The tasks are all done, who's still in a hurry?

[Task Complete: Air Support]

[Evaluation: S (Cheap Violent Aesthetics)]

[Reward: Universal Points +666, Free Attribute Points +1, Sky-Claw Valkyrie Gunship x3 (Precision Manufacturing Edition)]

Fu Haoran stared at the three gunships materializing out of thin air before him, his eyes lighting up.

Though they were mortal military equipment, they could occasionally be supplied for use by Space Marines.

"Finally, some decent air power."

The three gunships were painted in a gray-blue scheme, their fuselages a full size larger than the standard model. Heavy Bolters hung under the belly, and Hellstrike Missiles were mounted under both wings.

Most eye-catching was the magnetic hook system beneath the fuselage, capable of directly lifting and transporting light vehicles.

"Vertical takeoff and landing, thick-skinned and tough, can fight and haul..."

Fu Haoran circled the gunship, patting its heavy armor with great satisfaction.

"This is a Warhammer fusion of a Hind and an A-10 Attack Aircraft—one of the few vehicles in the entire Imperium that wouldn't look out of place in other sci-fi settings."

Fu Haoran's mind was already calculating how to use them.

"With these, elite squads and light equipment can be rapidly deployed to key locations."

"Three is a bit few, but used sparingly, they can handle most situations."

Just as Fu Haoran finished allocating his attribute points, the system popped another message.

[Congratulations, Host, for capturing the Promethium Factory]

[Reward: Universal Points +6666, Free Attribute Points +6, Military Ammunition Power Battery Technology (No STC)]

Fu Haoran's mouth twitched. "Giving the tech but not the STC... System, can you be any stingier?"

[Ding! Main Quest Triggered: The Noble's Counterattack]

[Introduction: Silverthorn House is taking the lead, uniting 7 vassal noble houses, gathering 50,000 private soldiers, plus major gang members. Estimated arrival at the designated area in 72 hours.]

[There are still tens of thousands of violent terrorists inside not cleared, and another wave of enemies is already on the way. Suggestion: Player should pack up and run, save some Universal Points~]

Just then, Wade's communication came through.

"Sir, the remnants of the Iron Hand Gang have all holed up inside the factory buildings. We didn't dare pursue inside—the space is too large, and a direct assault would cause heavy casualties."

"What's the next move?"

Wade was anxious, but then he heard Fu Haoran say lightly, "No more fighting."

What?

The comms went silent for two seconds.

"Sir, there are at least seventy to eighty thousand rebels still inside. Leaving them alone will definitely be a huge problem."

"I know." Fu Haoran's tone didn't change at all.

Fu Haoran really wanted to say that since the system showed the task as complete, fighting those "cornered dogs" any further would yield no extra rewards—why bother with the trouble?

But in front of his subordinates, Fu Haoran absolutely dared not say that. He switched to a different explanation:

"Next, do as I say."

"I'll transfer a batch of Chimera troop transports and Leman Russ Tanks over. Deploy them at every entrance and exit, and equip each exit with a Heavy Bolter."

Fu Haoran paused.

"Then, broadcast a notice on loop."

Wade was recording on the other end.

"First: Anyone who comes out to surrender will have their past offenses forgiven, but they must be incorporated into the Punisher Reserve Squad to earn merit through deeds."

"Second: Bring out the head of a core gang member, exempt from service, plus 3 days' rations and 1 bottle of cheap liquor."

"Third: Surrender in an organized group of five or more; the leader will be granted the rank of Corporal, incorporated into the Planetary Defense Force, and responsible for internal factory cleanup operations."

"Fourth: Surrender with a group of one hundred or more; the leader will be granted the rank of Sergeant, in command of a newly formed squad, equipped and supplied according to standard military configuration, also responsible for cleanup operations."

Wade listened, stunned for a good while, then his eyes lit up as he said excitedly, "Sir, this move is too ruthless!"

"The core gang members are only ten to twenty thousand. The rest are fence-sitters. With no food or drink, plus the bounty temptation, they'll definitely fall into civil war. We won't have to spend a single soldier!"

"But... what if they burn their boats and charge out to fight to the death?" Wade asked, still a bit worried.

Fu Haoran glanced at his three newly acquired Valkyries and said with a cold laugh, "So what if they charge out? We're a bunch of regular troops—are we afraid of a mob of thugs?"

"If they dare come out, those three Valkyries will teach them to grow a brain in their next life."

At the same time, inside the factory building.

Iron Hand Gang boss Jack Norton slammed his fist onto the control console.

"Fuck, what did the nobles say?"

The deputy handed over the communicator with trembling hands: "Lord Victor of Silverthorn House... says this is our last chance."

Jack grabbed the communicator.

Victor's icy voice came through: "Jack, you have four days at most. Our nobles' private soldiers, along with the other gangs, will reach the factory perimeter."

"When the time comes, wait for my signal. You and your men inside the plant will strike from within and break through the Governor's defensive line."

"Once it's done, the Promethium Factory is yours again, plus fifty heavy bolters."

Victor paused, his tone growing colder:

"If you fail, you and your Iron Hand Gang will be discarded."

The communication cut off.

Jack's expression twisted like he'd bitten into something sour.

The deputy whispered, "Boss, can we really hold out until then?"

"Even if we can't, we have to!" Jack roared, then lowered his voice. "Have the core members scavenge for food and water. Focus on the outer members."

"Boss, there are so many outer members. If we don't leave them anything, they might—"

"Shut up with the nonsense! Those outer cannon fodder—if they don't starve, they'll carry on. If they starve, who cares? There are plenty more where they came from. As long as we get through this, we won't lack for people!"

Jack turned and bellowed at the dozens of core members in the control room.

"Listen up! The noble reinforcements will be here in three days!"

Jack deliberately shortened the time to boost morale.

"Just hold out, and the factory is ours, plus new gear! Anyone who wavers morale..."

He drew his bolt pistol.

"This is what you get."

Time in the plant dragged unbearably slow.

The first day passed, and hunger swept through.

The fight the night before had exhausted everyone, draining their strength.

They'd fled in such a hurry they hadn't brought a thing—not even water, let alone food.

After just one day, morale had completely collapsed.

A gang had no loyalty to begin with; it was all threats and bribes. When stomachs started growling, no one wanted to listen to Jack's orders anymore.

They huddled in twos and threes, cursing and grumbling, their eyes full of despair and resentment.

They barely made it through the day, only to get a notice: hand over all their remaining supplies!

"What about us if we give it up?" someone couldn't help complaining, and got beaten for it the next second.

"Pah! If you're not happy, go outside right now and see if that Governor doesn't put a bullet in you!" a small-time leader snarled.

Seeing the hostile looks from the other outer members, the leader realized his mistake and stiffened his neck to shout:

"What are you looking at? When the reinforcements get here, there'll be plenty of food!"

The complainer clutched his stomach and slunk back into a corner.

On the second day, things changed.

A mechanical whirring suddenly came from a ventilation shaft on the east side of the plant.

A few outer members went to check and found a Servitor pushing a cart toward them.

A speaker on the Servitor's head looped a message:

"Surrender, and no past offenses will be held against you. Bring a head, and you get rations. Surrender in groups, and you'll receive rank and equipment."

On the cart were all kinds of tempting food: sausages, fried chicken cutlets, chicken strips... everything looked mouthwatering.

So much so that when Wade first saw it, he flatly refused to let the food be sent in.

Fu Haoran had to talk him into it.

After all, these were 2K World's carcinogenic foods—cheap as dirt, but packed with chemical additives and artificial flavors to fake the taste.

Yet, while no one in the 2K World would dare eat them, they were Fu Haoran's cheapest and most effective tool for sowing division.

An outer member in tattered work clothes swallowed hard, staring at the food on the cart.

The Servitor's broadcast became the last straw that broke him.