26: Chapter 26 Space Dwarfs

"Yes, yes, yes! You're absolutely right to lecture me! I spoke out of turn!"

The scrawny man bowed repeatedly in terror, his waist bending so low it almost touched the ground.

He was now completely convinced that those terrifying gods of slaughter were definitely hidden in the shadows, or that this was just the tip of the iceberg of a massive underground base!

"Let's get down to business."

Lin Li walked over to the metal table and sat down, resting the halberd across his lap.

"Since you say you're here to do business, I'd like to hear what your Mountain Tribe can offer me."

The scrawny man quickly composed himself, putting on the professional face of a merchant.

"My Lord, although our Mountain Tribe is poor, we occupy several of the largest abandoned mines in the north. We have an ample slave population, as well as various refined ores and scrap metal resources!"

He lowered his voice, a hint of shrewdness in his tone:

"Your side could use high-purity food or the fine handcrafted weapons you manufacture for trade. Of course, this would all be bartering, without using any currency issued by the Imperium."

The scrawny man chuckled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth:

"This way... we can perfectly avoid the taxes of that greedy Planetary Governor in Coastal City to the east. What do you think?"

Hearing the terms 'Planetary Governor' and 'Coastal City'...

Lin Li's pupils contracted slightly.

He had been in this world for some time, but he didn't know much about the planet's macro-situation.

This was the first time he had heard definite intelligence about the remnants of the Imperium of Man from a native's mouth!

He had heard of Coastal City from scavengers, but the Planetary Governor was a first.

However, he remained as steady as an old dog on the surface, his paralyzed face showing no emotional fluctuations.

"We are merely a pioneer team temporarily stationed here."

Lin Li leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, asking in a casual yet superior, probing tone:

"This outpost indeed lacks some basic supplies. However, before discussing big business, I'd like to confirm what this planet's primary function is within the Imperium's administrative system."

The scrawny man froze for a moment, clearly not expecting this mysterious big shot to ask such a common-knowledge question.

But he didn't dare overthink it and quickly answered honestly:

"Recycling trash, of course, My Lord! This planet's designation is [Wasteland-7]."

The man pointed toward the east, swallowed hard, and continued:

"On the other side of the mountains is a mountain-sized junkyard. The prosperous Hive Worlds and heavy industrial planets in the surrounding systems dump hundreds of millions of tons of industrial waste and household trash here."

"The residents of Coastal City to the east, and all the settlements in this wasteland, basically survive by recycling the usable materials remaining in that trash."

At this point, the man's expression turned somewhat grim, and his voice dropped lower:

"But... as you know, My Lord, since the Great Rift erupted, the entire Galaxy has been split in two. Our sector happens to be on the very edge of the Imperium Nihilus."

"The administrative power of Holy Terra and the Astra Militarum haven't reached here in a long time."

The Planetary Governor of Coastal City has now essentially become a local warlord leader.

This place is quite chaotic, but the rules that must be followed still apply.

Paying a recycling tax to the Governor regularly is the biggest rule on the wasteland. Anyone who dares not pay will have the Governor's private guard come in armored vehicles to slaughter their village."

"And..."

The man looked at the Ork blood on the weapon rack with lingering fear.

"Lately, it's said that more and more Orks have been appearing in the north, even forming an extremely massive tribe. Going north to recycle trash now is almost a certain death sentence."

Lin Li listened and nodded noncommittally.

"Wasteland-7, a trash recycling planet, a warlord Governor with his own army, and an even larger Ork tribe to the north..."

Lin Li calculated silently in his heart; this meant the Shelter's future survival environment would be extremely harsh.

"I understand your sincerity. How should I address you?"

"Black Rat, My Lord."

Lin Li stopped tapping the table and leaned forward slightly, staring into the man's eyes with an oppressive gaze:

"Since your Mountain Tribe is rich in resources, I need something right now. If you can get it, I can trade you high-purity synthetic food or extremely fine weapons for it."

Black Rat's eyes lit up, and he quickly leaned in:

"What do you need, My Lord? As long as it exists on this wasteland, we will definitely get it for you!"

"I need at least one liter of Nano-Repair Fluid," Lin Li said flatly.

"Hiss—!"

Hearing that name, Black Rat sucked in a breath of cold air, and his smiling expression instantly froze.

He looked at Lin Li as if he were a madman, waving his hands repeatedly.

"My... My Lord, please don't joke! A liter of Nano-Repair Fluid?! A single drop of that stuff can repair the bolt of a Bolter. A liter is enough to completely fix a large-scale relic generation device!"

Black Rat said with a bitter face and a look of despair, "A creation of this level—forget our Mountain Tribe, even if you turned the entire wasteland upside down, you wouldn't find a single drop!"

"However..."

Black Rat hesitated for a moment, seemingly remembering some rumors.

"I've heard that those 'Shorty Merchants' wandering between the stars occasionally have some of this miraculous liquid leak out from their hands. But they are mysterious and elusive; they look down on us trash-picking natives, and we have no channels to contact them."

"Shorty Merchants?" Lin Li's eyes shifted slightly.

"Alright, I understand."

Lin Li didn't press further. He waved his hand, directly dismissing the guest:

"Take your people and get back to the Mountain Tribe. Tell your leader that if you want to do business, walk over openly during the day with sincerity. If I find you sneaking around the camp after dark again..."

Lin Li patted the halberd in his hand. "I will personally go to your caves and bury you all under the mine shafts."

"Yes, yes, yes! Understood! We definitely won't dare again!"

Black Rat felt as if he had been granted a grand pardon, nodding like a woodpecker as he scrambled to follow Lin Li into the elevator.

The elevator doors hissed shut, sending the scrawny man back to the surface.

Lin Li sat alone on the cold metal chair, fiddling with a brass shell casing, his brow furrowed tightly.

"Shorty Merchants..."

He chewed on the term repeatedly, and the Warhammer setting immediately came to mind.

If he wasn't mistaken, the 'shorties' Black Rat mentioned were the Leagues of Votann!

In the Warhammer universe, they are an extremely special branch of abhumans.

They are technically human, descendants who inherited the technology of Terra's Golden Age!

They are starkly different from the current bunch in the Imperium—those Adeptus Mechanicus zealots who kowtow to toasters all day and treat science as theology.

The Leagues of Votann are a group that truly understands and masters technology.

They don't engage in feudal superstitions.

They possess extremely advanced ion weaponry, terrifyingly powerful railguns, and have even popularized the stable and safe plasma technology that makes Space Marines green with envy.

The quality of their power armor is leagues ahead of the Imperium's mass-produced junk!

Most importantly, like Lin Li, they haven't experienced the shadow of an AI rebellion.

In the Leagues of Votann, artificial intelligences are known as Ironkin.

Not only were they not destroyed, but they are also treated as equal citizens and comrades-in-arms, fighting side-by-side with the dwarves.

"If anyone can produce Nano-Repair Fluid, it's definitely them." Lin Li slapped his thigh.

If he could establish a connection with the Leagues of Votann, let alone a liter of Nano-Repair Fluid, even buying a few fully automated railgun production lines wouldn't be a dream.

And since the local natives knew of the dwarves' existence, it meant that Votann merchant ships must have operated in this sector or on this planet.

Thinking of this, Lin Li's eyes suddenly brightened.

He turned abruptly to look at STC-73 floating in mid-air.

"73!" Lin Li's tone was somewhat excited.

"Since the local natives know about the dwarves, do you have a way to contact them? Even sending an encrypted radio signal would do! Let's buy some Nano-Fluid!"

However...

STC-73's crimson optical lens only flickered coldly twice, ruthlessly dousing him with a bucket of ice water.

"Creator, please cease your fantasies filled with Earth-style online shopping logic."

73's mechanical voice was extremely cold:

"Interstellar communication is not as simple as making a phone call on Earth."

"In this universe teeming with Warp storms, to transmit information off this planet, we need psychic assistance or an FTL astropathic communication array! And we have none of those."

"We have no astropaths, no navigation matrices. In the vast communication network of the Galaxy, the current Fire Seed Shelter is completely blind and mute."

Lin Li covered his face in pain and sighed: "It's a deadlock..."

Without Nano-Repair Fluid, the Matter Constructor in Workshop No. 3 could not undergo deep repairs.

With the main quest stuck, the third underground floor couldn't be opened, and he couldn't summon more 'beasts of burden' to work for him.

"It seems this mess will eventually fall on the players' shoulders. I can only wait for those guys to reach a higher level and see if they can loot some repair fluid from that food factory."

...

Meanwhile.

On the surface, at the outskirts of the broken village ruins.

The elevator doors opened.

The scrawny man took a deep breath of the cold wasteland air. The suffocating pressure he felt in the underground Shelter finally dissipated a little.

His face, which had appeared honest and humble in front of Lin Li, turned dark the moment he stepped out of the cover!

The humility vanished.

In its place was the coldness and cunning unique to wasteland scavengers.

Using the cover of night, he moved quickly across the dunes and returned to his team.

"Boss!"

A dozen subordinates lying in the sand pits with crude rifles quickly gathered around.

"What's the situation inside? Are they fat sheep? Do you want the brothers to head over now and take them out?"

"Take them out my ass!"

The scrawny man slapped the back of the proposing subordinate's head and hissed angrily, "If you want to die, don't drag me with you!"

He snatched back his automatic rifle and racked the bolt, deep wariness in his eyes.

"Down there is a perfectly preserved ancient base. Moreover, that guy is a tough character who can solo an adult Ork!"

In the scrawny man's mind, the image of those greataxes dripping with green blood on the weapon rack resurfaced, and his body couldn't help but shiver.

"Tell the brothers to put their safeties on."

"Let's go! Back to the tribe immediately!"

The dozen or so men felt as if they'd been spared, quickly scrambling up from the ground and sprinting toward the deep mountains to the northeast like a pack of jackals prowling in the night.

More than an hour later.

The merchant caravan finally arrived at the Mountain Tribe's camp.

"Open the gate! Boss Black Rat's caravan is back!"

Accompanied by the guards' shouts.

The heavy metal gates slowly pulled open to both sides.

Black Rat led his men, walking with large strides into the cave.

As soon as he entered.

A boy who looked sixteen or seventeen at most, thin as a bag of bones, immediately hunched his back and jogged over like a beaten dog.

The boy wore only a tattered sack so dirty its color was indistinguishable. His exposed skin was covered in new and old scars from whip lashes.

But unlike ordinary people, his ears seemed slightly pointed.

"My... My Lord, you're back."

The boy kept his head down, not even daring to look at Black Rat.

He skillfully reached out his calloused hands to take the heavy guns and ammo bags being unloaded by Black Rat and his men.

"Handle them gently! If you break my gun, I'll skin you alive!"

Black Rat impatiently kicked the boy's thigh.

The boy was kicked into a stumble and nearly fell, but he held onto the guns in his arms tightly, repeatedly begging for mercy:

"Yes! Yes!"

Black Rat didn't bother with such low-level vermin.

He straightened his collar and turned toward the upper levels of the cave.

That was the area where the tribe's rulers and high-ranking members lived.

There were bright lights, clean hot water pumped from underground veins, and soft beds and women plundered from the outside.

As for the frail boy.

He could only carry the pile of weapons, which was almost half his height, and struggle toward the nearby weapon storage room.

"Clang... Clang..."

With every step, a piercing sound of metal friction came from the boy's ankles.

It was a pair of heavy shackles.

The rough iron rings had long since rubbed his ankles into a bloody mess.

But he seemed to have lost all sense of pain, just walking forward numbly and mechanically.

In Warhammer, human life is the cheapest of consumables.

And slaves aren't even considered human; they are just breathing mining machines, sometimes even more useful than machines.

After handing over the weapons to a burly overseer...

The boy dragged his heavy steps to a dark and damp corner.

He just wanted to lean against the cold rock wall and catch his breath.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

From deep within the cave, a piercing and rapid metal clanging suddenly erupted!

It was the death-knell bell of the overseers, urging them into the mines!

The boy's body gave a violent shudder.

But he didn't dare hesitate for a second. He immediately forced his nearly collapsing body up, dragging his shackles as he limped toward the tool room.

"Number 4094, collecting tools."

The boy's voice was numb and hollow.

A rusty, heavy cross-pickaxe was roughly thrown at his feet.

The boy numbly picked up the pickaxe and turned around.

Before him was a mine shaft passage leading to the deepest part of the mountain.

The passage was filled with the pungent smell of sulfur, the stench of rotting corpses, and a high-temperature toxic gas that made breathing difficult.

Countless slaves entered this passage every day, but not even one in ten came out alive.

The boy lowered his head, gripped the pickaxe in his hand, and dragging those heavy shackles, step by step, he walked into that darkness.