Chapter 23: A Hundred Ways

The Interrogation Room

"You Win."

Riley leaned back in her cold, metal chair, exhaling a slow, resigned breath.

She had lost.

Resistance was pointless.

She had no leverage left.

Across from her, Qin Mo grinned with a predatory light in his eyes

"As punishment, I've decided to reassign you."

His tone was mockingly light.

"You'll be transferred to the next outpost… as a rifleman."

Riley bolted upright, alarm flaring in her eyes.

"You can't punish me."

She declared firmly.

"You need me alive.

Don't you want me to delete your criminal records?"

Qin Mo scoffed.

"You?"

His tone dripped with amusement.

He lifted her data-slate, interfacing it with his helmet's neural link.

Then, he gave a simple command.

"Access Tyrone Hive's Adeptus Arbites database. Make a hundred copies of my records. Then delete them a hundred different ways."

["Acknowledged."]

His AI responded immediately.

["Duplicating records now—"]

"Wait, I was joking! Don't actually copy them! If this backfires, it'll be a disaster!"

["Records deleted."]

Qin Mo paused.

He manually searched his own name.

No results.

Not a single trace.

 His entire criminal record had been expunged as though erased by the Emperor's own hand.

"...That was easier than I expected."

Qin Mo muttered, genuine surprise lacing his words.

"Does the Arbites never upgrade their firewalls? I was planning to design a virus to infiltrate their systems offline. But this? This was too easy."

Riley stared, horrified.

The intricacies of Data security was a labyrinth beyond her ken.

She only knew one thing.

Her last bargaining chip was gone.

"Your Name is Riley, Riley Weather, Correct?"

Qin Mo typed into the console.

Riley's eyes widened in terror as she realized his intent.

"No—NO! STOP!" she screamed.

"Delete her records."

["Acknowledged. Deletion complete."]

Qin Mo turned the display toward her.

Her name had vanished from the digital archives.

She was now a ghost in the Arbites archives—a non-entity.

Riley's expression twisted through a spectrum of emotions.

First, shock.

Then, rage.

Then, grief.

Then, despair.

Then, rage again.

And finally—

Confusion.

She had no inkling of what fate awaited her now.

....

Qin Mo smiled.

"You will be implanted with the memories of a fallen soldier. Then, you will be sent to the battlefield."

He paused, his tone shifting imperiously. "But for now, I have more important matters to handle."

Rising from his seat, he strode to the door.

Turning to the guard outside, a hulking figure in power armour, he issued a final order—

"Lock her up."

Grot nodded.

"Understood."

He entered the room, while Qin Mo headed toward the briefing chamber.

....

The Underground Bunker

Grey lay on his cot, staring at his severed arm.

Across from him, Qin Mo sat hunched over a workbench littered with blueprints and schematics.

In one hand, he sketched intricate designs.

in the other, he manipulated virtual circuits with a precision that bespoke both genius and madness.

He was utterly absorbed in his work.

His goal?

To build an augmentation far superior to a mere organic limb.

"Don't worry."

Qin Mo murmured without looking up, his voice a blend of reassurance and clinical detachment.

"Your new arm will be faster, stronger, and far more precise than your original."

He tapped a schematic. "I'm integrating a telekinetic module—

You'll be able to move objects remotely, or crush them with a mere thought."

He leaned in closer. "It will also feature a built-in psyker suppressor, powered directly by your own heart."

Grey froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Wait, what? You're wiring it to my heart? What if something goes wrong? Will this give me a heart attack?!"

Qin Mo shrugged.

"There's a 1% chance of complications.

But you won't die. Trust my craftsmanship."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Grey grumbled, his tone laced with apprehension.

Qin Mo scoffed lightly.

"Your original arm wasn't perfect either.

Didn't your back ever ache? Didn't your joints ever fail you?

Don't be a flesh-purist.

Flesh is weak.

Flesh is failure."

Grey's voice dropped, raw with memory.

"My mother died of sickness.

I understand better than anyone—

Flesh is fragile."

"Then stop whining and hold still."

....

Qin Mo began the surgery.

Using his abilities, he fused flesh and metal seamlessly.

The new augment became one with Grey's body.

Blood vessels wove into synthetic circuits.

Nerves linked with artificial synapses.

The transition was flawless.

....

Grey sat up slowly.

He flexed his new hand experimentally.

Then, he tested it.

A battered cup on a nearby crate floated gracefully across the room.

With a thought, he pulled it into his grasp.

"It feels… real."

Grey muttered in awe.

"Even more than before."

Qin Mo nodded approvingly.

"Your arm can now detect vital signs with a mere touch.

It can analyze toxins in the air, among countless other functions.

You'll learn its full capabilities in time."

A slow grin spread across Grey's face.

"This is better than my original arm.

I wonder just how far you could push augmentation."

Qin Mo's eyes gleamed with a dangerous promise.

"I could rebuild you on a cellular level.

I could make you a living war machine."

Grey chuckled

"That's tempting."

Then, Silence.

Qin Mo suddenly asked—

"Did you kill Laun?"

Grey froze, caught off-guard

He didn't know how to answer.

If he denied it, Qin Mo might think he actually considered betraying him.

If he admitted it, Qin Mo might resent him for acting prematurely.

Qin Mo smirked.

"You did well."

Grey blinked, confused.

"But next time—

Don't act before I do.

I wanted to kill him even more than you did."

Grey stared, then asked quietly.

"Then why did you show him so much respect?

Weren't you trying to lure him out and finish him off yourself?"

Qin Mo shook his head slowly.

"Not everything must be solved immediately."

He turned back to his workbench and resumed designing new weapons with the detached focus.

....

Grey peered over his shoulder at two schematics illuminated on a holo-display.

One was a design for a new standard infantry weapon.

The other—

A detection device of alien complexity.

Grey could understand the rifle.

But the other…

"What's this for?"

Qin Mo grinned, tapping the blueprint lightly.

"Now that I control the defensive line, it's time to go on the offensive.

We will strike at the heart of the enemy.

Grey interjected, "But we don't even know where their leader is."

Qin Mo's grin widened as he replied.

"We will find him. This device will locate him."

....

The leader of the Genestealer Cults—the Patriarch.

A monstrous six-meter tall abomination.

Its mind was the nexus of their entire hive-mind.

It was their origin.

Their prophet.

Their god.

Qin Mo's plan?

Force the heretics into an all-out attack.

Let them overextend.

Force them to reveal the hidden tendrils of their psychic network.

Then, using his device, he would trace the network back to the Patriarch's lair.

And when he found it?

He would throw everything he had at it.

If the Patriarch could not be slain—

He would extract its blood.

With that, he could craft a weapon to exterminate the entire cult.

Grey smirked, his voice resonating with grim determination.

"Whatever you need me to do—

Wherever you need me to fight—

I will go."

Qin Mo nodded.

"You will."