Father's Surprise Sauce

The front line of the war was a plain paved with skulls and rotting flesh.

Khorne's demon legions surged from enormous spatial rifts like a torrent of boiling blood. Bloodletters swung massive brass axes, each step leaving burning footprints in the earth; Bloodletters let out piercing shrieks, their claws aching to tear apart their enemies' flesh; Flesh Hounds raced across the battlefield like crimson lightning, pursuing anything that moved. Their purpose was simple—killing, bloodshed, and offering their enemies' heads to their Blood God.

Nurgle's legion, meanwhile, spread from the depths of the garden like a slow but unstoppable plague. Great Unclean Ones lumbered forward, each breath spewing swarms of plague flies into the air. Plaguebearers chanted hymns praising decay as they directed bloated ranks of Plague Zombies toward the enemy.

Between those two world-ending forces swarmed countless Nurglings, like a green tide.

The Nurgling Gang was swept along in that tide as well, deployed to the very forefront of the battlefield.

The surrounding Nurglings displayed their usual innocent yet cruel "joy." They treated this bloody war as a grand new game. They chased Khorne's artillery fire, trying to catch the whistling "burning stones" in their mouths; they curiously poked at the corpses of Khorne's demons on the ground, then shrieked in surprise at the red blood flowing from them, so different from their own.

They were perfect cannon fodder because they had no idea what "fear" was.

But Liu Zhipeng did.

He hid behind a gigantic rotting mushroom, feeling every tremor beneath his feet and listening to the distant sounds of flesh being torn apart. His very soul trembled. More clearly than any Nurgling, he knew that once that crimson tide charged over, a tiny creature like him would be stomped into a puddle of meat in an instant, without leaving even a trace behind.

"Boss! What do we do now?" Boji scampered to his side, excitedly swaying the horn on his head. "Are we going to charge in and play 'bump-bump' with those red guys? They look really sturdy. It must be fun!"

"No." Liu Zhipeng's voice was remarkably calm amid the jubilant clamor around them. "We're not playing 'bump-bump.' We're going to play a more interesting game."

He began issuing orders, which were swiftly passed to every Nurgling in the gang through Screamer and several other core members.

To the other demons, his orders were simply incomprehensible.

Rather than sending the Nurglings toward the front lines, he had them gather materials on the spot and begin a massive "engineering project."

The first step: digging.

He directed the Nurglings to use their weak little hands to dig frantically into the plain of rotting flesh. Though weak, Nurglings were numerous and tireless. Before long, a vast network of trenches quietly took shape on one side of the battlefield.

The second step: collecting.

He had members of the logistics team risk their lives to slip deep into the battlefield and gather special "materials"—the corpses of slain Nurgle demons. Those corpses, especially those of Great Unclean Ones and Plaguebearers, contained the densest and fiercest divine power of Nurgle.

The third step: mixing.

He directed the Nurglings to drag the collected demon corpses into certain junctions of the trenches, then had every Nurgling do one thing to them—vomit and defecate.

A Nurgling's body was itself a miniature plague factory. Their vomit and excrement were the most common "building materials" and "fertilizer" in the Nurgling Garden, filled with corrosive fluids and countless plague bacteria.

Thousands upon thousands of Nurglings carried out an unprecedented "collective creation" upon the corpses of those higher-ranking demons. Before long, they produced a revolting mixture. It was a viscous liquid with a rainbow-like oily sheen and an utterly foul stench. It possessed the stickiness of Nurgling excrement, the toxicity and corrosiveness of Plaguebearers, and the unceasing, tenacious "vitality" contained within the corpses of Great Unclean Ones.

Liu Zhipeng named the mixture—"Father's Surprise Sauce."

The fourth step: placement.

He had the Nurglings carefully pour the "surprise sauce" into every corner of the trenches, then cover it with a thin layer of loose earth for camouflage.

Once everything was ready, he ordered all the Nurglings to hide behind the trenches and begin shrieking provocatively in unison. The sound imitated the victorious roars of Khorne's demons, but with a comically off-key twist that made it sound like mockery.

Khorne's demons were all hot-tempered war maniacs. Their thoughts were even simpler and more direct than those of Nurglings.

By their logic: enemy = kill! Mockery = kill twice as hard!

Before long, a Khorne patrol made up of Flesh Hounds and Bloodletters was drawn over by the strange taunts. Following the sound, they charged toward this seemingly unremarkable area.

Then they plunged headfirst into Liu Zhipeng's carefully prepared "trap."

The leading Flesh Hounds instantly broke through the camouflage and fell into trenches full of "surprise sauce." The viscous liquid immediately wrapped around their limbs, leaving them unable to move. Then the potent toxins and corrosive properties within the liquid began eating away at their skin and muscles, drawing agonized howls from them. Worse still, the liquid seemed alive, boring into their bodies through their pores and planting Nurgle's "seeds" in their flesh.

When the Bloodletters behind them saw their companions fall into the trap, they did not become wary. Instead, their rage grew even more frenzied. Roaring, they tried to leap over the trenches and tear apart the little green bugs that dared toy with them.

But what greeted them was the "bomber" squad hiding behind the trenches.

Countless Nurglings popped their heads up from behind the trenches, aimed the ripest and fullest pustules on their bodies at the Bloodletters in midair, and detonated them together!

"Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!"

A "shower" of corrosive pus rained down upon the Bloodletters from above. Though the pus could not inflict fatal wounds on Khorne's thick-skinned demons, it was deeply humiliating. It made the hard skin they took such pride in itch and ache, while pustules sprouting all over it continuously oozed green fluid.

To a Khorne demon that revered pure violence and glory, that feeling was worse than being killed outright.

This small patrol was soon battered into a miserable state by the combination of "trenches + traps + long-range bombing." In the end, they could only abandon several companions whose bodies had been completely devoured by the "surprise sauce" and retreat in panic.