"Brother Zhou Yun, why'd you hit me?"
Lag squinted his ugly, drink-spoiling face full of grievance, blood oozing from the wrinkles.
Seeing that the blood was human and his expression dazed, Zhou Yun shook his head.
Looked like this old rat really didn't have anything to do with the Genestealers—he just happened to sell him the location of a ruin where they were active.
Thinking that, Zhou Yun couldn't help giving his face another punch.
Lag rubbed his bloody face, pretending nothing happened, and sat down at the bar.
"Two bowls of booze, one plate of synth-protein."
Old One-Eye glanced at him and tossed a black slab of protein onto the counter.
"Brother Zhou Yun, did you know? There are four ways to cook synth-protein." Lag grinned.
"And the word for 'fennel' has four ways to write it—did you know?" Zhou Yun asked as he drank.
"I can't even write one."
Lag stuffed the sticky protein into his mouth and chewed noisily.
"But I do know… your chance to get rich is coming."
Zhou Yun's brow furrowed slightly. "Get rich? Your boss has a job for me?"
"Big job." Lag grinned and drained his scarlet drink.
"Old One-Eye's brew is getting better. Better than Amasec!"
"Yeah right. You've never even had Amasec." Old One-Eye shot him a look of contempt.
"One day I will." Lag smirked, then looked back at Zhou Yun. "Boss wants a batch of weapons."
"Fine. What type?"
Long ago Zhou Yun had redeemed the naniwa (anywhere ring), which let him pass freely through the walls of ancient buried districts. Combined with his dimensional pouch, he'd hauled out countless weapons and machinery.
Gangs always needed weapons, and the ones Zhou Yun found were relics from better times—far superior to the local junk.
Over time, he'd earned himself a bit of a name among the underhive gangs.
"Boss wants a batch of Agripinaa-3 pattern las carbines. Two hundred to start." Lag grinned.
"…Fine."
Zhou Yun froze, then nodded seriously.
"How about I get you five hundred Ironsteed-pattern Terminator suits too?"
"You can even get those?!" Lag gaped at him.
Judging by his eyes, Zhou Yun knew he didn't even know what he'd just said—just thought it sounded impressive.
"Not just that. I could even get you an archangel's force spear." Zhou Yun said earnestly.
"…Brother, you're joking, right?" Lag blinked.
"You can tell I'm joking?" Zhou Yun rubbed his brow.
Agripinaa-3 las carbines—manufactured on the famous Forge World Agripinaa—were nothing special. Even the Guard didn't think much of them. Mostly second-rate PDF units used them.
But even those PDF units were way out of the gangs' league.
"These two hundred rifles—what, your gang's planning to storm the upper hive and 'educate' the governor himself?"
Zhou Yun shook his head.
"Just get some local rifles. If you want these you'll have to rob the PDF's depot."
"That's exactly right. The PDF's depot." Lag grinned.
At that, not just Zhou Yun, but even Old One-Eye behind the bar nearly spat his drink.
Robbing the PDF—that wasn't just about guts.
That was pissing on the governor's own head.
Even as lazy as he was, he wouldn't ignore something like that.
"Wait." Old One-Eye looked up at Lag. "You guys found out about Sector Eight?"
"Sector Eight?" Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow. Old One-Eye had mentioned it earlier.
"Sector Eight was an old district in the upper hive, a hundred years ago. Plague broke out, killed a lot of people."
"The governor back then blew up the whole district to stop it spreading to the spire."
"Sector Eight fell into the depths of the underhive."
Old One-Eye shook his head.
"Everyone—patients, residents, even the PDF sent to put down riots—buried down there."
"Apparently there's still a PDF garrison site down there. And our PDF uses Agripinaa-3s."
Hearing that, Zhou Yun frowned.
"You want me to go dig those weapons out?"
"So that's your plan. But the plague…"
Words like cauldron, garden, virus, and father floated through his mind.
And the fact it was called 'Sector Eight'…
"…Over a hundred years ago. Everyone's long dead. No plague left." Lag waved a hand.
"The scavenger who found the entrance is still alive, others have gone in too."
"No risk? No. But boss is paying well."
Lag raised a finger and showed Zhou Yun the number.
Zhou Yun hesitated.
In his memory, Ashford and the Hades system had seen bugs, greenskins, even necrons—but never a warp incursion.
Maybe Sector Eight really wasn't touched by the cauldron-stirring god.
And the gang only wanted two hundred rifles. There were probably more in that depot.
All of which he could convert to pouch credits—or sell to the gang and resell for more.
The sneaky ones in the ruins, the expanding Ark Gang, the white figure calling itself Saint Gilles and warning of the coming swarm…
Zhou Yun needed that dokodemo doa fast.
He nodded. "Fine. I'll take it."
Hearing that, both Lag and even Old One-Eye's one remaining eye gleamed.
Old One-Eye waved at Lag. "Lag, go away. I've got words for Zhou Yun."
"…Fine." Lag took his protein and drink and slunk to a corner.
"I've got a job for you." Old One-Eye looked at Zhou Yun.
"Why does everyone have a job for me?" Zhou Yun muttered.
"Because you're capable. The Emperor teaches us to work hard."
Old One-Eye grinned and leaned in.
"You ever heard of Ignace Karkasy?"
"Sure. Poet of the Great Crusade. Remembrancer on the 63rd Expedition Fleet." Zhou Yun answered immediately.
Old One-Eye nodded. "Didn't expect you to know. Usually only the spire lords…"
"…Wait. You know about him?"
(End of Chapter)
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