Li Qingyu's furious cursing silenced everyone. His subordinates looked at their boss with disbelief, not expecting such an outburst of anger from him.
The mutants standing opposite, on whom this torrent of abuse had fallen, froze – as if these words had pierced their very souls.
A clatter sounded: one of the mutants threw his cleaver to the ground, covered his face with his hands, and sobbed loudly.
Still crying, he turned, moving on all four legs, and rushed away. The crying gradually subsided, leaving only the sight of a pathetic silhouette melting into the darkness.
A heavy silence hung in the air. Li Qingyu roared:
"At least this one has shame, what are you standing around for? What do you want? Get out of the way quickly!"
The two-horned mutant, standing at the front, breathed heavily, barely containing his rage.
"The territory of the Black Water tribe is ahead! Strangers are not allowed there!"
"Black Water tribe? What nonsense?" Li Qingyu had never heard of them, but the name itself sounded in the best traditions of Warhammer 40k.
He had once read old lore and remembered the story of savages who mistook a nuclear reactor for a divine artifact, prayed to it day and night, and founded the Cult of the Atom.
They considered those mutated by radiation to be blessed children of the Atom God. Absurd, but quite in the spirit of the madmen here.
He assumed this Black Water cult was of the same ilk. But he didn't care: the main thing was to break through the trade route to the surface.
"Give way. I just want to pass. No conflicts, no one will get hurt."
"I'll do my business and leave. And you can keep praying to your pipes, I don't care. Understood?"
After these words, the mutants hesitated.
Food was catastrophically scarce in the vicinity of the Underhive, and cannibalism had long been the norm for them.
The reason they didn't attack immediately was the dazzling spotlight of the railcar, its beam hitting them directly in the face.
These creatures had night vision, and under such light, they went blind like moles. In the bright beam, they couldn't even tell how many enemies there were, only by smell could they sense that there were many enemies.
The two-horned one, after considering the situation, decided to retreat.
"The sacred lands of the Black Water lie ahead! If strangers defile the source, they will know its wrath!"
After uttering this pompous phrase, the mutant turned and led almost a hundred of his tribesmen back into the darkness.
Li Qingyu exhaled with relief and ordered his men to continue repairing the rails. He was not afraid of these creatures – he had two autoguns, just pull the trigger – and half the enemies would fall.
What he feared was not recouping the cost of the ammunition. These poor wretches had nothing to take but rusty iron.
Fifteen minutes later, the rails were repaired, and the railcar moved on. Everyone was tense: there were more mutants ahead. Knife sat at the controls, ready to accelerate or retreat at any moment.
About ten minutes later, they noticed many branches to the left of the path. A faint light emanated from the tunnels – traces of human activity.
Li Qingyu directed a powerful flashlight there – and almost dropped it. What he saw was enough to drive one mad.
It was a mutant lair. Hundreds of creatures scurried in the black darkness.
The local flesh distortions were striking. Those he had previously encountered in armor and with swords were almost handsome in comparison. These – caused nausea.
Some had lost their human form, others had merged with the walls, turning into bulky masses of flesh.
There were also monsters resembling creatures from the movie "The Thing" – fused bodies of two or three.
Li Qingyu distinguished gnawed bones and tents sewn, judging by the texture, from human skin.
It was hard to call them people, but they breathed, they lived – a living embodiment of the cruelty of this universe.
The flashlight's beam startled the mutants: shrieking, they scattered.
In movies, they are usually portrayed as bloodthirsty killers. But when your body is twisted to madness – what kind of combat strength is that? Just surviving would be enough.
Human organs are not designed for such metabolism. If someone took their blood for analysis – any doctor would go gray from the results.
The railcar crawled slowly forward, the beam of the flashlight tearing new nightmares from the darkness. Suddenly, Knife called out:
"Boss, look there!"
Li Qingyu turned around. In one of the caves stood a giant pipe, from which flowed a thick black liquid, resembling oil.
Monstrously deformed mutants were gathered around the pipe. Clad in torn ritual rags and with staffs made of scrap metal, they knelt and prayed to the flow.
Around the priests, others knelt, simpler ones, also praying.
Then the servants scooped up the black liquid and began distributing it to the flock, forcing them to drink and eat this abomination.
Li Qingyu shuddered. Knife whispered:
"Boss, I know what that is. It's chemical waste!"
"Correct. Not just from our factories – all the waste that's brought for processing. After filtration, this kind of crap is produced. Then it's sent to the core for burning. And here they eat it…" he shook his head.
Li Qingyu clicked his tongue and turned off the flashlight. Let the darkness hide this nightmare.
Now he was concerned about something else: urgently organizing an armed convoy. Mutants nearby – means danger. Mercenaries are needed.