Having dealt with the water purifier, Li Qingyu armed himself with a hammer drill, connected the power, and headed to the corner of the shelter. Aiming at the ceramic floor, he began to drill – he needed to make a drain.
He had previously descended to the level below and knew that a huge shaft, several hundred meters deep, ran beneath the floor, completely studded with ceramic load-bearing columns. What lay hidden below, in the impenetrable darkness, remained a mystery.
After spending some time, Li Qingyu drilled two fist-sized holes in the floor. Then, using a tin toilet bowl bought from the trader, pipes, and ceramic grit, he built a perfectly functional flush toilet. The problem of the toilet was solved, except that water had to be poured into the tank manually.
Restroom Lvl.0 upgraded to Restroom Lvl.1.
Li Qingyu poured water into the showerhead and took a cold shower with pleasure. All the dirty water went down the drain. After tidying himself up, he washed his smelly clothes and sheets, hung them to dry, and fell into a dead sleep.
He woke up at an unknown time. After automatically eating something and drinking, he checked the production. The candles on the Emperor's altar had burned out, and the second bottle of Holy Oil was ready. He collected the oil, lit a new candle, and poured in the next portion of cooking oil.
Then he went to the purifier. In the first settling tank, only dirt remained at the bottom, and in the second, 99 liters of safe water sloshed. Li Qingyu went to get a new batch of dirty water, refilled the system, threw in a tablet so the process wouldn't stop, and began to prepare for a raid.
This time, he planned to go to the surface, look for PSS tokens, and also find out from Lieutenant Rudolson if they would give him armor-piercing weapons. The trader had given him a quest to kill three Chem-swines, and you couldn't take down those creatures with bare hands. Last time he just got lucky – it was foolish to expect such luck again, he needed proper armor-piercing rounds.
Li Qingyu slung the shotgun made of plumbing pipes, left over from his last outing, over his back, put on his level two armor set, grabbed two smoke and one gas grenade, and headed for the ventilation. The deployment went without incident.
Again, dizziness – and again, the Northern Combat Zone. He landed not far from the previous point; a Grain Station was visible on the map. It used to be held by rebels, but then Lieutenant Rudolson went through there in his "Chimera" and cleared out all living things. Some time had passed since then, and it was unclear who controlled the facility now. Li Qingyu decided to check.
Raising his homemade gun, he rushed towards the station, which was two kilometers away. It was noon, but he didn't hide, he just went straight ahead. If a sniper shot him – so be it, his equipment was garbage anyway.
Having spent two-thirds of his stamina, he reached his destination but didn't go inside. He lay down, caught his breath, and began to observe. The station was surrounded by a wall of construction ceramic, and inside, a grain warehouse and an office building were visible. A huge breach gaped in the wall, clearly made by a BMP "Chimera."
Pressing himself against the edge of the breach, Li Qingyu cautiously peered inside. Chaos reigned there: the walls and the ground were riddled with craters from a 40mm autocannon, and corpses lay everywhere. Rudolson had simply conducted a punitive raid then, without trying to secure the area, so as soon as he left, the rebels returned.
Now, rebels were scurrying around – about a hundred people. They were collecting bodies and loading them onto carts. Many were armed with assault rifles and some gruesome homemade weapons.
"Can't break through? Retreat?" he calculated.
Lost in thought, he noticed a rebel who was barely dragging a cart, piled high with corpses, heading north. It seemed he was taking them to be buried? Li Qingyu had an idea. Processing bodies? What if he followed him? Perhaps there would be PSS soldiers' corpses at the burial site – then he could make a good profit from their dog tags.
But there were a lot of rebels, and the further north he went, the denser they became. How to discreetly follow the corpse cart? After pondering the options for a bit, Li Qingyu came up with a daring plan.
He smeared his face, hands, and clothes with dirt and dust, and then, with the most nonchalant expression, entered the station's territory. He just walked in, calmly, as if he had drunk a glass of water. None of the rebels even looked his way. They had no uniforms, no standard weapons, and Li Qingyu, in his rags, perfectly blended into the crowd.
Nervous, but without turning his head, he kept the corpse cart in his field of vision. It was being pulled by some scrawny young man, and it was a huge effort for him.
Li Qingyu approached and began to push the cart from behind. The young man, feeling it become lighter, turned around.
"Move it, don't lag, there's still a lot to do," Li Qingyu grumbled, not lifting his head.
"Ah, alright, thanks," the young man replied and leaned harder on the straps.
So, the two of them rolled the cart out of the station, heading north, into rebel territory.
The further they went, the more people they encountered. Li Qingyu saw well-kept fields where locals were working. Genuine smiles shone on people's faces. It seemed the rebels' agrarian policy was much more humane than the Planetary Governor's. But Li Qingyu understood: it was an illusion. If the Governor were to be late with the imperial tithe – a fleet of tax collectors with an inquisitor on board would appear, and it would be the end of everyone – both loyalists and rebels.
However, it didn't concern him. He was just a bandit from the Lower Hive, dreaming of making something of himself.
After dragging the cart for some time, the young man gave out and plopped down on the roadside.
"Phew, I'm going to die, I need to catch my breath!" He was breathing heavily, sitting on a tussock, and looking at Li Qingyu. He was about to say something, but suddenly tensed up. "Hey, what unit are you from?"
Li Qingyu, lighting a cigarette, froze for a moment, but then continued to move.
"From the fourth."
The young man's pupils narrowed.
"We don't have a fourth unit."
Li Qingyu slowly lit his cigarette, looked around – no one. Then he turned his gaze to the young man.
Thirty seconds later, Li Qingyu was wiping blood from his knife. Then he picked up the body with a severed throat, which was still twitching weakly, and threw it on top of the other corpses in the cart.
"You always do this," he muttered to himself. "You ask stupid questions. You dug your own grave. In your next life, be less curious."
Sprinkling dirt over the bloodstains, he single-handedly dragged the now heavier cart further. Soon, he came across an old peasant working in the field.
"Grandpa," Li Qingyu called out. "I'm new here, I don't know the way. The commander ordered me to take the stiffs, where's your burial ground?"
"Go another two kilometers north on this road, then turn left. You'll see a big pit – that's the burial ground," the old man replied.
"Got it, thanks, Grandpa!"
Li Qingyu walked another two kilometers and indeed stumbled upon a pit where the rebels were dumping corpses.