The stash in the Lower Hive. Li Qingyu landed and immediately let out a triumphant cry.
"De-de-de-de-de!"
He took off his weapons, humming a pleased tune, and began to sort through his loot.
The return could be called incredibly successful: seventeen homemade pistols in good condition, twenty full magazines, twenty homemade grenades, each with a charge of over eight hundred grams.
Such a haul practically burst him from within. Delighted to the point of madness, he began cleaning the weapons, ignoring his fatigue.
All these rifles had been in the hands of rebels, and gunpowder residue remained in the barrels. If not cleaned properly, they would be corroded.
He methodically disassembled each pistol, checked the condition of the parts, completely removed the factory grease, and applied the sacred oil.
After assembly, Li Qingyu gently kissed each barrel, then carefully set it aside so that the machine spirit within could sleep sweetly – if there was one there, of course.
Each pistol took at least twenty minutes. Quite a hassle, but he enjoyed the process. A few hours of work – and all the rifles were in order.
Having dealt with the weapons and used up a bottle of sacred oil, he moved on to the magazines.
Li Qingyu extracted the cartridges from all twenty magazines. The spring cannot be kept compressed constantly – over time, it will lose its elasticity, leading to feeding failures and jams.
Having removed all the cartridges, he found a small wooden box for storing magazines and moved on to the grenades.
The rebels' homemade grenades were technically primitive but generously loaded: each weighed at least one and a half kilograms, of which eight hundred grams were explosives.
These, damn it, are not grenades at all, but compact bombs! However, quite in the spirit of the Warhammer 40k world, where all weapons follow the principle of "the bigger, the better."
It was easier with the grenades: he unscrewed the detonator from the body and put it aside. Now he wouldn't have to worry about being blown up in his sleep.
Having finished all this, he yawned – fatigue was rolling in waves.
He quickly baked a few potatoes, took a shower, ate and drank, and collapsed onto his cot.
Before finally falling asleep, he checked his stats.
Strength 14, Endurance 15, Energy 13 – all indicators increased by one unit.
Psionic Resistance 11, Psionic Mastery 11.
The increase in psionic resistance was understandable – Quiet controlled him, so the increase was logical. But why did psionic mastery increase?
He wanted Quiet to teach him psykering, but he himself had no idea how to implement it.
Psykers in this world seemed to be born that way. In the Warhammer 40k stories that Li Qingyu read in his past life, there were no cases of "learning to be a psyker" – only examples of innate psykers becoming stronger after training.
But looking at the status panel, he saw that psionic mastery had increased by one unit. How did that happen? Maybe contact with the psyker "infected" him?
Probably, to use psykering, he needed to raise psionic mastery and energy to a certain level.
Reflecting on this, he fell asleep. Such a calm and carefree sleep – I wonder how many in this world can afford it?
Upon waking, washing, and having breakfast, he checked the production in the shelter.
First, he was interested in the holy wine. By this time, the candles at the Emperor's altar had burned out, and the offering had been "consecrated."
Externally, it looked no different, but the system description had changed.
Name: Holy Wine.
Value: In the eyes of some, it can be a priceless treasure.
Durability: 10/10 (can be drunk 10 times).
Effect:
Supreme Holiness: The power of the Master of Mankind, the Emperor, protects you. You will not succumb to confusion, will not know fear, demons will not possess your flesh, Chaos cannot corrupt you, the light of Mankind is eternal.
Energy +10.
Holy Aura: When you stand before lesser demons and demon servants, they experience unbearable pain. Even high-ranking demons feel discomfort.
Duration: 24 hours.
Holy wine was displayed in the system as a golden consumable. A usable golden item!
Li Qingyu whistled. Is this mass production of legendaries?
And the effect is amazing! Especially the holy aura – it can cause discomfort to demons!
The Warhammer 40k world is a huge cesspool, and the Imperium's main problem is its inability to deal with demons.
Now Li Qingyu could resist demons in certain circumstances – he had the opportunity to protect himself.
He stroked the bottle, his heart trembling. How he wanted to sell it!
Just look at the value assessment: in the eyes of some – a priceless treasure!
Damn it, Li wasn't greedy. He didn't need any "priceless" – just give him a hundred thousand Korm coupons, and he'd be happy.
But the same problem: no sales channels, and he couldn't protect the goods!
"Damn it! I'm sitting on a mountain of treasure and can't get to it!"
Li Qingyu began pacing the room, desperately craving power!
But he saw no way out yet. Sighing and groaning, he wrapped the holy wine in a rag and hid it in a safe place.
Then he took a bottle from the distillation apparatus, loaded potato sugar and yeast for the next batch, and then approached the Emperor's altar, lit a candle, and placed the wine there, expecting to receive holy wine in twenty-four hours.
Having set up production, Li Qingyu took three vials of sacred oil, a few bottles of energy drink, and a mechanical key – he was going to visit the water pumping station again and complete all the quests there.
However, Quiet is still a psycho. Last time, the feeling when he was pressured by the psionic field was extremely unpleasant. If he suddenly decides to grab him this time, it will be really bad. He needed some backup.
He ran to the black marketeer Nipal's shop and asked him, who was fiddling with a pile of junk:
"Do you have any good ways to commit suicide?"
That's right, Li Qingyu was looking for a quick way to return to the warehouse. If he could kill himself at any moment, no one in this world could hold him!
The black marketeer Nipal looked at him like he was crazy and put a pistol to Li Qingyu's head.
Li Qingyu's face darkened.
"I meant a way to commit suicide when someone is controlling you and you can't move!"
The black marketeer Nipal scratched his back of the head with the muzzle and uttered one word:
"Yes. Knife, go to my room, second drawer, get something from there."
Soon, Knife brought out a small vial of medicine, placed it down, and greeted Li Qingyu.
The black marketeer Nipal extracted a thin, tiny pill from the vial, covered with some kind of coating.
"This is a special means for suicide bombers. Stick one on the inside of your tooth. If you want to return to the Emperor's embrace, just bite it."
Of course, if you don't even have the strength to bite it, after twenty-four hours, the capsule shell will dissolve from saliva and release a neurotoxin that can poison ten people. Then even the Emperor himself won't save you. A very dangerous thing.
So try not to keep it in your mouth and make sure children don't accidentally swallow it.
Li Qingyu took the vial and looked inside – there were about thirty pills.
"How much does it cost?"
"Ten thousand."
Li Qingyu whistled.
"So expensive?!"
The black marketeer Nipal took out his pistol and began twirling it on his finger, putting his index finger through the trigger guard.
"This is cheap. Only two hundred. You taking it?"
Li Qingyu quietly cursed him as a swindler and laid out two thousand.
The black marketeer Nipal took the money and began counting the bills one by one, a satisfied expression appearing on his face. Finally, he saw a repeat purchase from the plunderer – nice!
Li Qingyu put away the medicine, then remembered something and asked:
"By the way, if I also want to start a gang, what do I need for that?"
The merchant, counting money, froze.
"You want to start a gang?"
Li Qingyu nodded.
"I want to find people who will help me with my business."
The black marketeer Nipal looked at him, made sure he was serious, rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, and said:
"Come with me."
He put aside his current work and led Li Qingyu to a separate room deep in the shop. Sitting down, he began to speak:
"Gangs can be divided into two types. The first type is nomadic gangs, affiliated with larger groups. They have a small scale, no permanent staff or base, no work. They have nothing. They are just a few brave rats from the Lower Hive who have banded together. No prospects."
The second type is like our Korm gang. We have a permanent core, a permanent boss, a permanent base, and real production work.
My boss, Electroeye, is a man from the Upper Hive. He is registered with the planetary governor, and the Korm we produce is an offering to the planetary governor.
People like Boss Electroeye, who can reach the heavenly halls, establish gangs with real work. You must understand how important it is to have a real business in the Lower Hive.
Li Qingyu nodded. The society of the Lower Hive is incredibly cruel. A person without work is alive today and dead tomorrow. No guarantees.
But if you have work – any work – your life gets a certain protection. You already surpass ninety percent of the inhabitants of the Lower Hive.
In the Lower Hive, work is usually provided by large gangs like the Korm gang. To supply Korm upwards, they need workers in the factories.
The Korm gang only recruits those who have families: relatives go to work in the factory, and able-bodied men go to fight and risk their lives.
The Chemical gang is roughly the same. Their main product is some kind of chemicals, also supplied to the planetary governor. Narco-needle is just a byproduct.
In short, Li Qingyu could establish either a small gang or a large one.
If a small one – just find a few people for money to help with business, and then join a large gang, and he can survive.
But he won't provide stable real work, so people won't stay long. High staff turnover, and loyalty is out of the question.
As for a large gang – you need the status of an Upper Hive resident, registration with the planetary governor, and a real business.
Then he will seize a piece of territory in the Lower Hive, and people will come looking for work themselves. Copy the Korm gang model – and a bunch of loyal, reliable fighters will gather around Li Qingyu.
Of course, the second option is impossible. Li Qingyu doesn't have such social status yet.
The black marketeer Nipal continued:
"Right now, you can only establish a rat gang. With your abilities, supporting a dozen or so people is not a problem."
If you agree to swear allegiance to Boss Electroeye, I will provide you with some support.
Li Qingyu shook his head.
"I'm the kind of person who'd rather be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix. Being a subordinate who is bossed around is not for me."
The merchant grinned and didn't insist. But now he began to treat Li Qingyu even more seriously.
This man is not only brave and keeps secrets, but also ambitious. Such people unexpectedly soar upwards.
Shouldn't I establish good relations with him right now? If he rises in the future and remembers my kindness, I will become rich.
After thinking about it, he shouted outside:
"Knife, come here."
The door opened, and Knife entered.
"Boss Nipal, Mister Marauder."
The black merchant addressed Li Qingyu:
"You need people for tasks – well, Knife is now yours."
Li Qingyu looked at Knife. Knife was completely bewildered. What? Had he just been sold?
Li Qingyu, looking at Knife, pondered for a moment and asked:
"Knife, do you want to work for me?"
He really needed someone to run errands, otherwise doing everything himself was too tiring.
Knife hesitated. In Korm's gang, everything was great: the work was glorious and grand. And now he was suddenly being sent to a loner, and the future became unpredictable.
But… he remembered the scene in the dueling arena when this man had coldly shot a chemical boar with dog-like muscles.
This man was one of the rare few in the Lower Hive who could control his own destiny. Following such a person, perhaps he himself…
"Ready! Boss Marauder!"
Knife made his decision and immediately knelt on one knee.
Li Qingyu said:
"Don't worry, I'll only assign you small tasks, I won't send you to your death."
You can continue to live here, in the territory of Korm's gang. You will be my and Boss Nipal's liaison.
Having said this, Li Qingyu looked at the black merchant.
"Can I, Nipal? I don't have room for an adult man in my small shelter. Let him continue to live with you and do my business, and he'll be our liaison."
Nipal smiled.
"Of course, you can. Moreover, it's even better this way."
Li Qingyu nodded, looked at Knife – his new assistant – and decided he needed to give him a red envelope.
He took out a thousand Korm coupons from his chest and shoved them into Knife's hand.
"Here, for your moving expenses. Working for me, I don't promise wealth and glory, but I guarantee prosperity."
Knife looked at the thousand in his hand and almost rolled his eyes with pleasure.
Guys like him, low-level gang fighters, received a monthly salary of only fifty Korm coupons. This was less than a farmer outside the hive, but the Lower Hive had a special economic system, mostly barter, so it was considered a good salary.
Receiving a thousand Korm coupons at once meant becoming a rich man of the Lower Hive.
In a fit of delight, he wanted to bow to Li Qingyu, but the latter stopped him:
"You took my money – work well. Here's your task: find ten steel pipes, twenty wooden planks, bolts and nuts – as many as you can. Deliver everything to the compartment by the pipeline."
Indeed, Li Qingyu used Knife like a scav – sending him to collect materials to improve the shelter.