An Indigenous Planet

Amidst the cacophony of busy activity, the gravelly, booming voice of Ogedei over the intercom was particularly striking.

"Astartes, assemble!"

The briefing room.

All the Space Marines were seated, including the newly inducted Fu Qinghai.

Everyone was clad in full Power Armor, fully equipped with their helmets tucked under their arms, ready for deployment.

They all looked toward the end of the conference table.

At the end of the table, the expressionless Ogedei sat in his wheelchair. Without wasting words, he slid back a space and said:

"Captain Adenna, please brief us on the situation."

A middle-aged officer with a black beard and a crisp uniform stepped forward and introduced:

"Warriors, the situation is as follows."

As his fingers gestured, a holographic projection rose from the center of the table.

A blue-green planet.

"We have reached the edge of the Segmentum Solar, the Lesser Sector. The specific coordinates have been surveyed. The Dagger has sufficient energy, but other supplies are lacking. The damage sustained in previous battles cannot be fully repaired, and the damage control teams are severely lacking in materials."

"The closest to us is this planet, designated 09-177."

"I need you to land on this planet, ascertain the situation, and secure sufficient supplies for the Dagger."

Ogedei slid forward a bit, cleared his throat, and said:

"The last update for this planet, designated 09-177, in the ship's log is: 2.756.094.M30, 9th Expeditionary Fleet, XVIII Legion Salamanders, reclaimed this world."

"But that time is too far removed from us. The rebellion has occurred, and none of us know the current state of this planet. Therefore, before securing supplies, I am dispatching a tactical squad to the surface to go to the capital city before the planet's reclamation, a place marked as 'Bangluojia' city, to clarify the situation."

As Ogedei's fingers turned, the holographic projection of the planet rotated rapidly and zoomed in.

Finally, it displayed a horizontal projection of a city with buildings of varying heights.

"Quartermaster, hand the list of required supplies to Talal. Talal will lead this operation and select the personnel; the rest will remain on the warship."

Afterward, Adenna introduced the meager intelligence they had on the planet and the city, some from the ship's logs and some from auspex data.

Finally, Ogedei concluded: "Warriors, Jaghatai's Ordu, I do not know how many of you are 'Star Hunters' who joined the Legion before the Great Crusade, but I know that the scout's bloodline has not been lost in the inheritance of the Gene-seed. We are not those Iron Warriors or Imperial Fists who can only fight dull, stupid wars; we have long been accustomed to seizing supplies from the enemy!"

"Move out! If this planet remains loyal to the Empire, let them provide the necessary supplies to the Imperial military. If this planet has shamefully bowed to the traitors, then seize the supplies from the enemy and bring them destruction while you are at it!"

The warriors roared their assent.

After Ogedei finished his short combat speech, Fu Qinghai, who had been pointed out by Talal, followed the other warriors to the boarding deck.

The boarding deck remained as busy as ever, with welding sparks flashing and oil-stained maintenance workers and Servitors moving back and forth.

In a cleared area, a massive Stormbird had been waiting for a long time.

The warriors lined up and boarded in an orderly fashion. The massive hatch outside the deck slowly opened, revealing the true face of the planet.

Inside the Stormbird, accompanied by the turbulence and noise of passing through the atmosphere, Fu Qinghai asked Talal, who was sitting opposite him:

"Are we just going to fly straight down like this?"

Talal smiled and said: "I know what you want to ask. The planet's orbital defense system has failed, and the outer space station is empty. There has been no response to our signals. Ogedei suspects they have been 'visited' by other Legions."

Fu Qinghai understood. The army that visited this planet destroyed all military facilities on it, leaving behind a nearly defenseless planet. If the planet's stance was loyal, then the fleet that visited it must have been a traitor Legion; conversely, it would have been a loyalist fleet.

Before long, the Stormbird landed slowly on the ground.

The Space Marines quickly filed out from the landing ramp lowered at the rear of the Stormbird.

Fu Qinghai's hard magnetic soles stepped onto soft, damp humus, and dead leaves crunched beneath his feet.

Fu Qinghai's gaze swept through his helmet visor to look around; it was a lush tropical rainforest.

Albuslang, standing beside Fu Qinghai, took a deep breath, his voice coming through the loudspeaker:

"Even through the respirator, I can feel that the air here is full of moisture."

"Static... warriors." Talal's voice sounded over the comms channel. "To avoid being observed by any equipment that might exist in the city, our landing site is 30 kilometers away from Bangluojia city. Now, follow me, maintain tactical formation, move out!"

The White Scars warriors adjusted their formation and followed Talal into the jungle.

The Astartes moved quickly to a hillside on the edge of the city, where they could already see the faint, earth-yellow building complex in the distance.

At this distance, the comms channel remained silent. Talal reached out to signal the squad to stop, then turned to look at the Space Marine on his left and made a gesture.

It meant to capture a tongue.

The warrior nodded, led another warrior beside him, and slipped into the jungle.

Fu Qinghai and the others rested in place.

Before long, the two warriors returned to the hillside, dragging a thin, dark-skinned old man.

The tall Space Marine held the old man as if he were a chick. He placed the old man on the ground. The old man, wearing tattered, robe-like clothing, hugged his shoulders with both hands, his eyes shrinking as he looked at the circle of steel giants around him, his frail body trembling.

Talal removed his helmet, revealing a weathered, bronze-toned face, and asked the old man in as gentle a tone as he could muster:

"Can you understand my language?"

The old man nodded fearfully.

"Good." Talal pointed toward the earthy-yellow cluster of buildings in the distance. "Is that Bangluojia?"

The old man nodded again. "Baluojia," he repeated, though his accent was strange.

Perhaps that was the correct pronunciation for this city.

After some questioning, the White Scars warriors learned that most of the locals were unaware of the arrival of the Dagger and the Stormbird—at least, this old man didn't know. He was just a poor man living in the suburbs. A few months ago, a spaceship had brought god-like warriors just like Talal and his men to Bangluojia. They hadn't just killed the Imperial officials stationed on the planet; they had also slaughtered people in the city for no reason before departing in a hurry.

After hearing the old man's description of the appearance of those "god-like warriors," a sneer curled the corner of Talal's mouth, and he said with a tone of disgust:

"It's those damn bats."

Fu Qinghai nodded. The VIII Legion, the Night Lords, whose legion icon was a fanged skull with bat wings.

If the White Scars were merely unruly, or perhaps prioritized the cultural customs of their homeworld Chogoris over Imperial regulations, they still fell within the category of professional soldiers. The Night Lords Legion, however, were nothing but thugs and criminals.

Their behavior was cruel and horrific, devoid of even a shred of soldierly honor.

They were despised by other legions.

Even before the Horus Heresy broke out, the Night Lords had already committed several appalling massacres. Their primarch, the Night Haunter, had been ordered to Terra to face charges and stand trial, but the Horus Heresy erupted before he could reach Terra, and the Night Haunter simply took the opportunity to rebel.

The question now was whether the Night Lords' massacre was born of their habitual cruelty, or if they had already thrown themselves into the embrace of Khorne, killing to offer sacrifices and please the Chaos Gods.

If it were the latter, the situation inside Bangluojia would be far more complicated.

Fu Qinghai shook his head; it shouldn't be the latter. If it were a matter of daemon ascension or blood sacrifice, let alone this city, the entire planet likely wouldn't have a single living soul left, and they wouldn't have encountered this old man.

At the same time, the White Scars warriors learned that after the Night Lords killed the Imperial officials who refused to submit and carried out a massacre among the locals, they had looted some of the planet's supplies and left.

Following that, the planet immediately fractured into a landscape of various local warlords and fragmented factions.

The former royal family, which had been overthrown by the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet long ago, also saw individuals claiming to be royal descendants emerge, and this group had occupied the planetary capital, Bangluojia.

Hearing that the Night Lords had left and that the city was now occupied by a bunch of natives, Talal smacked his lips in disinterest and said to the Astartes around him:

"Let's move. Full speed ahead. Target the building marked on the map. Do not open fire until you receive my command."

The Astartes holstered their Bolters and sprinted toward the hillside at full speed.

The poor old man was left behind; at the rapid pace of the Space Marines, by the time he returned to the city, it would likely have changed masters once again.

Despite maintaining a speed of 50 kilometers per hour, the Space Marines remained calm and composed. Once the communication channel was reopened, they even had the leisure to chat.

Albuslang gazed at the earthy-yellow buildings in the distance, with their exotic rounded spires and colorful, shimmering glass, and remarked:

"It's clear that this planet hasn't been reclaimed for long. At least their city hasn't been hive-ified—not completely hive-ified, anyway."

A warrior beside him replied: "You know, hundreds of years ago, my biggest fear was that Chogoris would turn into a damn hive city."

His voice sounded muffled, accompanied by heavy footsteps, as if a colossus were trampling the ground.

Another warrior, running while speaking with disdain, said: "Forget it, Aaron. If you have the energy to chat, you'd be better off thinking about how to move your legs faster. We're running this slow only because we're being dragged down by you."

The warrior named Aaron was instantly enraged and retorted in a muffled shout: "Fuck, you try wearing this armor! And tell me, are you just jealous that I get to wear Terminator Armor?"

"Go fuck your mother (High Gothic: Funny Mud Pee)..."

The White Scars squad that landed on the planet was a standard tactical squad—small, but complete with all the necessary components.

Among the six, two were Jump Pack Troopers equipped with jetpacks. The power packs on their backs were a full size larger than Fu Qinghai's, and the two uniquely shaped, thick exhaust pipes were exaggeratedly large, extending downward into twin-nozzle exhausts that resembled the turbofan outlets of fighter jets from a past life.

In addition, they were equipped with one Astartes in Tactical Dreadnought Armor.

Aaron was equipped with first-generation Tactical Dreadnought Armor, characterized by a helmet design that resembled a canine. The armor possessed thicker Plasteel plating than standard Power Armor, a more complex network of electronic muscle bundles, and a skeleton forged from Adamantium. He stood a head taller than the average Space Marine and was significantly broader.

This armor, which sacrificed agility and speed, was specifically designed for close-quarters combat and siege operations, intended to withstand much heavier battlefield fire.

If they were to leave the cumbersome Terminator behind, Fu Qinghai's squad could have advanced at an even faster pace.

At the edge of the city in the distance, atop a towering spire, a soldier in robes holding a rifle tugged at his companion and pointed to the yellow dust rising in the distance, asking:

"Do you see that?"

His companion turned around, his face turning pale with shock. He rushed inside and shouted into the microphone:

"Warning! Armored vehicles are approaching us. Not wheeled vehicles, they are... they are humanoid armored vehicles! God, it's those demons! They've come back!"

After several minutes of full-speed movement, Fu Qinghai could vaguely see the outline of the city walls. With a thought, the helmet's built-in image compensation system activated, and the scene before him instantly zoomed in and sharpened—an ancient brick and stone wall, temporarily reinforced with steel. The main gate was slowly closing, and some makeshift barricades were being set up.

"Talal..." Fu Qinghai reminded him in a low voice.

"I see it," Talal replied calmly, then issued orders: "Terminator, take the lead. Get that gate open for me. Jump Pack Troopers, move to the flanks. Do not fire yet."

As the Astartes rapidly approached the gate, a few scattered bullets struck the ground in front of them, the ricochets clanging against their Plasteel plates.

It was less of an attack and more of a warning.

Bullets of this caliber, let alone ricochets, would struggle to leave a mark even with a direct shot at point-blank range. The Space Marines ignored them entirely and continued to charge forward at full speed.

As they neared the gate, the formation spread out. The Terminator in the rear stepped forward with heavy, thundering strides. A faint blue electric arc began to flicker over the massive, menacing Power Fist on his right hand—the Power Field Generator was engaging.

Then, he swung his raised arm with brutal force, slamming a straight punch into the thick concrete gate.

"Bang--"

Dust filled the air and rubble flew as the mighty Terminator, without the slightest deceleration or hesitation, crashed through the breach he had smashed into the city gate.

The makeshift barricade had long since been trampled flat and knocked aside, and the squad members following behind quickly pressed forward, entering the gate through the hole torn open by the Terminator armor.

Behind the gate lay a wide stone-paved street, the city sprawling along the gentle hillside; without needing a map, Fu Qinghai looked up along the broad central avenue and immediately spotted the target building in the distance.

At the far end of the road, also the highest point of the city, stood a tall building that looked completely out of place against the surrounding earthy-yellow exotic architectural style—a strange structure blending Gothic aesthetics with modern industrial design, said to be the work of a famous architect from an Imperial expeditionary fleet.

The Imperial Planetary Governor's Palace.

The Astartes continued their sprint toward the Governor's Palace. Strangely, this bustling street, which should have been the capital of the nation, was desolate and cold; the wide thoroughfare was empty, with only two or three passersby panicking as they hid inside houses, revealing eyes filled with terror from behind their windows.

Had the people all hidden away, or...?

...Fu Qinghai's heart sank; the slaughter wrought by the Night Lords might be even greater than he had imagined.

With no time to dwell on the state of the city, the Space Marines needed to seize control of the Governor's Palace quickly.

Along the way, they saw soldiers in robes continuously gathering toward the Governor's Palace, but Talal and the others ignored them; destroying a city was simple for Space Marines, but controlling one was difficult, especially when the tactical squad consisted of only six men.

Gathering them together was fine; it would make it easier to wipe them out in one go.

The grand and imposing Governor's Palace was right before them. Two Jump Pack Troopers moved quickly to the sides, their legs bending as they crouched, and their jump packs erupted with a roar. In an instant, surging, scorching flames spewed out along with a blast of air, and the two troopers launched themselves high into the air; one landed steadily on a rooftop balcony, while the other crashed directly through a glass window into a top-floor room.

Fu Qinghai and the others also drew their weapons, following the Terminator onto the clean, bright marble steps.

The Terminator in the lead casually tore open the ornately decorated glass doors, but before they could even see the scene inside, the tactical squad was greeted by a torrential storm of laser fire and shells.

The superhuman reflexes granted by the Astartes surgical modifications allowed Fu Qinghai, Talal, and the others to shift sideways the moment they entered the hall, causing a barrage of shells to miss their marks.

Only Aaron, clad in Tactical Dreadnought Armor, remained standing in the center of the doorway, enduring the storm of attacks. The rounds from the autocannons sparked golden fire lines against his solid Plasteel armor, while he merely raised his arm to shield his helmet.

In the center of the hall, behind two piles of hastily constructed cover, two large-caliber autocannons were pouring fire toward the Astartes with a rhythmic "thud-thud-thud," operated by mortal soldiers with expressions of terror and madness.

"Fire!" Talal ordered without hesitation; he was never a soft-hearted man, especially when someone else's autocannons were pointed right at his face.

At such close range, Albuslang and Fu Qinghai silenced the two autocannons with a few shots; the high-powered Mass-reactive Bolter Shells turned the enemy's gun barrels into charred, twisted lumps of metal, while the gunners were reduced to a smear of flesh and blood upon that metal.

A large number of mortal soldiers poured out from behind the doors of various rooms, shouting in a language they could not understand in a panicked frenzy. Their faces held neither courage nor intent to fight, only fear, and they used the weapons in their hands to launch a disorganized attack on the tactical squad.

Fu Qinghai noticed that what they held were standard-issue Lasguns of the Imperial mortal military, and even the two autocannons that had just been destroyed were active-duty weapons of the Imperial military.

The crimson beams of the Lasguns struck the Power Armor, leaving only charred marks, unable to penetrate at all. With such low power, it was no wonder the Lasguns of the Imperial mortal military were jokingly referred to as "flashlights," Fu Qinghai thought.

Talal did not fire; instead, he raised an arm in a gesture to stop, and his voice issued from the loudspeaker on his armor's gorget:

"Stop! Cease fire! We are not your enemies!"

But it was useless; the soldiers were trapped in a state of extreme terror, knowing only to keep pulling their triggers, as if they could not hear a word he was saying.

A laser bolt struck Talal's helmet directly, causing his senses to be overwhelmed by a burst of static noise, his visor filled with snow-like interference.

"Damn it." Talal did not need to aim; relying on memory, he raised his hand and fired several shots, dropping the soldiers. "Make them quiet!"

Fu Qinghai and Albuslang followed closely, firing continuously. Amidst the yellow cross-shaped muzzle flashes of the Bolters, the soldiers were mowed down in an instant, and the scene finally fell silent.

Even though they had switched to lower-power Subsonic Rounds in advance, it was rare for an unarmored human body hit by a Bolter to still be breathing. Talal looked at the carnage before him, shook his head helplessly, and said:

"Let's move. Secure the Governor's Palace, search it, and check the situation inside. Regroup at the top floor in 10 minutes."

The group dispersed, searching the rooms one by one.

Fu Qinghai stepped over a mangled corpse, the face of its owner still frozen in an expression of terror from before death.

Even the threat of death could not stop their fear; what exactly were they afraid of... Fu Qinghai thought silently to himself.

Only sporadic resistance remained in the entire Governor's Palace, and the Astartes did not commit any more slaughter, quickly sweeping the entire building.

Ten minutes later, the group gathered in the large office on the top floor.

Talal stood before the wide oak desk that had once belonged to the Planetary Governor, but it was empty now.

Talal placed his helmet on the desk and scanned the empty-handed warriors before him, asking:

"Did you find anyone in charge?"

The warriors shook their heads one after another.

Talal's order had been to capture someone who looked like the ruler of this city, but all Fu Qinghai had seen in this building were soldiers.

"Talal." A voice came from outside the door, and Albuslang entered the room, dragging a chubby man dressed in ornate clothing.

He threw the fat man onto the floor and said, "This man says the Prime Minister and the Princess are in the palace behind the mountain."

The fat man thrown to the ground crawled on the floor, weeping and wailing, shouting, "Don't kill me... don't kill me..."

"Prime Minister? Princess?" Talal frowned.

"They might be the so-called restorationist forces of the previous dynasty," a warrior reminded him.

"Should we go to that palace and capture the so-called Prime Minister and Princess?" Albuslang asked.

"Hmm... no rush," Talal said noncommittally. "Qingshan."

Talal turned to look at Fu Qinghai, his finger pointing at a Logis Engine next to the oak desk that had already ceased operation.

Fu Qinghai understood; he took off his helmet and crouched halfway in front of the machine.

Talal picked up the helmet from the table, put it on, and said loudly, "Everyone else, move out. Let's go meet this so-called Chancellor and see how he measures up to Malcador."

The warriors let out a light chuckle.

Malcador the Sigillite was the Chancellor of the Imperium of Man, the second-in-command of the empire, and the third most powerful psyker in the entire Imperium, surpassed only by The Emperor and Magnus the Red.

Fu Qinghan thought to himself that Talal was far less rigid and formal when leading troops than he was when serving as Ogedei's second-in-command, daring to make jokes about the Imperial Chancellor.

As the group departed, Fu Qinghan remained in the office, tinkering with the Logis Engine. After a failed attempt to boot it up, he pried open the casing, and a familiar scent of machine oil mixed with preservatives wafted out. Fu Qinghan's hands skillfully began searching through the thick, dark bundles of wiring inside the machine.

The Logis Engine was not a purely mechanical computer; what served as the processor inside was a human brain that had undergone special preservation treatments—a literal "brain in a jar."

Like the parchment also found here, it was a product of the Imperium of Man's phobia of AI. It could be understood as a specialized servitor with calculation and modeling capabilities, a computer system characteristic of Warhammer 40K.

During his time studying under Master Kunto, Fu Qinghan had become quite familiar with this standard Imperial computer.

Before long, the machine started up, and the Imperial Aquila symbol lit up on the screen.

Fu Qinghan entered the system to search. After browsing through the planetary resource catalog, strategic reserve warehouse information, tithe collection statistics, and more, he silently committed the data to memory.

The White Scars still knew too little about this planet. Seeing a file titled "09-177 Moradigan Governance Memorandum," Fu Qinghan opened it and quickly scanned through, gaining a clear understanding.

The planet was known locally as Moradigan, a world whose military technology had just reached the level of bolt-action rifles. The dynasty that ruled it was also called Moradigan, and its royal family was House Feoris. Because they refused to submit to the Imperium of Man, they had been wiped out by the 9th Expeditionary Fleet.

It was said that some members of the royal family were still scattered among the populace. These so-called "exiled royals" created a negligible amount of administrative trouble for the Imperial Governor.

After shutting down the machine, Fu Qinghan searched the governor's office, but the cabinets and drawers were all empty; it seemed they had already been thoroughly looted.

Having finished his business here, Fu Qinghan followed the information left by Talal and quickly headed toward the palace behind the mountain.

The magnificent pale yellow building nestled between the two mountains featured tall stone pillars thick enough for several men to embrace. The roof had the rounded spires common in the city, possessing a style that was a mix of ancient Greek and Arabic.

Fu Qinghan stepped into the palace. The space was vast and wide, filled with bright light, high vaulted ceilings, intricate murals, and layers of thin, woven hemp curtains fluttering in the breeze.

In the center of the main hall, the White Scars Astartes had already secured several officials in ornate clothing. Surrounded by the Space Marines was an elderly white-haired man in a long white robe, his appearance bearing a striking resemblance to Plato in The School of Athens.

The bald, white-bearded old man stubbornly tilted his head, glaring angrily at Talal, who stood a full half-head taller than him.

Hearing footsteps, Talal turned to look at Fu Qinghan and asked, "Done?"

Fu Qinghan nodded and said, "We got what we needed, and the location is confirmed. I just don't know how much is left after the traitors looted the place."

Talal turned back, removed his helmet to reveal his face, and looked at the old man who only reached his chest, saying in a sincere tone:

"I will emphasize this again: although we may look the same in your eyes, we are indeed different from the group that came before. We have no intention of slaughtering everyone on this planet, provided you are willing to cooperate with us."

The old man huffed and puffed, "But you just killed three hundred of our soldiers!"

Talal waved his arms helplessly, saying, "That was forced self-defense. You attacked us first. Now, listen to me..."

Fu Qinghan had no interest in the political negotiations between Talal and this "Chancellor." He stood to the side, looking up to admire the murals on the ceiling and walls.

The murals seemed to tell a story of creation, one that had nothing to do with Terra, the true birthplace of humanity.

Unlike the Imperium, which favored heavy, opaque velvet, the locals seemed to prefer thin, semi-transparent hemp fabric for their curtains.

As Fu Qinghan was admiring them, his peripheral vision suddenly caught a stone brick receding behind a pale red hemp curtain, revealing a dark gun barrel and the face of a hooded woman.

Fu Qinghan's pupils constricted!

He didn't need ballistic analysis to know who she was aiming at; among all the Astartes present, Talal was the only one not wearing his helmet!

The moment he saw the barrel, Fu Qinghan's hand instinctively reached for his waist to draw his weapon, but it was too late. Time seemed to slow down; Fu Qinghan clearly saw the yellow flame erupt from the muzzle. He imagined Talal's head being blown apart like a watermelon, bursting into fragments of bright red pulp.

"Bang!"

"Clang!"

The imagined explosion of the head did not occur. Talal stood where he was without even turning his head, merely raising his arm to block his face with his palm. The bullet struck Talal's black gauntlet, sparking briefly before ricocheting away.

Fu Qinghan let out a sigh of relief; the planet's primitive weaponry failed to penetrate the Astartes' gauntlet. Seeing the attack fail, the assailant immediately retracted the barrel and vanished into the hole in the wall.

Talal, having shown off a bit, remained expressionless and glanced at Fu Qinghan.

Fu Qinghan nodded in understanding, drew a Power Dagger from his calf, and sprinted toward the corridor behind the main hall.

Talal had just used a look to warn Fu Qinghan: do not lose focus on the battlefield.

Fu Qinghan, thinking the situation was under control and that he was out of the combat zone, had been distracted by the exotic decorations of the palace.

He had forgotten that once you step onto a battlefield, you can never let your guard down.

He had learned another lesson today.

Watching Fu Qinghan disappear into the dim corridor, Talal looked down at the white-bearded old man, his tone tinged with mockery:

"That foolish assassin just now—wouldn't happen to be your princess, would she?"

The old man closed his eyes in pain and despair.

After a moment, as if coming to a realization, the old man slowly opened his eyes and whispered:

"Please do not harm her. I will fulfill all your demands."

Talal nodded and said, "Rest assured, if she really is this 'princess' you speak of, Qingshan will know how to handle it."

However, after a second thought, just to be safe, Talal opened his comms channel and said softly:

"Qingshan, the assassin might be their so-called princess. I want her alive."

"Received." The voice of Fu Qinghai transmitted back with a hint of static, but it had been received nonetheless.

Entering the dim corridor, Fu Qinghai gradually slowed his running pace. Ignoring the two maids fleeing in panic, he pressed his ear against the wall to listen.

Upon hearing a faint sound, Fu Qinghai leaned his body to the side and smashed through the ancient stone wall with a loud "crash."

Inside was an even darker passage, a secret tunnel network extending in all directions, leading to who knows where.

Fu Qinghai could only roughly judge the direction in which the woman had fled; in such a massive palace, he had no idea which specific secret passage she was in.

However, he was not in the slightest bit anxious. He continued to run, listen, and smash through walls.

Fu Qinghai did not follow the complex secret passages at all. He simply moved in the direction he remembered, kicking open every door and smashing through every wall he encountered. He shattered countless stone walls, intentionally creating a loud commotion that echoed through the winding, twisting tunnels.

Finally, after he smashed through yet another stone wall, he faintly heard a low gasp suppressed by terror and trembling.

Fu Qinghai smiled and bolted in the direction of the sound. Then, in the pitch-black corridor where nothing could be seen, he heard panicked, rapid footsteps and a woman's scream...

One minute later, Fu Qinghai stood quietly in front of a second-floor glass window, looking down at the green lawn below. Suddenly, a large patch of turf along with the soil was flipped up, revealing a dark, square hole. A woman wearing a hood and a long robe scrambled out of the hole in a panic. She glanced back in terror, then crawled and stumbled as she fled toward the open ground in the distance.

"Create fear, and use that fear to force those in the darkness out." A sigh came from beside his ear.

At some point, an Astartes equipped with a Jump Pack had stood beside Fu Qinghai.

"You know, Qingshan, your methods are very similar to the Night Lords."

"Is that so?" Fu Qinghai shrugged, noncommittal. "The people of this city have already been terrified. Why shouldn't I take advantage of that? The method doesn't matter; only the result does, don't you think, Humar?"

After saying this, Fu Qinghai pushed open the glass window and leaped down from the second floor.

The Jump Pack Trooper behind him muttered to himself: "Albuslang's assessment of you was indeed correct—a cunning warrior who will stop at nothing."

Before long, Fu Qinghai returned, carrying a woman in one hand.

The woman struggled continuously in mid-air, pleading bitterly:

"Please, don't kill me, I beg you..."

This woman had a high-bridged nose, deep-set eyes with long lashes, and gray-blue irises. With thick, dark, dense hair, slightly rough light-brown skin, and long legs as agile as a grasshopper, she did not look like a pampered princess.

It seems life in the exiled royal family isn't easy either... Fu Qinghai thought to himself.

He stared straight ahead and replied indifferently: "If you're so afraid of death, why did you have the courage to fire at our commander?"

Unexpectedly, the woman stopped struggling. She spoke in a trembling tone filled with hatred and fear:

"Because you slaughtered our people! We had already submitted to your rule, yet you still tortured them, using cruel punishments for your own amusement, not even sparing the elderly and children!"

Her eyes were filled with terror, and within that terror, there was humiliation and resentment. Combined with her pitiful gray-blue eyes, she was truly a sight to behold.

She was so afraid of death just a moment ago, so why is she suddenly so full of bitter hatred now?

Fu Qinghai felt this shift was a bit abrupt, but he didn't think too much about it, only explaining:

"I told you, we are not with the group that was here before. Believe it or not, they even killed the governor we dispatched."

He then handed the woman in his hand to the Jump Pack Trooper waiting behind the main hall.

The passages in the palace had been smashed beyond recognition by Fu Qinghai. The Jump Pack Trooper picked up the woman and immediately activated his jump pack, soaring over the high roof of the palace.

Fu Qinghai, meanwhile, strolled leisurely into the palace, which was now littered with rubble from his path.

He knew that using the princess to coerce the elders into cooperating with the Astartes to collect supplies would still require some persuasion, so he was in no hurry to go over.

Without realizing it, he walked into a spacious room. The heavy solid wood door was wide open; the floor was carpeted, and layers of light, veil-like curtains hung inside. Behind the curtains was a large bed.

The faint, lingering fragrance in the air drifted into Fu Qinghai's nose through the filter of his respirator. Looking at the exquisite and gorgeous vanity and various wardrobes before him, Fu Qinghai thought to himself that this must be the "princess's" boudoir.

Fu Qinghai casually pulled open a drawer under the vanity.

Inside was a pile of women's underwear in various styles—lace, cotton, linen... accompanied by a faint scent of soap, and the designs were quite elaborate.

Uh...

Fu Qinghai pushed the drawer back without changing his expression.

Driven by some unknown impulse, Fu Qinghai pulled open another drawer.

However, the item that appeared inside made Fu Qinghai raise an eyebrow.

Lying quietly in the drawer was an object.

An item that absolutely should not have been here.

A Swiss Army knife.