RNP Chapter 32 Proof of Divine Purification
Chapter 32 Proof of Divine Purification
The battle is over.
But on this land, another, more secretive and deadly "war" has only just begun.
Bureaucratic war.
Before this colossal and despair-inducing imperial machine, even survivors who have just crawled out of piles of corpses must first learn to bow down to those stacks of yellowed parchment.
He served as a fourth-level clerk, a special agricultural advisor, and the de facto controller who temporarily exercised the authority of the Seventh Grain Depot.
Loewe had no chance to catch his breath.
He had to forcibly switch his brain, which had just been calculating ballistics and subspace thermal energy, back to the inefficient mode of processing documents.
Four whole hours.
He was trapped behind his desk, stained with oil and blood, like an emotionless stamping machine.
The head of the health department was a withered old man who wore a gas mask and spoke with a lisp.
Holding a thick 30-page "Application for Approval of Harmless Disposal of Corpses," he kept emphasizing the importance of the "standard incineration process."
Lowe had to patiently sign his name on the form and add a note:
"No need for incineration, it can be used directly as raw material for fermentation tank No. 3."
This decision made the old man's eyes widen in horror, as if he were seeing a blasphemous monster.
However, under Lowell's cold gaze, he still trembled as he stamped the red seal that signified approval.
In that instant, that afternoon flashed back into Luo Wei's mind.
At the time, the obese supervisor Case, who was as fat as a mountain of flesh, also forced himself to stamp and sign the flawed accounts.
At that time, I was a lamb to the slaughter.
Now, the positions have been reversed.
The only difference was that back then, if he hadn't stamped the document, Case would have really found a chance to kill him and turn him into a pile of rotten flesh.
Next came the logistics department's reporting form.
The item regarding "additional fuel consumption" was circled prominently in red by Rowe.
He not only had to explain why the coolant consumption of heavy logging guns was five times the standard value.
They also need to fabricate a logical reason for those power furnaces that were scrapped due to overload.
For example, "a short circuit caused by excessive ambient humidity".
Every word must be carefully considered.
Every reason must be plausible enough to stand up to the tax officials of the Ministry of the Interior in the future.
What Lo Wei feared most was the state priest, Simon.
The obese man was wearing a deep red robe trimmed with gold.
The priest's robes, which should have been sacred and solemn, were now covered in mud.
But he didn't care at all.
He was shaking a brass incense burner in his hand, the strong, suffocating smell of medicine barely masking the sour stench of years spent in the slums on his body.
"Bravour Emperor, this is a divine victory, Advisor Lowe."
Father Simon walked into the office through the muddy ground.
The small eyes, squeezed shut by the fat, didn't look at Luo Wei, but instead examined the list of supplies that had just been compiled on the table.
"I've heard that some...unusual 'miracles' have occurred on the battlefield?"
He pointed out the window with his chubby hand, adorned with numerous cheap gemstone rings, and smiled meaningfully:
"Some believers told me that the wall seemed alive. And the purple flames shooting out of those gun barrels... it doesn't look like standard Imperial technology."
Luo Wei was startled.
These priests were not only propagators of the faith, but also unofficial eyes and ears of the Inquisition.
Simon only needs to say a few words to label him as either "heretical technology" or "contact with chaos."
Even if he just saved the entire granary, he will be burned at the stake tomorrow.
His life.
It's right now in the hands of this greedy fat man.
"That's the latest research result from Father Alpha of the Mechanic Church, Father."
Luo Wei raised his head, his eyes open and devout.
"That is Om Messiah's reward to the devout. To fight this vile plague monster, we need even fiercer wrath, don't we?"
"Of course, of course, anger is always good." Father Simon chuckled, his small eyes darting back and forth between Rowe and the supply list. "But anger needs fuel, just as faith needs offerings."
"Our church's relief porridge is almost gone, and the poor believers are still hungry. If they are extremely hungry, they may have some inappropriate hallucinations."
"For example, viewing those sacred machine spirits as creations of demons."
This is extortion.
It's also a tacit agreement.
Luo Wei understood.
If a sufficient "hush money" is paid, then the metal wall is a "miracle"; if it's too little, it's "heresy".
"Two boxes." Rowe held up two fingers, his voice calm. "Two boxes of specially supplied synthetic starch blocks. In addition, I will donate fifty gallons of fuel to the church in the name of the granary for the 'purification ritual'."
Father Simon's eyes lit up instantly.
The meaningful smile turned into a satisfied and kind one.
"Ah, the Emperor will see your piety, Advisor."
He quickly pulled out a piece of parchment that he had prepared beforehand from his wide sleeve.
The bright red official seal of the state religion—"Certificate of Divine Purification"—was already affixed to it.
"Those metal walls are sacred, those flames are pure. I have felt the Emperor's will."
The priest slammed the certificate on the table.
He grabbed two material allocation slips, turned around and left, his steps light and quick.
Luo Wei let out a long sigh of relief.
At least for now, he is safe.
Father Simon did not investigate further, which means he has temporarily passed the "political censorship".
In this world.
Greed is often more reassuring than fanaticism.
Because greed can be satisfied.
But fanaticism won't work.
……
In this vast and bloated imperial machine, efficiency is an ancient word forgotten ten thousand years ago.
Only procedures, even cumbersome, rigid, and somewhat absurd procedures, are the eternal and unchanging truths.
Every document needs to be signed.
Every decision needs to be stamped.
Every damn process is like a rusty gate.
If you don't apply a kind of "bribery" or "intimidation" lubricant to it, it won't budge even if the sky falls.
When Luo Wei finally signed his last name on the "Form for Issuance of Temporary Special Wartime Allowances for the Seventh Grain Depot".
And by the time he finally managed to shake off the department heads who were buzzing around him like flies, it was already late at night.
He felt his wrist was even more sore than when he was holding the gun.
Fatigue made him want to lie down and rest.
However, just as he was about to loosen his collar, a sudden, unsettling tightness came from his chest.
Then came the scorching heat.
The amulet fragment that he had carefully hidden in his inner pocket, sandwiched between two layers of lead plates, was actually getting slightly warm!
Luo Wei's gaze froze instantly.
This fragment was peeled off the body of a Nurgle cultist.
It is a twisted, chaotic creation.
It is a medium used among believers of Negle to identify their kind and to receive "blessings".
Lowe always used it as a Geiger counter for early warning.
Whenever there is an unusual surge of decaying power around it, it reacts like a pointer to a magnet, generating some heat.
However, according to the monitoring of the Case wet server, the plague army in the surrounding area has retreated, and even the concentration of spores in the air is decreasing.
If there are no external threats...
The only possibility lies within.
It was in the place where the subspace crystals were stored and where a blasphemous experiment was conducted.
Simple logical deduction instantly dispelled all sleepiness.
Lo Wei did not hesitate at all.
He quickly straightened the slightly wrinkled uniform and fastened the top button at the collar.
He strode towards the elevator leading to the seventh maintenance workshop and the underground bunker.
……
The air in the basement was even more polluted than outside.
The place is filled with the damp heat of high-pressure steam leaks and the burnt smell of overheated metal.
The old, dilapidated lattice floorboards underfoot creaked and groaned.
Those six heavily modified logging guns, which had played a crucial role in this battle, were now completely reduced to scrap metal.
The gun barrel had completely melted, like pools of solidified wax, hanging limply over the firing port.
The internal rifling was completely smoothed by the high-energy plasma stream, and the red-hot metal was slowly cooling, emitting a crackling sound.
The subspace crystal, which served as the core heat source and was placed in the water tank, had also been shattered.
All that remained was a pile of grayish-white powder, floating on the murky coolant.
Clearly, Father Alpha's restoration efforts have failed.
It not only completely destroyed the heavy logging gun, but also the subspace core, thus triggering the radiation of plague energy.
At that moment, Father Alpha stood amidst this pile of ruins.
His mechanical tentacles were gently wrapped around the melted gun barrel.
The movements were gentle, as if caressing a lover's skin.
His prosthetic eye remained fixed, its red light unwavering.
Instead of the usual data scanning, there was a kind of dazed and blank expression.
"Truly a perfect repair and evolution..."
From the priest's electronic voice transmitter came a kind of sleep-talking accompanied by static.
"The divine fusion of organic and inorganic...this is the revelation of the Om Messiah..."
"Heat, life, steel—they should have been one..."
A chilling sense of "happiness" is spreading through the logic circuits of the mechanical priest.
Luo Wei's pupils contracted slightly.
He glanced at the ashes in the water tank, his mind racing, and he came to a disturbing conclusion:
After he transformed that subspace crystal into an energy source, it also became a trap.
It does not just provide heat.
It also subtly implants a kind of "great harmony of life" cognitive code into users through data interfaces.
Father Alpha, as a direct contact, has clearly been infected by the "electronic plague."
Lowe had to go back to the office.
When he returned, he was carrying the silver briefcase that the governor had airdropped.
The "sobering agent" inside had long been used up by the officers of the defense force.
However, there was an empty bottle with a few drops of pale blue liquid remaining at the bottom.
He walked up behind the priest.
There was no hesitation in his actions.
He suddenly reached out and grabbed the priest by the back of the neck, at the main data cable connected to the central nervous system.
Then pull it out with force.
"Sizzle!"
Sparks flew everywhere.
At the same time, Lowe splashed the last few drops of cold medicine directly onto the priest's remaining half of human face.
"Wake up, Alpha!"
Lowe warned sternly.
"This is a virus, not repair or evolution!"
"Look at these guns, they're all broken. What a load of rubbish, a complete mess of chaotic excrement!"