After finishing the entries, Li Qingyu exhaled heavily. What a man! Having lost everything, he managed to turn the tables and leave, taking his enemies with him.
He spun the Sigil of the Count of the White Tree in his hands and felt a sense of unease. He didn't know what to do with this relic.
Right now, he was just a nobody from the Underhive, and he had no way to get to the Upper Hive, let alone mingle with aristocrats.
Of course, ambition beckoned – to take a risk, to try to become the new count. But after that old man caused such a massacre, did the White Tree lineage even exist anymore?
Decades ago, driven mad, the count released a neurotoxin, killing one hundred million. The Upper Hive was home to nobility – it was unlikely anyone would have spared his descendants. The lineage was surely exterminated entirely.
After some thought, Li Qingyu decided to put aside thoughts of the countship for now. When he eventually made his way to the top, he would find out the truth.
He began to thoroughly search the premises. As a reward, he found a couple of golden goblets, a platter, and a ring.
Together, they were worth about fifty thousand – a considerable sum. Li Qingyu was pleased.
Gold was not considered a rarity in the world of Warhammer 40k, but it retained its status as a symbol of wealth.
The reason was simple: the nobility loved to adorn everything with it, demonstrating their status, just as their ancestors had done millennia ago.
Li Qingyu was about to leave, but as he stepped onto a metal platform, he suddenly had a strange feeling.
Like in games: you run past a spot, glance at it – it's empty, you move on. And then your teammate screams in chat:
"Damn it, a black card!"
"Holy crap, 'The Ideal'!"
"No way, 'Heart of Africa'!"
Memories of the "leaky sieve's" taunts pricked his pride unpleasantly. His eye twitched convulsively.
"No, this won't do. I have to check everything again!"
He trusted his intuition. He had twenty-five energy now – three times more than an ordinary person.
Li Qingyu began searching again: drawers, floor cracks, he even crawled under the bed – he kicked up a cloud of dust, but to no avail.
"It can't be."
He brushed the dust off his head. His sixth sense hadn't failed him – so he must have missed something.
And at that moment, he noticed a skeleton by the wall out of the corner of his eye.
In the world of Vah, commoners' clothes were made of synthetics – durable and resistant. A hundred years would pass, the body would decay, but the jumpsuit could still be worn. People here were disposable, but things were valuable.
But this count wore handmade silk. The organic material hadn't survived the century and crumbled around the skeleton like dry leaves.
Li Qingyu peered into the pile of dust. His eyelid twitched. It was as if a small inner voice whispered, "Dig here!"
He crouched down, raked through the remnants of clothing – and pulled out a rectangular card.
Black, the size of an ID card, made of an unknown metal.
Li Qingyu wiped it on his pant leg – the surface gleamed as if new.
On the black plate, besides the White Tree emblem, there were no letters or numbers. An ordinary person wouldn't know what it was, but he had the System.
Name: Black Card – Electronic Key to Cargo Containers (5/10).
Value: Priceless.
Description: The electronic key of the White Tree lineage, controlling the strategic reserve warehouse. Usually kept by the caretakers.
To prevent theft, the family added a demagnetization function to the readers.
Each use consumes one charge. Maximum – 10. After the limit was exhausted, the card was recharged personally by the count in the Upper Hive.
After reading the description, Li Qingyu whistled. A key card?
He remembered the locked door and hurried to it, swiped the card through the reader.
The lock beeped and gave an error. It didn't fit. So, this card wasn't for rooms, but for containers.
Li Qingyu looked up – a huge warehouse stretched before him, filled with numerous boxes.
Most were empty and lay open like rusty junk. Some were pried open with crowbars – torn edges, metal about fifty millimeters thick, looked like plastal.
Prying these open was madness. You'd spend a lot of resources, and inside – compressed food for colonies. No return on investment, no profit.
The gangs quickly realized the futility of the endeavor, and many intact containers remained untouched.
Li Qingyu's gaze shifted to the black card. A greedy fire ignited in his eyes.
Each container was the size of a third-millennium sea cargo container. Even compressed vegetables would bring a fortune!
Five charges. Five attempts. It couldn't be that all of them would be in vain.
He was already calculating how to bring his team here to open "loot boxes" when suddenly torch lights flickered ahead – someone was approaching!