Chapter 92: Small Temples, Wild Winds

One week later. 

Inside the command building, Qin Mo sat at the conference table, as he often did, carving out time from his research to handle other matters. 

Present were all the regimental commanders and the elite guards. 

Klein was reporting the most pressing issue of the moment. 

"The recruits have completed their training—one million in total. Midway through, we followed Creed's training plan. I have to admit, the Cardians know their military tactics." 

"The 44th Regiment can now be rebuilt." 

After hearing the report, Qin Mo nodded, though he still felt that a million soldiers were far too few. 

In a Hive World, which housed a vast population, a million was almost negligible. 

Even Tyrone Hive, one of the smaller hive worlds, had yet to fully register its inhabitants, but according to the central AI's estimates, there were at least two billion people living in this single Hive. 

"We've been recruiting ever since we left the Underhive, and now, finally, the Hive has been secured... training is complete at last," Gray remarked with a sigh, recalling how the elite guards had once roamed the Underhive alongside the logistics units, recruiting men while those machines built water purifiers. Back then, they thought the recruits would at least fight in the war to seize the Hive World. 

"Will we have enough weapons and equipment for so many?" Andreda asked, worried. 

"More than enough," Qin Mo affirmed with absolute certainty. 

From the moment the central AI and the logistics units were created, those machines had been ceaselessly self-replicating and manufacturing. With their printing systems running day and night, there was no doubt that there were sufficient weapons. 

Qin Mo was increasingly convinced that developing printing technology had been one of his wisest decisions. Without it, even with the tireless labor of the logistics machines, they could never have produced powered armor for every soldier. 

"When do we begin the assault on Tyrone II?" Gray asked, deep in thought. 

"Once the warships are built. Soon," Qin Mo replied. 

Gray nodded quietly, lost in contemplation. 

"You're now the Governor," Andreda suddenly interjected with a topic unrelated to war. 

As Buhl's secretary, Andreda often viewed things from perspectives other than warfare. He felt that Qin Mo had left many things undone, including holding a grand ceremony for his new title. 

"We should stay focused on the war," Qin Mo said with a faint smile, his tone calm. "Whether there's a ceremony or not doesn't change the fact that I am the Governor of this Hive World." 

"Of course, you've earned that right, but still…" 

"We must devote our time to more important matters." 

"I understand," Andreda said, sensing Qin Mo's firm stance. He dropped the idea, realizing that Qin Mo had no need to prove his position through ceremonies, nor to show his face to the Hive's populace. A ceremony, indeed, seemed rather insignificant. 

"Is there anything else anyone wishes to bring up?" Qin Mo asked the room. 

The others shook their heads. 

"You're all dismissed," Qin Mo said, indicating the meeting was over. 

Everyone rose, bowed, and left—everyone except Gray. 

Qin Mo knew Gray had something to say, so he waited. 

"Can Grot participate in the war on Tyrone II?" Gray asked directly, without preamble. "Not as an elite guard, but as a regular soldier." 

"He can," Qin Mo answered without hesitation. 

Gray blinked in surprise, almost disbelieving. "Really?" 

"Really," Qin Mo replied, after a brief pause to consider his reasoning. "Civilian life is eroding his mental state. If he's willing to fight, let him." 

"Great!" Gray nodded vigorously, eager to deliver the news to Grot. 

Qin Mo patted Gray on the shoulder, intending to offer some advice to Grot, but then thought better of it and swallowed his words. 

Grot wasn't Yaon. He wasn't an Untouchable. 

Not everyone in this universe is willing to speak in riddles, but some truths are too dangerous to be shared. This was a universe where, for most, knowing more was more perilous. 

After considering it further, Qin Mo added, "I'll make him the squad leader of one of the newly formed units in the 44th Regiment. He has combat experience; he doesn't need to start as a common soldier." 

"I'll pass that on. Thank you, Governor," Gray said, bowing in gratitude before turning to leave. 

Night. 

Qin Mo rested his head on the desk. 

When he opened his eyes in his dream, he found himself once again in the place where he had previously encountered the Simulacrum. 

This time, the Simulacrum had taken the form of an explosive rifle. 

"Long time no see," Qin Mo said, sitting before the Simulacrum. He looked at it and asked, "Haven't seen you in a while. Have you been busy generating power for the Fearless, or fighting their wars?" 

"Don't joke about my tragic fate," the Simulacrum, now a middle-aged man, said with an angry glare at Qin Mo. 

Qin Mo looked at him with indifference, unshaken. 

With a resigned sigh, the Simulacrum revealed why it had sought him out again: "I've recalled one of my abilities. I can let you directly see what's happening on the other two planets in the Tyrone System." 

"Is that so? I thought all you could offer was some vague prophecy," Qin Mo said, surprised. 

"Of course I can. How else do you think I found you?" The Simulacrum shifted from a man into a screen and immediately began showing Qin Mo images of the other planets. 

But instead of the images appearing on the screen, the environment around them transformed, making the two planets vividly real. 

Qin Mo stood between them, observing them quietly. 

The Simulacrum zoomed in, showing detailed scenes on each world. 

Tyrone II was as Qin Mo had expected—the stronghold of the cultists who worshiped the Lord of Wisdom. They were constantly conducting rituals, likely preparing for another grand scheme. However, resistance forces still lingered on the planet, with billions of loyalists hiding and fighting in the planet's darkest sewers. At their most desperate, the Eldar would come to their aid. 

The cities on this world were built like citadels, with the largest even shielded by protective barriers. From space, the massive fortress-cities were clearly visible. 

Tyrone III, however, was what Qin Mo was most concerned about. 

The planet was under bombardment from two frigates, though the attack seemed futile, as the inhabitants lived entirely underground. 

The situation on Tyrone III was grotesque. Its people indulged in depraved pleasures, testing the limits of human experience—such as a drinking contest, where the goal was not to drink the most, but to burst one's stomach first. 

Apart from the fallen degenerates, there were also Orks and Genestealers on the planet. 

Oddly enough, the Genestealers were locked in battle with the Orks and the heretical cultists, storming an underground city. Thousands of them escorted a single banner-bearer, shouting praises to the Four-Armed Emperor as they charged headlong into heavy fire. 

In the end, the banner-bearer was shot, but several others took his place, roaring as they raised the standard high. 

Four figures pushed the banner forward—one clutching the pole, while the others pushed from behind—until the double-headed eagle with four arms was planted in the heart of the city, proclaiming it for the Four-Armed Emperor. 

"This star system…" Qin Mo was deeply shaken. "A small temple, yet the winds howl wild; a shallow pond, and the turtles are many indeed."