Victor squatted at the door of Lower Hive's prefabricated house, chewing on energy bars and looking at the cold white light on the horizon.
At this time before, he was huddled in the tunnel, not even daring to breathe loudly as he listened to the footsteps of the patrol above him.
Now he lives in a house issued by Intercessor, which is six square meters, with a bed, a table, and an everlasting lamp at the door.
Intercessor said that those who are unwilling to dedicate eighteen hours to the great cause are parasites in Hive City and are not worthy of the gift of Four-Armed Emperor.
Victor firmly believes in this.
When Patriarch took office, no matter how hard he worked, he would never have enough to eat.
Now I only need to work for eighteen hours, and I can have enough energy bars and a house that is sheltered from the wind and rain.
What is this if not a gift?
He touched the Four-Armed Emperor holy emblem on his chest, which was issued by Intercessor.
Victor is very proud to put it in the most conspicuous position. When those Mid-Hive people see it, they are all in awe (with pores creeping in).
Intercessor said that only believers with noble blood are worthy of possessing such a holy emblem.
Suddenly, the comrade next to him finished chewing the energy bar, carefully folded the wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket, and reminded, "Eat quickly, today we are selecting jihadist pilots."
Victor's hand paused.
"How to choose?"
"It is said that it is about robbing the steering wheel. As long as you can get the steering wheel back, you will be qualified."
Victor's heartbeat accelerated rapidly.
He stood up, swallowed the energy bar in his hand, and clenched his fists.
The confusion and confusion in the past turned out to be for the arrival of this day!
"Jihad, here I come!" Victor's eyes burned with the fire known as faith.
Lower Hive The abandoned factory in the southern district was transformed into a temporary arena.
An iron fence formed a circle, the ground was paved with gravel, and searchlights were welded to the four corners. The pale light illuminated the site without a trace of shadow.
Tens of thousands of Genestealer believers gathered outside the fence, with their eyes red and deep roars coming from their throats.
The person presiding over the competition is Bishop Moria.
She is the only one among all Lower Hive Genestealers believers who can contact Master Intercessor at any time.
With her arrival, a "mountain" rose in the center of the arena.
It was an iron mound made of thousands of steering wheels, with crooked weld marks and intertwined iron thorns, glowing coldly under the searchlights.
Moria stood on a high platform, holding a metal steering wheel with iron spikes welded on it in his hand, with "Long Live Intercessor" crookedly written on it in red paint.
"Believers of Four-Armed Emperor!" Moria's voice blasted through the loudspeaker, "Today, Intercessor bestows on us a supreme honor - to drive a holy war chariot, charge for Four-Armed Emperor, and ascend into the Kingdom of God in the fire!"
Hundreds of thousands of believers in the audience burst into deafening roars.
Moria raised her hand to signal for silence, and then said, "Pious faith does not rely on words, but on actions!"
"Now, on top of the hill in front of you, there are more than a thousand steering wheels."
"Only the person who grabs the steering wheel is qualified to drive a jihadi chariot and has the opportunity to recruit teammates to participate in jihad."
She raised the steering wheel high and shouted, "Only the craziest, most devout, and least afraid of death warriors are qualified to participate in jihad!"
Victor squeezed into the crowd, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his flesh.
He is not afraid of death.
He is just afraid that his faith is not firm enough.
"There are no rules in the competition. Whoever brings the steering wheel back will be qualified for the holy war." Moria introduced.
Victor Got it.
It's not enough to just grab the steering wheel, you also need to bring it back.
He looked around at the eager compatriots and felt a little wavered.
"Can I do it?"
"No, I can definitely do it. I am the most devout believer. I can definitely do it!"
The iron gate opened with a bang.
The dark crowd rushed out.
Some of them were almost indistinguishable from their human form. They were hunched over and sprinting with their hands and feet, their nails scraping on the ground making a harsh sound.
Victor does not have the first punch.
He squatted down, grabbed a handful of gravel from the ground, held it in his hand, and waited for the person in front of him to bump into it first.
The first collision occurred at the foot of Iron Hill.
Dozens of people rushed towards the steering wheel at the same time. Some were stepped on, while others clung to the steering wheel and were dragged away.
Blood spattered on the iron mound and flowed down along the weld marks.
Victor rushed in.
Instead of jumping towards the nearest steering wheel, he jumped up on someone's back and jumped halfway towards Tie Qiu.
As soon as his hands grabbed a steering wheel, someone grabbed his ankle and pulled him down violently.
Victor fell down from the iron hill and landed on his back, with gravel piercing his flesh.
He didn't let go, the iron spikes of the steering wheel dug into his palms, and blood dripped from his fingers to the ground.
The man rushed to grab it, and Victor hit him on the bridge of the nose, making a muffled sound of broken bones.
The man let go, Victor turned over and pressed on him, putting his knees on the man's chest. He grabbed the gravel on the ground with his other hand and stuffed it into the man's mouth.
He stood up, tucked the steering wheel under his arm, turned around and ran away.
Behind him, more people were fighting. Someone was cut down while holding the steering wheel. The steering wheel rolled out and was immediately picked up by another person.
Someone was covered in blood, dragging his broken leg out and crawling out, still holding the steering wheel tightly in his hand.
Victor ran to the fence, flipped over, collapsed on the ground, and gasped for air.
He looked down at the steering wheel in his arms and smiled.
It was covered in blood and I couldn't tell whose it belonged to.
Moria came over, looked down at him, and said with approval in his tone, "Intercessor will remember your name."
Victor raised the steering wheel above his head and said in a hoarse voice, "For Four-Armed Emperor!"
The surrounding believers burst into deafening cheers.
Victor touched the Four-Armed Emperor holy emblem on his chest, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and walked towards the modification factory.
In the modification shop, welding splatters were everywhere and the sound of hammers was deafening.
Victor's car is a scrapped military truck chassis, and the engine can still emit black smoke.
He welded the steering wheel to the driver's seat, removed all the extra seats, doors, and windshield, and threw away everything he could.
"What do you need a windshield for?" he shouted to the co-worker next to him, his voice drowning out the roar of the engine. "I want to see his face clearly before I kill him and let him know who sent him to hell!"
Four Melta Bombs were welded to the body of the truck. Each one was wrapped in iron sheets and tied tightly with iron wires.
Intercessor has prepared these sacred weapons for them. Only the most devout believers are qualified to smash the tanks of those nobles with the fury of God-Emperor.
The detonation device is connected to the steering wheel. The moment it hits the car, press the button and everything is over.
Victor squatted in the truck bed and wrote crookedly on the bomb shell with red paint: For Four-Armed Emperor.
A few days later, thousands of tanks had assembled outside the modification factory.
Every car is different.
Some have iron spikes welded on them, some are painted with the holy emblem of Four-Armed Emperor, and some have iron crosses on their hoods.
Some cars have Bolter welded to the front of the car, some have four rocket launchers set up in the body of the car, and some have the entire cockpit welded into an iron cage, leaving only a seam to see the road. The car body is covered with graffiti of Four-Armed Emperor and "Long Live Intercessor" in red paint.
In the crowd, on the driver's seat of some chariots were atavistic believers with bone claws. Their deformed hands could steadily weld steel plates, and they could also firmly pull the trigger of Bolter.
In some truck compartments are mixed-race believers with a keen sense of smell. They can smell the smell of tank diesel from several kilometers away.
They are all aliens who were called monsters in Lower Hive. Now, they are the sharpest knives in Intercessor.
The roar of the engine blended into one, like a group of hungry beasts roaring.
Victor's car is at the front.
He was shirtless, with red paint on his chest. He held in his hand a piece of cloth that had been torn by an iron thorn while grabbing the steering wheel, and tied it to the side of the steering wheel to serve as a flagpole.
There is a rag hanging on the flagpole, which reads: Take one step first, and we will see you in the Kingdom of God.
The rider next to him yelled at him, "Victor! Are you afraid of death?"
Victor grinned, showing his bloody teeth. "Afraid? What are you afraid of? If you die, you can see Four-Armed Emperor, for God-Emperor!"
"For God-Emperor!"
Tens of thousands of believers roared at the same time, and the sound shook the sky.
Moria stood on the high platform, raised the holy emblem in his hand, and shouted at everyone, "Intercessor has an order! Jihad convoy, set off!"
The engines roared and exploded, and thousands of tanks rushed out at the same time, sending up smoke and dust all over the sky.
Victor Pushed the accelerator full, the iron spikes on the steering wheel dug into the palm of the hand, and blood mixed with sweat dripped on the dashboard.
He took a lick, it was salty, fishy, and sweet.
The tactics Intercessor gave them were engraved in his bones.
He is the arrowhead of the first echelon, and his mission is to use his own life to open the first hole in the tank cluster for the brothers behind him.
Rush in, blow up the leading tank, and disrupt the opponent's marching rhythm. Even if the vehicle is destroyed and people are killed, it is still the glory of the Kingdom of God.
The Four-Armed Emperor graffiti on the car body is looming in the smoke. The roar of the believers, the roar of the engine, and the sound of Bolter ringing into the sky are mixed together, like a red-hot knife, piercing straight into the steel torrent of Cole.
Behind him, tens of thousands of believers followed him and rushed towards the battlefield.
Upper Hive, inside the command post.
Lucifer opened the door and saw Fu Haoran putting on the anti-gravity suit under the flight suit.
"Do you really want to fly that plane yourself?" She leaned against the door frame, with a rare hint of dissatisfaction in her tone.
Fu Haoran didn't look up and zipped up the zipper. "No one knows how to open it."
"You are the governor. You are the backbone of the entire Hive City. If something happens to you, even if you win this battle, Hive City will collapse."
"It can't collapse." Fu Haoran picked up the flight helmet and turned around to look at her, "Cole's tank cluster relies on a dense formation to advance. They have rough skin and thick flesh. We can't take advantage of the frontal force."
"Genestealers's Jihad convoy is responsible for breaking up the formation and attracting anti-aircraft firepower. Ronan's pickup truck Melta team is the real killer, and this Warthog equipped with Avenger Gatling is a reassurance for them."
Fu Haoran paused, and his voice was calm but unquestionable. "In the entire Hive City, I am the only one familiar with the modification logic of this aircraft. Only I can maximize its firepower. I will pilot it, and the success rate of the decisive battle will be the highest."
Lucifer is not used to persuading people. That was the case in the past and it is still the case now.
She was very disgusted with this kind of irrational decision that put the coach in danger, but she did not forcefully stop it.
I even think this ridiculous feeling is worth looking forward to.
Fu Haoran Sit in the cockpit and buckle your seat belt.
With the engines fully pushed, the fighter plane raised its head and broke through the sky.
Fu Haoran knows very well that in Hive City, only he can drive this suture monster.
Red Sand Hills, Frontline position.
Wade squatted behind the bunker, holding up the telescope and looking at the smoke and dust rising on the horizon.
That is not the tank of Cole, but the jihadi convoy of Intercessor.
Thousands of modified tanks were divided into four echelons, like four red-hot sharp knives, rushing straight towards the long steel dragon of Cole.
The truck at the front had a ferocious iron spike welded to the front. The shirtless man in the driver's seat was roaring into the wind, and the rag flag in his hand was making a sound in the smoke.
"Crazy people... all crazy people." Wade put down the telescope and cursed, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up.
For the past month, they have been pressed into the Red Sand Hills by Cole tanks, unable to even lift their heads.
Now, this group of Lower Hive Genestealers that he wanted to clean up when he saw them before were the first to rush forward, preparing to hit the torrent of steel with their flesh and blood bodies.
He grabbed the communicator and ordered to all channels, "Everyone, prepare! Act according to the predetermined plan! Don't let those lunatics die in vain!"
The channel instantly erupted with a deafening response.
Ronan next to him lifted up the Meltagun that had just been issued. He pressed the cold gun body against the bunker and narrowed his eyes into a line: "Where is the Governor?"
Wade raised his finger and pointed to the sky.
Ronan looked up suddenly.
In the morning fog-shrouded sky, a silver-gray attack aircraft broke through the clouds. The Avenger Gatling Cannon tube on the nose of the aircraft slowly rotated, and the fire control system instantly locked the Cole's rear artillery position.
Behind them, two Valkyrie gunboats formed a wedge-shaped formation, sticking closely to the wings, with all the rocket nests in the belly opened.
Behind the bunker, hundreds of soldiers stuck their heads out at the same time, looking at the fighter planes in the sky, and instantly burst into deafening cheers.
The morale, which had been low for more than half a month, reached its peak at this moment.
Dozens of kilometers away, Cole's armored command vehicle.
The adjutant rushed in in a panic, his face pale. "Colonel! A large number of enemy modified vehicles were found in the front, rushing towards our front line at high speed! There is also an unidentified aircraft approaching our artillery position from the side and rear!"
Cole stood in front of Holographic Battle Map, looking at the dense red marks on the screen, with a disdainful sneer at the corner of his mouth.
"A group of Lower Hive rats think they can win by relying on numbers? What a joke!"
"Go down with the order and prepare to meet the enemy!"
"Before dawn tomorrow, I will have breakfast in Governor's Office in Alpha Hive City."