Chapter 142 The Governor-General's Mansion

"Well, this..."

Hu Jin looked at the green-skinned power weapon on the ground, pondering the current technological level of the Orks on the island.

"Let's start the counterattack once the boss arrives. If we keep defending like this, they'll probably reverse-engineer and master all our technology."

Hu Jin gazed at the Greenskin power weapon on the floor and said after some thought. That was the thing about Orks—whatever your technological level was, they would rapidly catch up and match it. The combat genes of these cosmic vegetables were carved directly into their DNA. As a weapon of war, once the Orks developed and scaled up, the destruction they caused would be terrifying.

"Fine, let's leave it at that for now. I'll try dispatching a squad to the Ork tribe and see what happens. Maybe we can have the Big Mek chopped down directly, snuffing out Ork tech at the root."

Ye Fan nodded, suddenly coming up with another idea: dispatching a tactical squad of Transgressors to the local Ork settlement to attempt a decapitation strike on their Big Mek, or at the very least, pinpoint the Ork coordinates to call down a direct death strike.

"Alright, let's do that. Pick ten men to form a tactical squad, and go to the armory to grab ten sets of Terminator power armor."

Hu Jin told Ye Fan. If they were going to execute a tactical squad operation, they definitely needed a few suits of Terminator armor. Terminator armor wasn't particularly common among the Transgressors; although Wang Ming had provided them with plenty of Terminators, the Transgressors rarely wore them.

This was because they felt Terminators were simply too slow. The Transgressors generally preferred to steamroll everything at high speed, and Terminator armor just didn't fit their combat style.

"Got it, I'll prepare right away."

Hearing Hu Jin's instructions, Ye Fan nodded in response, then headed out to the front lines to pull together the personnel.

"John, there sure are a lot of Orks on this island."

Sitting inside the transport plane and looking through the observation port at the surging green ocean beneath the city walls, Wang Ming remarked casually to the mortal pilot.

"Yes, my Lord Primarch, there are quite a few..."

The mortal pilot glanced down at the green tidal wave covering the ground, swallowed hard, and forced out a reply to Wang Ming.

The pilot was terrified by the mountains and seas of Orks sprawling across the terrain. This was the largest concentration of Greenskins he had ever witnessed in his life. As a veteran of the Astra Militarum, he had fought Orks before, but he had never seen so many of them in one place.

"My Lord Primarch, we will be landing at the Governor's Palace shortly."

The pilot took one last look at the ground and informed Wang Ming.

*Bang!*

Just as Wang Ming and the mortal pilot were conversing, an artillery shell suddenly screamed up from the ground, striking the tail of the transport plane.

The shell instantly pierced the armor, triggering an explosion at the rear of the craft. Thick black smoke immediately billowed from the tail.

"My Lord Primarch! We've been hit!"

The pilot shouted in shock. The transport was hit; the Orks had already managed to deploy anti-air weaponry, even if it was just primitive flak cannons.

"Don't panic, John. Try to steady the transport as much as possible. Can we attempt an emergency landing near the city walls?"

Wang Ming asked the pilot with absolute composure. He wasn't worried about the aircraft crashing; even if it did, he could protect the mortal pilot's life amidst the fiery wreckage.

"Understood, my Lord Primarch! Don't worry, I'll bring her down safely."

Hearing Wang Ming's calm voice, the pilot's emotions stabilized. He gripped the controls and began steering the craft toward the city.

John displayed the skill of a seasoned aviator. The fuselage of the transport gradually steadied, and utilizing his exquisite flying techniques, he dodged several subsequent anti-aircraft shells before guiding the plane smoothly toward the city.

To be fair, Ork accuracy had always been an enigma; sometimes they could land shots with uncanny precision, while other times they fired completely at random.

A transport plane trailing black smoke slowly touched down on the plaza of the Governor's Palace. The moment it landed, local Planetary Defense Force troopers rushed forward with fire extinguishers to douse the burning breach at the rear of the fuselage.

"My Lord Primarch, I did it."

John removed his flight helmet and took a deep breath of fresh air. He had poured every ounce of his energy into that landing.

"Yes, you did, John. You're an exceptional pilot."

Wang Ming unbuckled his safety harness, stood up, patted the pilot's shoulder in reassurance, and stepped down from the transport.

Outside the aircraft, the Governor of Castor IV was already waiting in the plaza, having received word of Wang Ming's arrival long in advance.

"Great Protector of the Imperium, Holy Gene-Sire, I am Jehugh Gordon, Governor of Castor IV. On behalf of House Gordon and the world of Castor IV, I welcome the arrival of the Divine Emperor's progeny."

Spotting Wang Ming descending from the transport, the Planetary Governor hurried over and spoke with profound reverence.

"You are the Planetary Governor?"

Wang Ming looked at the young man before him and asked with a hint of skepticism, because for a Planetary Governor, this person seemed far too young.

The young man was even younger than Wang Ming had been before his translation; he appeared to be merely in his teens, a fact verified by the soft peach fuzz dusting his upper lip.

"Yes, my lord. The former Planetary Governor was my father. Two months ago, he went to the front lines personally to command the war effort and was slain by those savage beasts. I assumed his duties after my father fell in battle."

The young governor looked at Wang Ming and spoke calmly, though Wang Ming could still detect a subtle tremor in the boy's voice.

*The child was thrust into a crisis.*

Wang Ming thought to himself as he looked at the young Planetary Governor—a youthful noble inheriting a high station upon his father's death.

"I understand. Tell me, child, what is the current situation on Castor IV?"

Wang Ming gazed at the boy, patted his head gently, and spoke in a soft tone. He understood the child's tension; he had noticed it the moment he approached. Sweat beads had condensed into droplets of nervous perspiration on the boy's forehead. On an ice world enduring a raging blizzard, the boy was actually sweating—there was no other explanation than extreme anxiety.

"I... I am sorry, my lord. I must speak the truth before the Divine Emperor's holy son."

Jehugh Gordon kept his head bowed, whispering to Wang Ming. His voice was as faint as the buzzing of a mosquito, yet Wang Ming heard every word with crystal clarity.

"It's alright, child. Speak freely."

Noticing the boy's posture and state, Wang Ming maintained his gentle tone.

"I do not actually know the current state of Castor IV. The work of the Planetary Governor has been managed almost entirely by my uncles. They never let me participate in any administrative matters; I am merely a Planetary Governor in name alone."

Jehugh Gordon whispered to Wang Ming. After his father's death, the teenage boy had been thrust into the position of Planetary Governor during a crisis, but he had never been granted any actual authority. His dear uncles had simply treated him like a mascot.

*Sidelined and stripped of power. I could help sort this out, but if those "uncles" are actually running things competently, then intervention might be unnecessary.*

Wang Ming pondered as he listened to Jehugh Gordon's account. The boy had clearly been marginalized. He could perhaps lend a hand, but if those "uncles" were genuinely managing the war effectively, there would be no need to interfere—utility was what mattered.

"Furthermore, they deliberately cut off supplies to the military units loyal to my father, causing three cities to fall."

Jehugh Gordon continued, listing the crimes of his uncles.

"Just as I thought. Boring power struggles."

Listening to the young man passionately recount his uncles' offenses, Wang Ming let out a helpless, inward sigh. As expected, it came down to petty power struggles. The death of the previous Planetary Governor probably wasn't simple either; those vermin must have been meddling behind the scenes.

Wang Ming could ignore political infighting, but matters concerning human lives were another story. Three cities—given the urban scale of Castor IV—amounted to the lives of over three hundred thousand people.

Those people had died needlessly. Of course, this required confirmation first. If more than three hundred thousand souls truly perished because of petty power struggles, then those imperial vermin had to die.

"Very well, child. I understand everything. Once the situation is verified, I will deal with them."

Wang Ming smiled at the young man and said.

"Thank you, my lord. Please, allow me to escort you to the Governor's Palace."

Hearing Wang Ming's words, the boy spoke with trembling excitement. He thought to himself that with the backing of the Emperor's holy son, he would surely reclaim his father's authority and demand justice for those three hundred thousand souls and his father's loyal guards.

Led by the young governor, Wang Ming entered the Governor's Palace, heading toward the gubernatorial office. Although most of the strategic documents from the wartime period were not kept there, a visit was still necessary; they needed the palace's topographical maps to plan out the world's future industrialization.

The architecture of the Governor's Palace resembled a massive pyramidal structure, constructed from a special white metal. According to Jehugh Gordon, it was a unique material possessing extraordinary thermal insulation properties, native exclusively to Castor IV.

True to the boy's description, the moment Wang Ming stepped inside the palace and removed his helmet, he instantly felt a shift in temperature. It was noticeably warmer than the outdoors—almost balmy, in fact. Considering the immense volume of the space, the lack of central heating, and the exterior temperature of minus forty-five degrees Celsius, the unique properties of this metal were undeniable.

"We need to send some of this metal to the First Engineering Company and see if they can whip something up with it."

Touching the metallic walls, Wang Ming thought to himself that this special metal definitely needed to be sent to Xu Zheng. Aside from infrastructure building, those guys lived for bizarre and exotic materials.

"By the Emperor, it really is a Gene-Sire, the holy son of the Imperium!"

As Wang Ming walked into the palace under Jehugh Gordon's guidance, numerous staffers caught sight of his majestic silhouette. After all, it was hard to miss a demigod standing nearly five meters tall (Wang Ming's new armor put him at around five meters).

The mortals were astounded that the divine progeny of legend walked the mortal plane once more. The moment they laid eyes on Wang Ming, their hearts were flooded by an overwhelming sense of warmth and grace. In unison, they struck the Aquila across their chests, while those closest to him dropped straight to their knees in adoration.

"What the... Emperor almighty, did you pass your aura down to me? Why is this scene so painfully familiar?"

Watching the mortals around him, Wang Ming immediately drew comparisons to the days when the Emperor walked among mortals—wherever the Emperor went, blinding golden light radiated around Him, and a gentle reassurance filled the heart of every mortal who looked upon Him.

To be fair, one couldn't entirely blame people during the Great Crusade for worshipping the Emperor as a god. If Wang Ming had witnessed that sight prior to his translation, he probably would have dropped to his knees on the spot and instantly tossed aside twenty-eight years of materialism.

The psychological impact of such a sight on mortals was simply too profound. Anyone who claimed that figure wasn't a god was either insane, cognitively impaired, or perhaps an extreme materialist.

"Stand up! You are not permitted to kneel!"

Wang Ming looked helplessly at the surrounding mortals and raised his voice, attempting to command them to rise.

"Praise be to the Emperor!"

Hearing his words, the staffers slowly stood back up, murmuring quietly as they rose.

"Sigh... Jehugh Gordon, let's go. Why did you kneel too?"

Wang Ming sighed and turned back to Jehugh Gordon, intending to have him continue leading the way to the gubernatorial office—only to find that the boy had dropped to his knees as well.

"What the hell? Who was responsible for the front lines over the last two months? It's an absolute dumpster fire! It doesn't even compare to the Second Regiment's strategy of trading blood for kills—this is literally feeding human lives into a meat grinder, and completely unnecessary ones at that!"

Inside the gubernatorial office, Wang Ming slammed a stack of documents onto the desk, glaring angrily at the few Castor IV nobles standing before him with furious outrage.

At that exact moment, out on the front lines commanding the defense, Hu Jin suddenly sneezed.

"What's wrong with you? How do you even sneeze? Minus forty degrees isn't that cold for an Astartes in power armor."

Ye Fan asked with a curious expression, watching Hu Jin sneeze. An Astartes sneezing—now that was a first.

"I have no idea, but I feel like someone is talking about us right now."

Hu Jin rubbed his nose with a puzzled look on his face.

Back in the gubernatorial office:

Hearing the enraged voice of the Gene-Sire, the nobles exchanged nervous glances, too terrified to utter a word. None of them wanted to take the blame.

"Jehugh Gordon, tell me, who was in charge of the front lines for the past two months?"

Seeing that none of the nobles dared to speak up, Wang Ming turned his gaze to Jehugh Gordon. So no one wanted to take responsibility, huh?

The vermin responsible for directing those operations had fed over ten thousand PDF troops straight to the Orks. Such scumbags deserved to die; lacking tactical competence was one thing, but intentionally throwing away lives to the Greenskins crossed every line.