[Rules: All Reincarnators are forced to participate. Killing units from the enemy faction earns points. Points can be exchanged for supplies, equipment, technology blueprints, bloodlines, and more in the War Store.]
[Note: Reincarnators with the Lord profession may choose to enter alone or bring armed forces from their territory to fight alongside them (at the cost of additional points).]
After Fu Haoran finished reading the rules, he went straight to the forum section.
Pinned post: [Newcomers Must Read! Your First Heavens War: Laying Low Is a Win]
"Newcomers, don't do anything stupid! Stay alive and coast to victory with your faction. You'll earn more than by blindly charging in, or you'll just be feeding the enemy kills~"
"According to statistics, 87% of newcomers who lay low in their first Heavens War survive, while fewer than 5% of those who go all out do. I don't think I need to tell you which one to choose."
The replies came fast, all saying the same thing: "+1, choices matter more than effort," "Isn't an easy win great? Charge in and die," "Pick the blue side. Guaranteed win and chicken dinner."
Fu Haoran closed the post.
"Other people can lie low. I can't."
Fu Haoran brought up the troop roster, his finger sweeping down rows of figures.
The Warhammer World was a place that devoured people. If he wanted to survive, he had to fight for it.
The Lord profession had one advantage: he could bring an army into the instance.
The battle would begin in 24 hours. If he wanted to win, he had to bet everything he had.
But the problem was that even if he could bring over a hundred thousand soldiers, a bunch of ground troops would have limited use unless they were fighting in urban streets.
After mulling it over, Fu Haoran settled on the only workable plan: bring a starship with him!
On Planet S-Sai IV, there was only one person who could sell him a starship: the Rogue Trader Rake Vance.
Of course, this Rogue Trader wasn't that kind of "rogue."
Not every Rogue Trader could call the shots.
Rake wasn't a Rogue Trader authorized by the Emperor or a Primarch, nor one authorized by the High Lords Council. He held only the lowest-grade license, issued by the Imperial Ministry of Interior.
He had no fief, only a basic trade permit. He made a living buying and selling supplies.
He was nowhere near the level of those top Rogue Trader Dynasties that could command entire fleets.
But he did have a merchant fleet. When it came to buying and selling starships, he was the only one on the planet.
Less than half an hour later, Rake Vance came in person. He wore a gold-trimmed trade uniform, clutched a Data Pad in one hand, and wore a shrewd smile.
"Governor, what a rare visitor." He rubbed his hands and got straight to the point. "I heard you wanted to buy a Destroyer? What, tired of life on the ground and yearning for the stars?"
Fu Haoran ignored the small talk and stated his needs directly. "I need a sturdy Destroyer with heavy firepower. Name your price."
Rake looked troubled. "Governor, I'd love to sell you one, but you know I'm just a small-time trader."
"Armed ships cost a lot and don't leave much profit. I stick to safe routes, so I have no use for one."
Bullshit.
Fu Haoran knew perfectly well that a Rogue Trader was basically the equivalent of a 16th-century English merchant ship with a license to plunder.
A merchant fleet like that didn't care about firepower?
Only a fool would believe it.
Without armed escorts, pirates would have stripped them bare long ago.
Fu Haoran couldn't be bothered to call him out.
"Enough of that. What ships do you have? Let me see."
Rake handed him the Data Pad.
A three-dimensional model of a ship appeared on the screen—a Cobra-class Destroyer.
Fu Haoran's heart leaped.
The Cobra Class was one of the Imperial Navy's smallest Warp-capable vessels.
It was highly maneuverable and versatile, offered excellent value for money, and specialized in torpedo strikes.
Anyone who had played World of Warships knew that Destroyers were there to lay smoke, spot targets, and launch torpedoes. If a torpedo hit, that was a bonus.
It was exactly the kind of ship Fu Haoran needed most right now.
"Take me to see the ship."
An hour later, Fu Haoran stood in the shipyard, gazing up at the steel behemoth before him.
It was 1.5 kilometers long, with a slender hull and sharp lines.
It was ten times more impressive than the holographic projection.
"Why are there no torpedo tubes?" Lucifer suddenly asked.
Fu Haoran froze, then immediately followed Lucifer's gaze.
Along both sides of the hull, the ports where the heavy torpedo launchers should have been were welded shut!
Fu Haoran's expression darkened at once. He turned to Rake.
"Damn it! That meddlesome woman! Now I can't pull the wool over his eyes!"
Rake shot Lucifer a vicious glare. Earlier, he had thought the woman carried herself with distinction and had privately wondered if he could take the opportunity to buy her as a mistress.
But now, all he wanted was to shut her up and buy her so he could tame her!
Caught out, Rake didn't panic. He spread his hands and explained, "Governor, I'm a merchant. The torpedo bays took up space, so I removed them to make room for more cargo."
"The hull structure, armor, and engines are in excellent condition. The point-defense Las-cannons are over 92% intact. It's in great shape."
Fu Haoran's face darkened. The Cobra Class's biggest selling point was its heavy torpedo launcher arrays on both sides.
Without torpedoes, how was this ship any different from a civilian vessel?
With just a few point-defense Las-cannons, it could barely defend itself.
It was like a fearsome venomous snake whose most lethal fangs had been pulled out, leaving only teeth good for scratching an itch.
"You call this a Destroyer?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Rake argued. "It still has its Imperial Navy registration number and its ship registry. Who dares say it isn't a Destroyer?"
His explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.
But reasonable or not, it was still infuriating.
Fu Haoran was about to lose his temper when a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
"Warhammer torpedo technology is terrifying, but at the end of the day, aren't they just missiles and rockets?"
"As long as I can get back to the 2K World, whether I need air-defense, anti-ship, cruise, or ballistic missiles, I can get my hands on them."
"Maybe they won't be as advanced as Warhammer's, but they'll have a complete system, terrifying production capacity, and technology based on existing principles."
"If I can't reproduce the Empire's torpedoes, I'll make up for it with a flood of Earth-made missiles!"
Fu Haoran suppressed his anger and asked expressionlessly, "How much?"
Rake smiled broadly and held up two fingers. "Twenty million Throne Coins."
Fu Haoran's face really did darken this time.
He wasn't pretending.
He had less than twelve million in cash available in his account, even if he scraped together every last bit.
"Twenty million?" Lucifer spoke again, her green eyes sweeping over Rake. "The Machine Cult will sell you a brand-new Cobra Class for fifteen million, with a three-year delivery time."
"You dare charge that much for a Destroyer that's changed hands more than a dozen times?"
"Do you really think you can take us for fools?"
The smile froze on Rake's face, then darkened until it looked like the bottom of a pot. He hadn't expected this decorative woman to know so much. She had ruined his plans twice!
"Madam, that's not fair. This ship of mine—"
"Be quiet." Lucifer cut him off, her voice even colder. "Any shipyard can refit a Cobra Class in no more than five years."
"This wreck is worth eight million at most. Do you think we can't afford to wait, or do you think you can toy with me?"
Fu Haoran nodded at the right moment. "If we can't reach an agreement, then forget it. I'll contact the Machine Cult. I can wait another two years."
"Wait!" Rake gritted his teeth. "Twelve million! I can't go any lower!"
Fu Haoran kept walking.
"Ten million!" Rake hurried after him. "That's my bottom line! If you won't pay that, I'd rather let the ship rot in the harbor than sell it to you!"
Though he said that, Rake was already calculating. Selling this eighteenth-hand wreck for ten million would be enough to buy a secondhand merchant ship in better condition. It was a sure profit.
Fu Haoran paused, feigning hesitation, then nodded after a moment. "All right, but I want to complete the transaction and take control of the ship right now."
"Deal."
The news reached Navy Commodore Valerius that evening.
He slammed his fist on the table.
"Rake, are you an idiot? You sold the Noose to the enemy for a few measly coins?"
On the other end of the communicator, Rake sounded unconcerned. "Commodore, why are you so worked up? That ship has no torpedo launchers. It's a venomous snake without fangs."
"Fu Haoran can only use it as a transport ship. I sold him scrap metal, not a weapon."
Valerius sneered. "Scrap metal? Are you sure he won't install anything on it?"
"Install what?" Rake scoffed. "Torpedo technology is military-controlled. A nobody like him, even if he's a governor, can't get his hands on it."
"As for Lances, they take up too much space. Even if he installed one, he still couldn't beat your fleet. You're worrying over nothing."
Valerius stared at the communicator for a long while before finally tamping down his anger.
"Let's hope so!" He cut the call, then said coldly to his adjutant, "Keep a close eye on that ship. If he dares install any weapons on it, we'll teach him a lesson with our orbital cannons."
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