A Different Discovery

Schrodinger's Loyalist added, trying to knock two stones together to judge their texture, "This production efficiency—the Mechanicus Oil-Lovers would be silenced, and the Imperial bureaucrats would be moved to tears."

"Be content," Wang Zhong sighed, beginning to bend over and work, "at least we don't have to be sliced up for research or injected with Nurgle's sludge for the time being."

"Besides..."

He lowered his voice, speaking on a channel only the few members of the squad could hear: "This place is much looser than the heavily guarded underground containment facility."

"Look at the distribution of those overseers, and the raw material conveyor pipes over there..."

A faint glimmer flashed in the eyes of Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run: "Agreed."

"A labor-intensive site with complex personnel flow; blind spots in surveillance must exist."

"Preliminary observation: in the northeast corner near the exhaust vent, the overseer patrol interval is about fifteen minutes."

"The third conveyor belt above seems to lead to the refining core area; the security clearance might be different."

"Lay low for now, figure out the patterns, and see if we can steal something to save up some money."

Wang Zhong set the tone, "Don't forget, we can respawn if we die, but respawning costs money and requires enduring pain."

"Before we find a safe... well, way to log out or get our hands on weapons, don't act rashly."

Dull, exhausting, and pain-filled labor began.

Sorting ore by hand was no easy task; sharp stone fragments quickly cut through the players' rough work gloves and skin, and the heavy ore drained their stamina.

The overseers' whips cracked in the air from time to time, occasionally landing on some unlucky soul who was too slow, triggering genuine screams.

In the area channel, complaints and bitter, self-deprecating jokes never ceased.

"Holy crap, why is this rock so heavy! I feel like I'm playing <Imperial Miner Simulator 2025 (Warhammer Hell Edition)>!"

"Just got whipped; my HP didn't drop much, but the intense pain status lasted for ten minutes! Damn devs! Would it kill you to turn down the pain feedback?"

"Do you guys think we count as the Empire's loyal screws now? Or the replaceable kind?"

"Screws? In your dreams! At best, we're the rusty washer under the screw!"

"I miss the days of mining... at least back then we were free and had a chance to kill monsters for gold..."

"Have you noticed that the NPC workers nearby look at us kind of weirdly?"

"It's like they're looking at... dead people? Or lunatics?"

"No kidding, we're frantically ranting and cursing in the area channel while working, with all sorts of expressions on our faces; in their eyes, aren't we just a bunch of crazies grinning, cursing, or rolling our eyes at thin air?"

"Got it, in the Warhammer world, mental stability is a rare quality."

High-intensity labor and the realistic sensation of pain made the temptation to log out incredibly strong.

However, the system provided a cold prompt: [Currently in forced labor disciplinary status, logout function restricted]

[Please attempt a safe logout in the designated rest area during the overseer shift change (approximately 23:00-23:15 standard time)]

[Warning: If the vessel remains in the work area unattended and cannot log back in time, there is a high probability it will be judged as scrap, with a 99.99% chance of being recycled into nutrient paste]

"Even logging out requires clocking in!"

Did White Scars speed today wailed, "This is even more black-hearted than the companies in reality!"

"At least a company wouldn't physically destroy you and turn you into nutrient paste to feed other working cattle just because you logged out."

Wang Zhong didn't participate much in the complaining; he silently threw the sorted, qualified ore into the metal bin beside him, sweat soaking through his clothes.

He observed the overseers, observed the transport routes, and observed every detail of this massive purgatory.

In the corner of his vision, the label "Psionic Talent: Inactive" still hung quietly.

"Inactive..." he whispered to himself, "In this world, psionics are a curse, but also a power."

"If... if that possibility really exists..."

He shook his head, dispelling this overly dangerous thought.

The most important thing right now was to survive, then see if he could steal some ore to accumulate Imperial Coins, and wait for an opportunity.

Wait for an opportunity, or create one.

The players were herded into a so-called rest area filled with strange odors and only a few benches.

Most of the native workers huddled silently in the corners, seizing the time to recover their strength.

The players gathered together, whispering about their observations.

"There's a waste disposal channel to the east; the smell could kill a Nurgling, but it seems to lead straight to the lower sewage pool, and no one is guarding it."

"In the cooling pipe area to the west, the radiation signs are almost worn off, but the heat readings are still very high; it might be a dead end."

"The head overseer has a passkey hanging from his waist; it looks like a standard Trade Alliance low-level access card. If we could get it..."

"How? We don't even have a decent screwdriver! That crude pistol in the system shop costs 20 coins! Black powder! It's not even as reliable as my fist!"

Just as the players were whispering their plans, a piercing alarm suddenly resounded through the work area!

It wasn't aimed at them, but came from the refining core area on a higher level, accompanied by the muffled sound of explosions and the screeching of twisting metal.

"What's going on?"

The overseers grabbed their weapons in a panic, looking toward the direction of the billowing smoke.

"It's the boiler sector! Reactor Seven is overloaded!"

"Damn it! It must be those shoddy, corner-cutting pipes!"

"Go put out the fire! Evacuate all non-essential personnel!"

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Some of the overseers rushed toward the site of the accident, while others tried to maintain order, but panic had already spread among the native workers.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Wang Zhong signaled his team members.

"Now's our chance!"

They blended into the messy crowd, neither rushing toward the accident site nor blindly following the flow of people; instead, they moved toward the foul-smelling waste disposal tunnel they had observed earlier.

The entrance to the tunnel was indeed unguarded, marked only by a half-rotted sign that read: DANGER! KEEP OUT!

Inside, it was dark, damp, and filled with an indescribable, putrid stench.

"This smell... even the Grandfather would have to pinch his nose to walk through here."

Schrodinger's Loyalist retched.

"Stop talking nonsense and get in there!" Tax Brother shoved him forward.

The group quickly slipped into the darkness.

The tunnel wound downward, the ground beneath their feet slick and sticky.

After walking for about a few minutes, a faint light and a larger space appeared ahead: a massive underground sewage pool where discarded mechanical parts and unrecognizable trash were piled into mountains.

And what made their hearts race even faster was that, in the shadows of the trash heaps, there seemed to be several... suits of armor?

Along with the silhouettes of some heavily rusted metal objects that could vaguely be identified as weapons.

"That is..." Wang Zhong narrowed his eyes.

[Item Name: Incomplete Riot Armor]
[Status: Severely corroded, power core failed, defense extremely low]
[Recycle Value: Approx. 13 Imperial Coins]
[Note: Appears to belong to a disbanded Hive City enforcement squad]

[Item Name: Damaged Thermal Machete]
[Status: Energy circuit broken, can only be used as a metal rod]
[Recycle Value: Approx. 10 Imperial Coins]
[Note: There are dried, suspicious-colored stains on the notched blade]

Although they were all junk, this was the first time they had come into contact with the wreckage of standard-issue equipment since entering this world.

"We're rich..." Tax Brother's eyes lit up.

"Rich? This is all trash."

Schrodinger's Loyalist kicked the armor, "Selling it to the system will only net us a few coins."

"No," Wang Zhong crouched down, carefully examining the break in the thermal machete, "the important thing is, why are these things here?"

"Were they discarded, or... hidden?"

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the man-made trash bunkers surrounding the sewage pool, and a guess formed in his mind:

Perhaps this wasn't just a dumping ground; could it be an armory deliberately hidden by someone?

In the distance, the refinery's alarm gradually subsided, but a new chaos might have only just begun.