Chapter 119: The Thirteenth Regiment’s Well-Provisioned Battle

The Plague Warrior had long sensed that the travelers were tracking it. Deliberately leaving behind a few clues, it lured them into a carefully laid ambush. Centuries of battle experience had convinced it that it could turn the tables and annihilate these pursuers.

Aiming its explosive grenade launcher at one of the travelers, the Plague Warrior pulled the trigger. One by one, explosive rounds struck the traveler, sending him sprawling to the ground. Yet, the warrior had barely managed to fire more than a few shots.

Then, like a specter possessed by the White Scar, Qin Ji roared past on his motorcycle, holding his power sword in one hand. At high speed, he sliced the grenade launcher in two, severing the warrior’s hand along with it.

Without hesitation, Qin Ji leapt off the bike, abandoning it entirely, and charged the Plague Warrior. In a blur of motion, he swung his power sword and hacked off the warrior’s limbs one by one. The Plague Warrior was swiftly reduced to a mere human spear.

“Xu Ming! Are you still able to move?” Qin Ji asked urgently after subduing the creature, rushing to the side of the traveler who had been struck by the explosive rounds.

“I’m alive... damn, my hand’s broken!” Xu Ming groaned, struggling to stand despite the shattered power armor that crumbled to pieces and fell from his body. His left hand had been severed, hanging by only a few strands of muscle and sinew.

Staring at his ruined hand, Xu Ming grasped it with his right hand and yanked fiercely, tearing it off and dropping it to the ground.

“All right, let’s move.” Xu Ming watched as Qin Ji picked up the dropped grenade launcher and approached the Plague Warrior. Shaking his head, Qin Ji followed casually.

This was standard procedure for travelers. Having died no fewer than twenty times each, they had grown accustomed to pain and suffering.

“Xu Ming, the supplies we prepared earlier should still be in the vehicle, right?” Qin Ji asked, eyeing the writhing Plague Warrior on the ground.

“I’m not sure. That last thermal blast pretty much vaporized a lot of stuff inside the vehicle. Not sure if everything’s still there.” Xu Ming replied, glancing at the creature before moving toward the Land Raider, which had a gaping hole blown through it.

He climbed inside and, after a moment, dragged out a crate. With only one hand left, he struggled to haul it over to Qin Ji, dust clinging heavily to its surface.

“Good thing the thermal blast didn’t hit these supplies. Gu Bei stashed them on the back seat. I checked carefully just now—the thermal ray almost ignited the cylinder you had mounted on the vehicle, but luckily, it had a cover,” Xu Ming said.

Qin Ji nodded and crouched down to open the crate.

“Everything’s intact. Xu Ming, help me remove the Plague Warrior’s helmet.”

As Qin Ji rummaged through the supplies, Xu Ming stepped closer to the struggling creature. Placing his foot firmly on the warrior’s chest, he pinned it down.

Grabbing the helmet, Xu Ming pulled with all his might but failed to remove it. Gathering strength, he yanked again. With a sharp snap, the helmet came off, revealing an additional layer beneath. The Plague Warrior’s repulsive, rotting skin—corrupted by the gift of corruption—had fused with its power armor.

“Disgusting!” Xu Ming grimaced, discarding the helmet still attached to the foul skin. His gaze fell upon the head stripped of its flesh, and nausea washed over him.

“All set. Let’s test this out,” Qin Ji said, approaching Xu Ming with a device he had calibrated.

Without hesitation, Qin Ji placed the device—a bone conduction headset—on the Plague Warrior’s head.

The headset was something Qin Ji had specifically requested from Wang Ming two days prior when he returned to base for equipment. Its purpose was simple: to torment the Plague Warrior.

Once the device was in place, Qin Ji played a recording of the “Emperor’s Litany,” carefully recorded by Feng Fan after the Second Battle of Terra. Hundreds of devout Imperial Creed followers had been captured in prayer alongside the bishop’s solemn chant. This was initially a reference for Feng Fan’s faith in the Emperor, but during earlier battles, he had discovered that the litany was a potent mockery against the forces of Chaos—far more effective than reciting it aloud on the battlefield.

As the Emperor’s Litany resonated through the bone conduction headset into the Plague Warrior’s mind, the creature immediately writhed in discomfort.

“That’s enough—carry it to the Land Raider. There’s a specially prepared alcohol vat for it inside,” Qin Ji said, observing the warrior’s pained reaction.

Indeed, to torment the Plague Warrior further, Qin Ji had installed a one-meter alcohol tank inside the Land Raider.

Dragging the warrior toward the vehicle, Qin Ji carefully placed it within the vat and thoughtfully sealed the lid.

They planned to haul the creature back to base, where Wang Ming would burn it until nothing remained. The journey would take two days by vehicle, meaning the Plague Warrior would be steeped in alcohol all that time.

Two days later, at a frontline position under the responsibility of the 13th Regiment, an unusual sight unfolded—the regiment had not retreated but was actively engaged in combat against the Nurgle zombies and daemonic entities before them.

“Sergeant, what’s going on? Shouldn’t we have withdrawn by now under these conditions?” a noble conscript asked his nearby sergeant. They were clad in force-feedback power armor and armed with QBZM21 laser rifles.

“Quiet. Turn your laser rifles to full power and open fire on the horde. Want to use heavy explosive rounds? Fire away—don’t hold back on ammunition,” Sergeant Lauster said, abandoning his usual reserve to speak with enthusiasm.

“Sergeant, did our regiment break into the military supply depot? When did we get this rich?” the noble conscript asked in surprise.

“Cosigen, shut it. Just keep firing. The commander said we can get reimbursed for all our supplies on this world. Hurry up—I’ve already applied for the next batch,” Lauster replied excitedly.

Wang Ming had assured Lauster during a drinking session that the 13th Regiment’s expenditures in the Gobe world would be reimbursed. Encouraged, Lauster quickly summoned Idra, who had been with the 195th Regiment’s warehouse, which supported the mortal auxiliary forces.

When the first replenishment arrived, the travelers fighting alongside the 13th Regiment noticed their combat effectiveness had surged dramatically.

Since its formation, the 13th Regiment had never fought such a well-supplied campaign. The main cannon of the “Dormitory” tank barely ceased firing. The newly arrived “Emperor’s Venom Blade” vehicle was similarly unleashed, and the regiment’s firepower was so overwhelming that it left little room for the accompanying travelers to engage.

Behind this surge in combat power lay a continuous stream of supply requests sent to Wang Ming’s temporary office.

Wang Ming, serving as the legion commander, had evolved into a seasoned administrator. Using his powerful original body, he worked tirelessly around the clock, managing every aspect of the legion’s affairs. Assisted by two artificial intelligences, his processing speed remained impressive.

“Supply request from the 13th Regiment of Consequit,” Wang Ming muttered, picking up yet another form and feeling a headache coming on.

Two days straight! The 13th Regiment’s supply requests hadn’t stopped. While ammunition requests were normal, who requests supplies every three hours? How do you fight—a fireworks show with bullets!?

“Ah... is it really not painful to be so careless?” Wang Ming sighed deeply, staring at the endless requests.

“Jose,” Wang Ming called out.

“I’m here, my lord,” Jose responded, entering the office promptly. As captain of Wang Ming’s personal guard, he was always nearby alongside the orderly.

Wang Ming’s personal guard consisted entirely of mortals—likely the only such unit within the original body’s forces. This was because Wang Ming needed no protection; the mortals served purely ceremonial roles, and he never expected them to shield him.

“Jose, take the original body’s guard troops and relieve the 13th Regiment. Clean up that area’s corpse horde. If they keep fighting like this, my hypertension will act up,” Wang Ming said, handing over the 13th Regiment’s dossier.

“Understood, my lord. I will see to it immediately,” Jose replied, saluting with the Imperial Eagle before leaving to assemble the troops.

Jose gathered the original body’s personal guard at their barracks outside the castle where Wang Ming’s office was located. Wherever Wang Ming went, they followed—a force of over ten thousand veterans of the Astral Legion, handpicked by Jose himself. Each soldier was an elite among elites.

They wore exquisitely patterned force-feedback power armor. Though Wang Ming did not expect them to protect him, he still equipped them with the auxiliary forces’ finest gear. His intention was for this guard to serve mainly as a ceremonial honor guard.

Moreover, the personal guard was outfitted with numerous experimental pieces from the First Engineer Company—thirty mechs developed on Mels and various specialized weapons.

Two thousand soldiers set out from their barracks, bringing the thirty mechs along as well. This was an excellent opportunity to collect combat data, as during the Battle of Bartko II, the war had been so swift that these mechs had never even disembarked from the “Imperial Truth” ship.

As a mechanized unit, the personal guard’s marching speed was swift. Wang Ming had provided them with a multitude of vehicles, ensuring both rapid movement and formidable armored strength.

“Lauster, the commander said once the relief troops arrive, we can pull back and rest,” Lael reported to Lauster, who was watching the “Dormitory” vehicle fire with great enthusiasm.

“What?!” Lauster snapped out of his fervor. He had been hoarding half the ammunition from resupply shipments, and now he was told to stop.

“The commander told us to withdraw and rest. Also, he asked me to pass along a message,” Lael explained matter-of-factly.

“What message?” Lauster asked with curiosity.

“Ahem... How does it feel to fight with free ammo?” Lael cleared his throat and raised his voice in the commanding tone of the original body.

“It feels great... well, whatever. I’ve profited anyway. These past two days, we’ve been using half the ammo and saving the rest,” Lauster murmured to himself after hearing the message.

“All right, boys! Back to the usual—conserve ammo, close the “Dormitory” tank’s cannon ports, and bring the Venom Blade back!” Lauster ordered after receiving the relief notice. The 13th Regiment returned to their former battle style, switching to semi-automatic fire with heavy weapons, finally allowing the accompanying travelers to join the fight.

Within half an hour, the original body’s personal guard arrived, led by Jose himself. To ensure perfect execution of Wang Ming’s orders, Jose took command of the mission personally.