These Genestealer, lurking deep within the recruitment camps, are Lynn's true trump card, guarding these millions of "reserve resources."
From the Midtown was designated as a temporary quarantine site, every batch of recruits sent there included highly mimicked third-generation hybrids.
They look no different from ordinary young people, can eat and sleep well, and can pass the most stringent identity verification.
Only extremely faint Psychic Power fluctuations deep within their brains marked their identity as belonging to the Zerg swarm.
Normally they remain still, training and resting like the most obedient soldiers awaiting conscription.
In secret, they act like mobile sensory networks, synchronizing every movement in the entire quarantine zone to the Hive Mind in real time.
The Chaos Cultist's supposedly flawless infiltration and sacrifice plan was completely exposed to these spies from the moment the first batch of traitors infiltrated the recruitment camp.
They didn't alert the group; they simply watched coldly as the believers secretly made their way together, hid witchcraft tools, and carved blasphemous runes in the corners of the factory.
Like a patient hunter, waiting for the moment when the prey fully bares its fangs.
The moment Bishop Jensen's purification squad broke through the walls and stepped into the factory area, the Genestealer scattered throughout the area began surveying the entire factory site.
Where are the sorcery traps hidden? Which area has the highest concentration of mutants? And the exact location of that flesh altar?
All the information is like an unfolded map, clearly reflected in the swarm consciousness network.
The next second, a complete route appeared in the mind of one of the Iron Guard soldiers mixed in with the first purification squad.
The soldier's Holt, a young corporal in his early thirties, with a youthful face still showing signs of naiveté.
He paused slightly, then resumed his normal pace, his gaze sweeping across the crisscrossing corridor ahead.
He glanced at Sister Cecilia at the head of the group, who was holding Chainsword and about to give the order to scout ahead. He gritted his teeth, pretended to be reserved, and quickly followed.
"Sister!" he whispered, moving closer to Cecilia amidst the roar of gunfire and the monster's howl.
"Please wait a moment, I... I'm familiar with this area."
Cecilia abruptly turned her head, her silver-grey eyes, sharp as Sisters of Battle, sweeping across his young face:
"What did you say?"
"I was born in this factory."
Holt, panting, pointed to the rusty ventilation ducts overhead, then to the fork in the corridor at the end.
"My grandfather was a foundry worker here, and my father was a mechanic. When I was a child, I used to run around the workshop every day."
"I could find the secret passages and the core warehouse with my eyes closed."
He spoke earnestly, his voice trembling slightly, as if he were nervous about his rashly requesting permission:
"The place where that kind of evil ritual is held must be a large, secluded location. I can roughly guess where it is."
In the factories of Hive City, it is commonplace for a working-class family to live in the same factory building and use the same machine tool for generations.
Inheriting their fathers' businesses and remaining rooted in the industrial system for generations, like rivets firmly anchored to the vast industrial structure, this is the life trajectory of countless people from the middle and lower Hive City in the city.
Cecilia looked at him for two seconds, her gaze sweeping over the Iron Guard Legion insignia on his chest and then over the barely concealed urgency in his eyes, and she instantly understood.
This wasn't some "local" you just happened to meet; they were clearly guides planted by their superiors long ago.
The governor's office's reach extended even deeper than she had imagined.
She didn't point it out, but simply nodded slightly, the hum of the Chainsword lowering slightly.
"Lead the way. If you take one wrong step, I'll hold you responsible."
"Yes!" Holt's eyes lit up, and he immediately strode to the front of the line.
With precise route guidance, the purification team avoided several heavily guarded mutant clusters and bypassed countless hidden witchcraft traps.
The Chaos zombies that sprang out along the way were no match for the crossfire of the Sisters of Battle and the elite Iron Guard. The Promethium flames swept across, leaving only charred remains.
Occasionally, a few Tzeentch Cultist, who were supposed to be ambushing from deep within the pipes, would have their necks snapped by Genestealer silently crept in before they could even show their claws.
The body slid down the pipe and landed in the shadows of a corner without making a sound.
These hunters lurking in the shadows are the most competent cleaners, eliminating many hidden dangers for the purification team.
Therefore, despite the vast factory area, millions of mutants and fanatics are scattered throughout the various workshops.
Along the way, Aberrant roared and pounced, but the purification team did not fall into the headless chaos as expected.
Like a precise scalpel, they followed the most effortless path straight to the core, arriving at the door of the central main workshop in just one hour.
The only cost throughout the entire operation was that one Iron Guard soldier had his arm slashed by the Aberrant's claws.
"This is it." Holt pointed to the heavy, closed alloy door ahead, his voice low.
"The middle section is the casting workshop, which has the largest space but is located in a very remote area. It is usually idle and rarely even goes there for maintenance."
Cecilia didn't waste any words and raised her hand to make a tactical gesture.
Two Iron Guard immediately stepped forward and attached Melta explosive to the door lock.
"Boom!"
After a muffled explosion, the alloy door collapsed with a thud.
In the center of the workshop, the blood and flesh altar made of piled-up corpses was clearly visible.
A dozen or so Tzeentch Cultist, cloaked in deep blue, were chanting incantations around the altar. The crystal at the top of their staffs gleamed with an eerie blue light, and the runes on the ground seemed to writhe slowly like living things.
The purification team suddenly burst through the door, and the leader of the believers was clearly stunned for a moment, his eyes filled with disbelief and astonishment.
Impossible! The outer barrier is still there, and mutants are everywhere in the corridor.
Furthermore, the routes to this place are intricate and complicated; how could these people have found it so quickly?!
The thought had barely crossed his mind when Cecilia's Chainsword came whistling through the air.
"For the Emperor!"
The Sisters of Battle's roar echoed throughout the workshop, and purification bombs poured out like a torrential rain.
There was no demon army, no heavy firepower, and not even a decent Chaos Sorcerer.
These believers were actually spies hidden among the soldiers, relying on surprise attacks to slowly complete the ritual under the cover of the barrier.
However, when their advantage of concealment vanished, they ran head-on into a purification squad composed of Sisters of Battle, combat priests, and elite Iron Guard.
Their meager Psychic Power and hand-to-hand combat skills were utterly ineffective.
The Pink Horror was burned to ashes by the priest's holy flames as soon as it was summoned.
The sorcery rays of the believers struck the Power Armour imbued with the power of faith, leaving only a shallow burn mark.
The battle lasted only two minutes.
As the last believer was cleaved in two by the Chainsword, the flesh altar in the center of the workshop lost its power supply, and the dark blue runes instantly dimmed.
The magical barrier that had enveloped the entire factory vanished like shattered glass.
Sunlight streamed in through the broken skylight, illuminating the charred remains scattered across the ground.
The first recruitment camp has been successfully purified.
The same scene played out in seven other factories.
Precise route guidance, covert obstacle-clearing assistance, and the formidable combat power of the purification team made this battle, which should have been incredibly fierce, go exceptionally smoothly.
The traps meticulously set by the believers became mere decorations, and the massive army of mutants they had painstakingly created became nothing more than a backdrop along the way.
Often, before they even have a chance to gather in groups, the purification team has already taken a detour and headed straight for the core, destroying the altar in one fell swoop.
Eight factories, eight swift and decisive raids.
When the news reached the temporary command post, even Commander William was somewhat taken aback.
He had prepared for more than half of his men to be killed or wounded, but he didn't expect that the total number of casualties would not even reach a platoon level.
"The people at the Governor's Office certainly did their homework."
Bishop Jensen leaned on his scepter, gazing in the direction of the eighth factory, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Only Battalion 8 is left..."