Welcome to Nuceria

A sphere, similar in function to a drone, flew above Qin Xa and circled around him.

Energy seemed to be gathering in a cavity beneath the sphere, and Qin Xa felt his hairs stand on end as if he were near an electric field.

Clearly, if things didn't go well, the drone would unleash some kind of energy weapon.

"Tasha! Tasha?"

When they were within a hundred meters, the leader's head poked out from behind the shield-bearer, staring at Qin Xa and shouting incomprehensible words.

This wasn't High Gothic.

But the Imperium of Man was vast, and on some worlds, ordinary people communicated in local dialects—that wasn't an issue.

Qin Xa remained silent, standing still, observing and pondering his next move.

He wasn't surprised that these people didn't recognize his massive frame; after all, the Imperium was so large that not everyone on every world had seen an Astartes.

But there was one thing these people would surely know: the Imperial Aquila.

With that thought, Qin Xa quickly drew the double-headed eagle symbol in the dirt with his foot, then watched the reactions of the crowd before him.

If they were Imperial citizens, they would realize what the symbol meant, and from the stories of the "God-Emperor's Angels" told by priests wielding the double-headed eagle scepter since childhood, they might deduce the origin of this nearly three-meter-tall giant before them.

But things didn't go so smoothly.

The nearly hundred people stared at the symbol on the ground in confusion, utterly failing to recognize what it represented.

The leader soon lifted his head, a mix of half-puzzlement and half-contempt on his face, and laughed as he shouted something unintelligible.

It was a command. Immediately, everyone spread out and raised their weapons.

These people seemed to have a decent level of technology, but their weaponry was lackluster—almost all of them wielded electromagnetic baton-like weapons, with only the leader's gun, clearly a tranquilizer rifle, counting as ranged firepower.

"Strange," Qin Xa muttered, scrutinizing the crowd. "Your gear doesn't look like it's for combat... more like you're here to catch something."

The people before him couldn't answer; neither side understood the other's language. There was no choice but to fight.

The drone above suddenly released some kind of energy attack, but Qin Xa had already dodged before it struck.

His evasive move was so fast that ordinary eyes couldn't track it—except for the leader.

The observation device on the leader's helmet seemed to kick in, making his body react before his brain could, accurately predicting Qin Xa's trajectory as he dodged. The tranquilizer rifle fired a dart.

Qin Xa was slightly surprised by the pinpoint accuracy of the shot, but he easily caught the dart between two fingers.

The dart shattered instantly, releasing a cloud of gas.

"Are you kidding me?" Qin Xa tossed the dart fragments at the drone above, and as it exploded, he stared at the people before him. "Even the miasma of a death world wouldn't affect me. You think your native anesthetic gas can do anything?"

The crowd naturally didn't understand his words. After a wary observation, they all realized this man was no easy opponent.

Everyone grew serious and quickly surrounded Qin Xa.

These people had clearly undergone rigorous combat training. Some pulled out items resembling grenades, others adjusted their batons to a charged mode, and a few set their weapons to accumulate an electric sphere.

Qin Xa had no idea what technology powered those strange melee weapons; they were as bizarre as the people wielding them.

"Huha! Huha! Huha!"

The crowd let out war cries, wildly swinging their batons and hopping around.

Those with shields also drew their batons, banging them against the shields while shouting, obscuring the figures of their comrades behind them—likely trying to confuse their opponent.

By ordinary standards, these people were well-trained and high-spirited.

But in the eyes of an Astartes, they looked like a bunch of senile old folks, performing meaningless actions in slow motion.

"Ah!"

A loud shout came from behind Qin Xa. A burly shield-bearer suddenly lunged at his back.

Qin Xa easily dodged just by discerning the direction of the sound.

Similar probing ambushes came from all directions within the next three seconds, and Qin Xa evaded them all effortlessly—merely evading.

Until the group realized their opponent was no pushover, they cautiously stepped back and prepared to switch tactics.

"It looks like you really can't provide any useful information," Qin Xa sighed helplessly, abandoning the idea of seeking answers from them.

As Qin Xa took a deep breath, the scorching sand suddenly cooled, and frost spread across the ground.

This sudden drop in temperature always occurred when a psyker began to channel their power.

This phenomenon, defying the laws of thermodynamics in the material universe, signified the Immaterium's encroachment on reality.

The sudden chill made the uninvited guests wary and astonished. They didn't attack rashly, as if assessing the situation.

Qin Xa stepped forward with his left foot, spreading his legs apart, raising his right hand to the sky and lowering his left hand toward the ground.

"I'll send you flying!"

The moment the words left his mouth, a shockwave erupted without warning from Qin Xa's body, expanding outward in all directions.

The people who had been hopping around and shouting incomprehensible cries a second ago were sent flying backward. Their bodies shattered mid-flight, turning into spraying flesh and debris hurtling through the air.

Splat—

Splat—

Lumps of things fell from the sky, hitting the ground with sickening thuds.

Qin Xa scanned his surroundings with a complicated expression, straightened back up, let out a regretful sigh, and then walked toward the convoy.

When he was one step away from the lead vehicle of the convoy, Qin Xa's foot suddenly gave a strange, jarring "twist." He quickly steadied himself and looked down, casting a surprised and puzzled glance at his left foot.

The foot was still intact, but it felt as if half the sole was missing.

"No... that's impossible..."

A "guess" that seemed absolutely correct to Qin Xa surfaced in his mind—the anesthetic gas from the small tranquilizer dart the leader had fired earlier was starting to take effect.

That anesthetic gas hadn't been much, and the tranquilizer dart was very, very small, its volume no larger than a .17-caliber bullet.

Such a tiny tranquilizer dart, not even the kind propelled by gunpowder to pierce the skin before releasing its payload—how could the anesthetic gas it carried gradually sedate an Astartes?

What was this?

The breath of Nurgle, one of the four gods of the Immaterium?

After a brief moment of thought, Qin Xa immediately rushed to the vehicle, tore the door off and tossed it aside, then rummaged inside for anything that might answer the many questions now plaguing him, or an antidote to the anesthetic gas.

The moment his hand touched a book, that uncontrollable prophetic ability activated.

His vision instantly shifted to above an arena.

Many gladiators were fighting inside the arena.

People similar to the ones he had just killed were trading captives with the arena's manager.

And on the crimson sand of the arena floor, a burly boy with a youthful face was frantically dodging sulfuric acid surging in from all directions.

Qin Xa suddenly felt that everything made sense now—including these people's intentions, and what the anesthetic gas in that dart actually was.

But there was no time to sort it all out now.

"So..."

Shrugging as half his body began to lose control, Qin Xa muttered to himself with a helpless smile.

"Welcome to Nuceria?"

The last syllable left Qin Xa's lips, accompanied by a dull thud as his head smashed a crater into the engine hood, the entire anti-gravity vehicle sinking from the impact before bouncing back up.