The Empire's emblem was the Double-Headed Eagle, and one of its heads represented the Machine Cult.
Fu Haoran now understood that firsthand.
He pushed open the door to the Machine Cult's outpost in the side wing of the Governor's Office and came face-to-face with a pair of cold mechanical eyes.
"Priest Kallen, give me all the data on the forces and resources in Hive City." Fu Haoran skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point.
The metal head of Priest Kallen emitted a faint servo whine and turned slightly. His metal fingers lifted and tapped the holographic display before him.
A pale blue hologram burst to life, unfurling the vast, twisted three-dimensional structure of the entire Hive City in the air. The sheer wealth of detail gave Fu Haoran a true taste of the power of future human technology.
However, Fu Haoran's attention was quickly drawn to the holographic map.
The core factories in Mid-Hive, the Promethium refineries, the weapons assembly plants... All of them bore the conspicuous crests of noble families.
"These turncoats switched sides during the coup faster than you could turn a page. So they'd been eyeing these territories all along." Fu Haoran cursed under his breath.
Fu Haoran wanted to cut through the mess and wipe out the whole nest of vermin.
But as a son of China, he knew this script all too well.
A new ruler who had only just taken power and had yet to secure his position could easily be reduced to a puppet by the officials beneath him.
If he turned against them now, the only outcome would be them joining forces to topple him and toss his corpse into a cesspit in Lower Hive.
"Be patient for now. We'll settle accounts once we have the strength."
Fu Haoran shifted his gaze to Lower Hive.
The sight gave him an even bigger headache.
If Mid-Hive was a chessboard carved up by nobles, then Lower Hive was a hodgepodge that had been smashed to pieces and put back together at random.
Thousands of gang insignias densely covered the Lower Hive region.
The projection zoomed in on a narrow passage. "Red Dagger" was marked on the left, "Blue Bone" on the right, and a thick, glaring red line divided the two.
"What kind of performance art is this?" Fu Haoran pointed at the line.
Wade, who had been silently following behind them, glanced over and explained, "That's Bloodline Street, sir."
"Red Dagger and Blue Bone fought over a water purification station on the corner for three years. Eventually, they got tired of fighting, so they drew this line. If anyone crosses it, the other side attacks to kill."
"Do they bow and say 'after you' before they start shooting?" Fu Haoran asked with a laugh of disbelief.
"Usually, they just throw grenades and Molotov cocktails," Wade replied matter-of-factly.
"Welcome to the Hive City stage. If you're alive, come on in." Fu Haoran couldn't help making a sarcastic remark, rubbing his aching temples.
This wasn't governing. It was breeding poisonous insects.
"Wade, don't just let me look at it. What do you think?"
Wade, a former PDF officer, had clawed his way up from the bottom of Hive City. He might not understand the convoluted schemes of the Upper Hive nobility, but he knew the rules of Lower Hive inside out.
After scanning the dizzying projection, Wade shook his head. "Sir, as far as I know, there are more than three hundred gangs in Lower Hive with names worth mentioning."
"As for their actual numbers... there's no way to count them precisely, but the population is at least in the tens of millions."
"We can only deploy a hundred and fifty thousand troops from the Guard. We're short thirty percent of our equipment, and our ammunition stockpile is only enough for a few medium-intensity campaigns."
"Wiping out the gangs one by one would take at least a decade, assuming we kept winning and had an endless supply of logistical support."
Fu Haoran lowered his finger and tapped a specially highlighted area of the projection—the Promethium fuel complex.
"Can we take this place first?"
Wade's expression grew grave. "The Iron Claw Gang occupies it. They're one of the four major gangs in Lower Hive, with more than fifty thousand core members and at least three hundred thousand armed thugs they can send into battle. Their outer circle is even larger."
"On top of that, the factory itself is a fortress. Its outer walls are reinforced with Plasteel, and our intelligence says they somehow got hold of two decommissioned Storm Bolters and converted them into fixed gun emplacements on the high ground."
"The terrain is easy to defend and hard to attack. Unless we can carry out a precision decapitation strike and take out their leader's hideout, a frontal assault would be a bottomless pit that swallows lives. We can't afford it."
Fu Haoran nodded.
Promethium was the Empire's blanket term for all forms of fuel. It could be used to manufacture various industrial products, and, most importantly, it was a raw material for synthesizing Corpse Starch.
Taking the facility would mean controlling both energy and food.
"We have to crack this nut."
"Let's start by taking down one or two small gangs that don't know their place and don't have powerful backing. We can train the troops, seize some supplies, and fight to sustain ourselves..."
Fu Haoran was about to try the usual tricks of the transmigrator veterans who had come before him.
But Wade shot down the suggestion in the next moment.
"Sir, there are no isolated small gangs in Lower Hive. Every small gang either pays tribute to a major gang or is directly a front for one."
"Attack one, and you stir up a whole nest of hornets."
"Then expand the army! If a hundred and fifty thousand isn't enough, recruit three hundred thousand! Give them proper training!" Fu Haoran insisted, refusing to give up.
But Wade shook his head. "Sir, we can't. Recruiting soldiers requires signing bonuses and equipment."
"We don't have enough of even the most basic Guard uniform and Lasgun to equip them."
"There are plenty of Lasguns stockpiled in the warehouse, but forty percent need repairs, and the rest are missing their batteries."
"Then have veterans train the recruits. We'll learn in battle!" Fu Haoran snapped.
"That won't work either," Wade continued to refuse.
"We're already stretching our logistical supplies thin just to launch one sortie. If we lose, we lose equipment and morale."
"If we win, what we capture might not even cover our losses. In fact, gangs resort to brawling because ammunition resupply has always been a major problem."
Fu Haoran was at a loss for words.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go!
Why did every idea he came up with get slapped down by reality?
"Damn it, so we're holding a golden rice bowl and begging for food? No, the bowl's got a hole in it!"
The more Fu Haoran thought about it, the angrier he got. "Come on, let's raid the place! We'll see how much the former governor left us!"
Wade's mouth twitched. Only this new governor, who never did things by the book, could talk about raiding his predecessor's estate with such righteous conviction.
The vault door slowly swung open with the strained groan of massive gears turning.
Fu Haoran stood in the doorway. The little anticipation on his face froze, then crumpled.
It was empty.
The incredibly luxurious vault was completely empty!
The mountains of gold bars he'd imagined, the neatly stacked crates of credit coins, the rare minerals gleaming with an alluring luster... None of it was there!
"What..." Wade was stunned too.
In the dead silence, Fu Haoran spotted a small object on the ground, cold to the touch of metal.
He bent down and picked it up. The moment his fingertips touched it, he recognized the material.
It was a tiny gear fragment!
A string of fine Gothic characters was engraved on its surface. The edges were stained with a special lubricant used only by the Machine Cult, still wet, and the fragment reeked of engine oil!
"Tech-Priest, I need an explanation."
Fu Haoran glared viciously at the Machine Cult's Tech-Priest Kallen, who had followed them there.
The governor, who was already out of options, was furious enough to bite someone.
If it really came down to it, Fu Haoran didn't mind going all out and then disappearing without a trace!
Whoever wanted the governor's seat could have it!
I quit!
Before you continue