1: Chapter 1 Alien Planet, First Blood

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A violent tremor dragged Lin Mo out of his coma.

He struggled to open his eyes, his eyelids feeling as heavy as lead. Before him was a gloomy gray sky with low-hanging clouds that looked ready to collapse at any moment. The air was thick with the smell of burning mixed with a metallic rust scent, tasting of iron as it entered his lungs.

His temples throbbed rhythmically, as if someone were striking them repeatedly with a chisel.

"Where... is this?"

His voice was dry, like sandpaper rubbing together, and his throat felt as if it were stuffed with sand.

Lin Mo propped himself up with his hands, his palms pressing into coarse rock fragments that stung painfully. Looking around, he found himself in a desolate hilly region where withered yellow weeds swayed in the wind. In the distance, the faint outlines of several crude houses were visible, resembling some sort of primitive settlement.

Fragments of memory began to piece together—he remembered clearly that he was working overtime on a project proposal, remembered the buzzing of the office's fluorescent lights, and the flashing cursor on the computer screen... then there was darkness, as if someone had pulled the master switch.

When he woke up again, he was here.

"Transmigrated?"

When the word popped into his head, Lin Mo found it absurd himself. But the scene before him gave him no choice but to believe it—the dark sky, the barren land, and that dilapidated settlement in the distance; nothing about it resembled 21st-century Earth.

Just as he was trying to sort out his thoughts, a cold mechanical voice abruptly rang out in his mind:

[mirror of the emperor system activating...]

Lin Mo's breath hitched for a moment, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

[Host's consciousness detected as awake, beginning neural interface...]

[Interface complete. Welcome, Chosen One.]

[Current Time: M31.001, Year One after the Horus Heresy ended.]

[Current Location: Imperium Eastern Star Sector, Hope Star (Unnamed), Blackstone Village Outskirts.]

[System Functional Modules: Analysis (Unlocked), Knowledge Base (Unlocked), Manufacturing (Locked), Tasks (Locked).]

A series of information pierced into his brain like steel needles. Lin Mo let out a muffled groan and clutched his head, his knuckles turning white from the strain. This wasn't a hallucination—the voice echoed directly in the depths of his consciousness, incredibly clear, every word feeling as if it were carved with an ice pick.

"mirror of the emperor... System?" he repeated in a low voice, his tone trembling uncontrollably. "Warhammer 40K? I've transmigrated into the world of Warhammer 40K?"

As a former product manager, Lin Mo was no stranger to various sci-fi IPs. Warhammer 40K—a universe known for its dark cruelty, where the Imperium of Man lingers on in decay, the Four Chaos Gods peer out from the Warp, xenos surround them, and war is eternal.

And he was now in this hellish world.

[Newbie Task Issued: Head to Blackstone Village and secure a foothold.]

[Task Reward: Basic Survival Knowledge Pack (Automatically distributed).]

[Reminder: Host's current Psyker level is Level 1 (Budding Stage). Capable of sensing Warp fluctuations but cannot actively use them. Please act with caution and avoid exposure.]

Lin Mo took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He closed his eyes and spent three seconds taking a deep breath—inhale, hold, exhale. This was the emergency method he had learned after ten years of struggling in the internet industry: when faced with a sudden situation, first detach yourself from the panic.

Panic solves nothing.

He stood up, patted the dust off his clothes, and walked toward the distant settlement.

---

Blackstone Village was even more dilapidated than it appeared from a distance.

About twenty or thirty wooden houses were huddled together crookedly, like building blocks that could collapse at any time. The perimeter wall was haphazardly piled with stones and mud, barely reaching an adult's chest; anyone could easily climb over it. Standing at the village entrance were two guards holding crude spears, dressed in patched coarse cloth. Their eyes were wary and weary, their sockets sunken as if they hadn't slept for days.

"Halt! Who goes there?" one guard shouted, leveling his spear at Lin Mo.

Lin Mo raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, palms facing outward: "My name is Lin Mo. I'm from out of town... I'm lost. May I ask where this is?"

The two guards exchanged a look. The older one frowned, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as deep as knife cuts: "An outsider? In this day and age, there are still outsiders brave enough to wander around the Eastern Star Sector?"

"I was with a merchant caravan and we were attacked by Orks..." Lin Mo made up a reason on the fly, his voice tinged with just the right amount of exhaustion. "I'm the only one who escaped."

"Orks?" The older guard's expression shifted, his hand tightening on the spear. "There have indeed been Orks active nearby lately... Fine, come with me. The Village Chief wants to see you."

Lin Mo followed the guard into the village.

Out of his instinct as a product manager of ten years, he subconsciously gave the village's defense system a score of 2 out of 10: insufficient wall height, no firing slits, zero fortifications, and near-zero personnel training. It was a miracle they had lasted this long.

There weren't many people in the village, and most were sallow and thin with protruding cheekbones. They showed wary expressions when they saw a strange face, like startled animals. Children peeked from around corners, their eyes wide. Women carrying buckets hurried past, the wooden pails creaking. The men were either repairing the walls or wiping down weapons, their movements mechanical and numb.

This was a settlement struggling on the edge of death; everyone carried a certain indifference, as if they could die at any moment.

"Chief, this is an outsider. Says he was attacked by Orks." The guard knocked on the door of a larger wooden house, the door plank making a dull sound.

"Come in," an aged voice responded.

Lin Mo entered the wooden house and saw a white-haired old man sitting behind a crude wooden table, his face covered in wrinkles like parched earth. However, the old man's eyes were exceptionally sharp, like a blade hidden in a scabbard, as he looked Lin Mo up and down.

"I am Wang Defu, the Village Chief of Blackstone Village," the old man said, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Young man, you say you were attacked by Orks? Which merchant caravan?"

Lin Mo's heart tightened, and cold sweat broke out on his back—he had no details about a merchant caravan to fabricate.

Just as he was racking his brain for a way to patch up his lie, the mechanical voice rang out in his mind again:

[Host detected in a predicament. Automatically distributing [Basic Survival Knowledge Pack].]

[Knowledge Pack Contents: Local Common Tongue proficiency, basic star sector geographic knowledge, basic Ork ecological awareness.]

[Reminder: Knowledge has been directly integrated into host's memory; no study required.]

In an instant, a flood of information poured into his mind. He "remembered" the details he "should" know—he was "from" a small merchant caravan in the Southern Star Sector called the "Far-Travelers," which mainly dealt in agricultural products and daily necessities. Their route was from a southern agricultural planet to the main city of Hope Star...

"The Far-Traveler Caravan, from the Southern Star Sector," Lin Mo answered steadily, his voice calm. "We were heading to the main city of Hope Star for trade when we were ambushed by Orks halfway... the others... are all dead."

He spoke the last few words softly, with just the right amount of sorrow and fatigue, making it seem unlike a lie.

Chief Wang Defu stared at him for a long time, his gaze seemingly trying to see through him. Finally, the old man sighed, his shoulders slumping: "Fine. Whether you're telling the truth or not, surviving these days isn't easy. Blackstone Village may be poor, but we won't leave someone to die. Stay here for now, and we'll see once your body has recovered."

The weight in Lin Mo's heart lifted, and the tension in his back relaxed: "Thank you, Chief."

"But let's be clear," Wang Defu's tone shifted as he tapped the table heavily with his finger. "Blackstone Village doesn't house idlers. If you want to stay, you have to work. We will arrange tasks for you."

"Understood," Lin Mo nodded. "What can I do?"

"Start by following Rock and the others on patrol. Orks have been active lately, and an extra pair of hands helps." Wang Defu stood up, his joints making a cracking sound. "Come, I'll take you to see Rock. He's the captain of the Village Guard."

---

In an open space in the center of the village, a dozen or so villagers holding weapons were gathered, practicing some simple formations. A burly middle-aged man stood at the front of the group, shouting instructions in a voice as loud as thunder.

"Rock!" Wang Defu called out.

The middle-aged man turned around and raised an eyebrow when he saw Lin Mo, his eyes filled with scrutiny: "Chief, who is this?"

"A newcomer named Lin Mo. From the Southern Star Sector, encountered an Ork attack," Wang Defu introduced briefly. "He wants to join the Village Guard."

Rock looked Lin Mo up and down, his gaze sweeping from his face to his hands, then to his legs, his eyes showing obvious doubt: "You? Have you ever held a weapon? Have you ever killed anyone?"

Lin Mo met his gaze, his back held straight: "I haven't held a weapon, nor have I killed anyone. But I learn quickly."

A few snickers rang out around them. Some shook their heads, while others whispered to each other.

"Learn quickly?" Rock let out a cold laugh, his mouth curling into a mocking arc. "Orks won't wait for you to learn. Kid, I suggest you go do something else. The Village Guard isn't for playing house."

"Give me one chance," Lin Mo persisted, his voice not loud but every word clear. "Three days. Just three days. If I can't do it, I'll leave on my own."

Rock was silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on Lin Mo's face for a few seconds before he finally nodded: "Fine, three days. If you can't keep up after three days, don't blame me for being harsh."

[Ding! Successfully joined the Village Guard, gained preliminary recognition from the villagers.]

[Satisfaction Triggered: Preliminary Foothold.]

Lin Mo's heart settled, and his tense shoulders relaxed—he had taken the first step toward survival in this world.

---

In the evening, Lin Mo was arranged to stay in an empty hut at the end of the village.

The room was very small, containing only a wooden plank bed and a dilapidated table. The wooden bed was hard, and he could feel the grain of the wood when he lay down. The window was covered with oil paper, and the light filtering through was dim and blurry, as if through a layer of mist. But compared to sleeping in the wild, this was already paradise.

Lin Mo sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes, and began to study the "mirror of the emperor" system in his mind.

The system interface was so simple it was almost crude, with only a few basic options:

[Host: Lin Mo]

[Psyker Level: Level 1 (Budding Stage)]

[chaos attention level: 0/100]

[Current Task: Establish a foothold in Blackstone Village (In Progress)]

[Available Modules: Analysis, Knowledge Base]

[Locked Modules: Manufacturing (Requires Level 2 to unlock), Tasks (Requires Level 2 to unlock)]

"What is chaos attention level?" he asked in his heart.

[Explanation: chaos attention level represents the degree of focus the Warp has on the host. Initial value is 0, safety threshold is 60. When attention exceeds 60, it may trigger Malicious Warp Gaze; over 80 may trigger Daemonic Dream Incursion; over 90 may trigger Chaos Assassin assassination; reaching 100 will draw a major invasion by a Daemon Prince-level force.]

[Reminder: Please use psychic powers with caution to avoid excessive exposure.]

Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat, and his fingers unconsciously clenched, his knuckles turning white.

He was very familiar with this setting—in the world of Warhammer 40K, Psykers were like torches in the dark, both powerful and dangerous. Using psychic powers would attract the attention of Chaos. And the attention of Chaos usually meant death and destruction.

"So I must carefully control the frequency of psychic power usage," he muttered to himself, his voice so low only he could hear. "Unless absolutely necessary, I cannot expose myself."

---

Late at night, the village gradually quieted down.

Lin Mo lay on the bed but couldn't fall asleep. The wooden bed creaked, making a sharp sound every time he turned over.

During the day, he had heard more information about this world from Chief Wang Defu—it was even more cruel than what the system had provided.

"Last month, Willow Village to the east was slaughtered by Orks," Wang Defu had said then, his tone as flat as if he were talking about the weather, but his eyes dimmed. "Over seventy people, and almost no one survived. We in Blackstone Village have lasted this long because we are cautious."

"Are there... many Orks?" he had asked at the time.

"More and more." Wang Defu's gaze drifted out the window, as if looking at a very distant place. "Since the Horus Heresy ended, the Imperium's control over the Eastern Star Sector has grown weaker and weaker. The armies have all been deployed to fight the war, leaving behind only the old, weak, and sick. We on these remote planets can only rely on ourselves."

Lin Mo thought of the villagers he had seen during the day—sallow, thin, with weary eyes, everyone carrying a certain numbness as if they could die at any moment.

In this world, death was not the exception; it was the daily routine.

And he, an ordinary person from the 21st century, had to survive in this hellish world.

"I will survive," Lin Mo said softly to the darkness, his voice as light as a sigh. "No matter the cost."

The wind outside howled like the cry of some wild beast.

---

The next morning, Lin Mo was awakened by the urgent sound of a gong.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Orks are attacking!"

The shrill shouts pierced the dawn, and the entire village instantly boiled over.

Lin Mo grabbed the spear placed by his bed—Rock had given it to him last night. It was pitifully crude; the spearhead was made of sharpened scrap iron with jagged edges, and the shaft was a rough wooden stick still covered in splinters.

He rushed out of the hut and saw the village was already in chaos.

Men were running toward the walls, their footsteps frantic. Women were shoving children into cellars, the children's cries heart-wrenching. The elderly huddled together with their few belongings, trembling, their lips quivering as if in prayer.

"Lin Mo! Over here!" Rock shouted from the wall, holding a notched longsword with dried blood on the blade.

Lin Mo ran over, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as if it were trying to break his ribs and burst out. He looked past the wall—about thirty or forty green-skinned Orks were charging from the direction of the hills, waving various weapons and letting out unpleasant roars that sounded like metal grinding together.

"How did they find this place?" a villager asked in terror, his voice shaking.

"Stop talking! Prepare for battle!" Rock roared, spittle flying.

Lin Mo gripped his spear tightly, his palms covered in sweat, making the shaft slippery.

This was his first time facing real combat—it wasn't a game, it wasn't a movie, but a life-and-death struggle. The price of losing was death, with no do-overs.

The Orks drew closer; their hideous faces and yellowed tusks were now visible. Their green skin was covered in scars, and their eyes were a murky yellow, like rotten eggs. A wave of air mixed with the stench of rotting meat, rust, and wild beast musk hit him, nearly making Lin Mo gag. His hand gripping the spear was pricked by a splinter, and the small sting made him more alert. He glanced at the bows and arrows in the hands of the villagers nearby; the bowstaves were made of old hardwood, the strings were worn shiny, and the arrowheads were so blunt they might not even pierce tree bark.

Fifty meters. Thirty meters. Ten meters.

"Fire!" Rock ordered.

A few villagers with bows released a volley of arrows, the bowstrings humming. But the effect was minimal—only two Orks were hit, and they merely stumbled before continuing their charge, the arrows stuck in their thick muscle like toothpicks.

"Prepare for melee!"

The Orks slammed into the wall with a dull thud.

The battle had begun.

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