exhibits superhuman hand-eye coordination and limb control, suspected to be related to the mutation brought about by the Blood of Kunto.

Regardless of the turmoil in Kunto's mind, Fu Qinghai had already methodically completed the modification of the magazine.

He held the gun in one hand and gently supported it with the other.

"Click!"

With a crisp, sharp sound, the cylindrical drum magazine snapped cleanly into the weapon's frame.

The Mass-reactive Bolter Shells were already packed into the drum. Fu Qinghai rotated his wrist, testing the center of gravity and balance of the gun, tried racking the bolt, and took aim, but did not pull the trigger.

This was, after all, Kunto's laboratory, not a firing range.

Kunto saw Fu Qinghai's intention; replacing the curved magazine with a drum was meant to enhance the sustainability of his firepower.

He spoke up to remind him: "This is an Imperial Standard Bolter produced by the Forge World of Agripinaa. The barrel has a rated service life; after switching to a drum magazine, the barrel life may be shortened."

Fu Qinghai said: "Of course, I know, Magos, but I believe that compared to a breakthrough in burst firepower, mere service life is not a significant issue."

Fu Qinghai had thought about it carefully. Although the Bolter also had a long range and some sniper variants with lengthened barrels, its primary combat scenario remained within visual range—or more precisely, short-range firefights.

For short-range firefights, the volume of fire and the sustainability of that fire were far more important than precision.

Theoretically, unauthorized modification of Imperial standard ordnance was not permitted.

The Forge Worlds of the Imperium had to consider procurement costs, logistics, maintenance, and repairs when producing ordnance. A style like Fu Qinghai's, changing a curved magazine to a drum, was actually more similar to the later Chaos Space Marines. The military-industrial system had to consider comprehensive costs, while the warrior had to consider their own battlefield survival; neither was wrong.

As a Tech-priest, Kunto should have stopped this behavior and reported it upon seeing it.

However, the Space Marine Legions possessed immense autonomy within the entire Imperial military system. Not to mention a small matter like modifying a gun, they had done far more egregious things than that.

Compared to model legions like the Luna Wolves, Ultramarines, and Emperor's Children, Jaghatai Khan and his White Scars were known among the twenty Space Marine Legions for being mavericks and non-conformists.

But even for mavericks, things like DIY-ing one's own weapons were more common among the Chaos Space Marines in the Eye of Terror, especially this kind of drum magazine modification, which was a favorite of many Chaos Space Marines.

Ogedei and the others couldn't be bothered to care how Fu Qinghai chose to personalize his firearms.

Kunto couldn't be bothered either. Compared to a single Bolter, he was more curious about why his precious test subject had thought to modify the firearm.

And about the powerful, near-self-taught learning ability Fu Qinghai had displayed during this time.

Fu Qinghai ejected a Mass-reactive Bolter Shell from the drum, held it in his hand to examine it, and let his thoughts wander.

The Bolter was a classic weapon.

It was the standard-issue ranged weapon for Space Marines, and its status as a classic was no less than that of Power Armor. Depending on size and model, there were derivatives like the Bolt Pistol and Bolt Carbine.

In terms of appearance, the Bolter's receiver was square and blocky, and the entire body was short, thick, and heavy, filled with the unique violent aesthetic of Warhammer 40K. Compared to the massive frame of a Space Marine in armor, it looked more like a submachine gun in his hand, though some Astartes Monks with immense arm strength could indeed fire it one-handed.

In terms of principle, like many firearms from his past life, the bullet was the core technology of the Bolter. The core principle of the bolter round lay in its two-stage propulsion technology: there were two stages of propellant behind the warhead. The first stage ignited upon firing, providing the initial velocity to push the bolter round out of the barrel, no different from a standard firearm. The second stage of propellant continued to burn within the casing, allowing the bullet to be continuously accelerated after leaving the muzzle.

Therefore, every bullet was similar to a small rocket.

The technical principle of this two-stage propulsion was not particularly "black tech." Fu Qinghai estimated that the military-industrial giants of his past life on Earth might have been able to develop it if they spared no cost in their research.

But there was absolutely no need. As a light infantry weapon, the Bolter's manufacturing cost was too high for the armies of his past Earth, and its power was severely excessive.

The opponent of a light infantry weapon was also human. Given the fragile nature of the human body, if the warhead could penetrate body armor and then tumble inside the body to create a cavity, that power was sufficient.

There was no need to blow a person into fragments.

But for the various alien races with outer shells and the techno-barbarians clad in shields throughout the Warhammer universe, the power of the Bolter was just barely enough.

Fu Qinghai held his new gun, feeling delighted as he prepared to leave.

Kunto, however, called out to stop him.

"Little Locke, I have sensed that you are quite gifted. Do you have any interest in becoming a Techmarine?"

"A Techmarine?" Fu Qinghai was stunned.

After a moment of thought, he nodded and said, "I would be very willing, Master."

Inside the training cage.

"So, Kunto took the initiative to ask if you wanted to become a Techmarine?" Ogedei asked in a deep voice.

"Yes," Fu Qinghai answered concisely.

"Hmm..." Talal stroked his chin. "I think this is a good thing. What do you think, Ogedei?"

Ogedei smiled; he had long anticipated this moment. The powerful, almost self-taught learning ability regarding machinery and technology that Fu Qinghai had displayed on Cheslatan remained fresh in his memory.

A smug glint flickered in his eyes as he said, "Of course, this was all within my expectations."

Techmarines, like Apothecaries and Librarians, are specialized roles within the Astartes Legions.

These specialists are first and foremost Space Marines, possessing the capabilities and traits common to all Space Marines, yet each has their own areas of expertise.

Apothecaries and Librarians have been introduced previously.

Techmarines are Space Marines selected from within their legions and sent to forge worlds like Mars for advanced training. They typically paint the gear symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus onto their shoulder pads alongside their own legion's insignia to signify their status or to express their faith in the Omnissiah.

The Luna Wolves, Ultramarines, and Emperor's Children are relatively balanced legions that possess all types of specialists.

Other legions are not like this. For instance, the Thousand Sons of Magnus the Red are almost all psykers; though the legion's total headcount is low, their combat effectiveness is actually higher because every member is effectively a Librarian.

Similarly, the White Scars and Blood Angels are legions that produce many Librarians. The genes of these legions are naturally sensitive to the Warp and the Aether, and their home worlds often have traditions of studying mysterious phenomena or practicing feudal superstitions.

This makes it easy for them to produce legion Librarians.

Conversely, some legions are composed more of materialistic, science-minded men, such as the Iron Hands, Iron Warriors, and Salamanders.

These legions produce many Techmarines; one could even say that everyone is a Techmarine, such as the Iron Hands who specialize in bionic augmentation, and the Salamanders who are all master smiths.

In the White Scars, Librarians are not rare, but Techmarines are extremely uncommon.

Scarcity makes things valuable. To the White Scars, a Techmarine is not just a curiosity for the legionaries to look at, but a precious and rare asset to the legion.

Fu Qinghai arrived at the familiar laboratory and bowed slightly to Kunto, saying:

"Master, the legion has agreed."

Kunto's raspy chuckle came from beneath the shadow of his hood: "Heh, of course they would agree. The White Scars are not a legion known for producing Techmarines."

Normally, a Techmarine would need to study on Mars for three to five years, but with Mars likely having already fallen into a war zone, Fu Qinghai would naturally be studying under Kunto.

Learning under a Tech-priest of the rank of Biologis is a privilege that many ordinary Techmarines never receive.

Fu Qinghai detected the faint disdain for the White Scars in the Tech-priest's tone, but he said nothing, simply following Kunto silently to a massive bookcase filled with stored texts.

Fu Qinghai looked up; inside were classic Imperial parchment books. Some within the Imperium of Man believe that using books and documents made of this material possesses the special property of being immune to the electronic sorcery interference of certain Warp daemons.

The parchment is a special hide produced in the biochemical factories of agricultural worlds, tough and resistant to decay.

The large bookshelf also contained paper books preserved from ancient times; every such book is a precious and fragile artifact.

These ancient books might have been passed down from the era of Terra, or they might have been spoils of war seized by the Imperial Expeditionary fleets after reclaiming other human colonies.

Collecting human knowledge scattered across the galaxy is likewise an unshirkable duty of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Whether they are willing to share this knowledge, however, is another matter entirely.

Sealing away certain dark technologies or researching them in secret has always been a tradition of the Adeptus Mechanicus; this massive organization, which originated on Mars, is sometimes not of one mind with the Imperium of Man.

Beneath Master Kunto's dark red robes, various models of mechanical arms, mechadendrites, and mechanical tentacles were always emerging, making Fu Qinghai wonder how much of the old man's frail, organic body had already been replaced by components and gears.

Several mechanical tentacles pulled a few books from the shelf and placed them in front of Fu Qinghai.

They were all thick, heavy tomes.

Mostly parchment books.

Fu Qinghai watched the mountain of books in front of him grow higher and higher, and his expression could not help but turn serious.

Finally, I can read to my heart's content!

With a sense of curiosity and the anticipation of having his thirst for knowledge about to be greatly satisfied, Fu Qinghai sat down with a solemn attitude.

As he opened the first page of the first book, Fu Qinghai suddenly couldn't help but think:

If I had this kind of mindset and perseverance when I was studying for my postgraduate entrance exam back then, would I have already gotten into Tsinghua?