Chapter 143: The "Noble Army"

Within the Imperium, a certain type of animal is commonly found among the nobility of every world. The scientific name for this creature is the vermin, a small imperial animal possessed of noble status whose appearance typically results in combat troops suddenly being cut off from supply lines, or desperate imperial citizens perishing en masse because the hive city gates were slammed shut.

Ordinarily, these small imperial animals live exceedingly well by virtue of their noble status, but there are exceptions—such as the present moment.

"Lord Primarch, this is Planetary General Allodo Gordon."

Upon hearing Wang Ming's inquiry, Jehuai Gordon assumed a strictly professional demeanor as he looked toward a nobleman standing before Wang Ming.

"You are the planetary general?"

Following Jehuai Gordon's gaze, Wang Ming saw a nobleman staring at him with a look of sheer terror.

That nobleman possessed a standard aristocratic appearance, fulfilling all of Wang Ming's stereotypical impressions of the Imperium: an excessively obese physique that made the lavish fur coat draped over his shoulders look like natural fur growing from his own hide, and rolls of fat on his face cascading down to his neck, completely obscuring it.

"Lord Primarch, I am Planetary General Allodo Gordon. I have no idea how those losses to the Planetary Defense Forces occurred. At the time, I was stationed on another island; Civil Administrator James Gordon was the one responsible for the defense of the primary continent."

Looking at Wang Ming with absolute trepidation, Allodo Gordon spoke with a trembling voice, shifting this capital offense onto his brother, the planetary primary civil administrator, James Gordon.

The position of civil administrator was unique to Castellan IV, responsible for overseeing all aspects of urban development—equivalent to an ancient Terran mayor—while the primary civil administrator served as the leader managing all those mayors.

"Who is James Gordon?"

Wang Ming glanced at Allodo Gordon, who looked as though he was on the verge of fainting from fright, and then swept his piercing gaze across the noblemen before him.

"It is... it is I, respected Lord Primarch."

James Gordon said, trembling as he looked at Wang Ming.

"My... my lord, I did indeed issue the order at the time, but the one responsible for execution was..."

James Gordon attempted to deflect the blame just as Allodo Gordon had, trying to push the responsibility onto someone else.

"Shut up! The responsibility for this matter rests entirely on the two of you. You still want to shift the blame? Shift it onto whom? Those fallen soldiers of the Planetary Defense Force?"

Just as he attempted to pass the buck, Wang Ming's voice cut him off mid-sentence. Looking angrily at the two noblemen before him, Wang Ming said:

"Milord, we had no such intention!"

Upon hearing Wang Ming's words, the two men hurriedly spoke up.

"Indeed, you had no such intention, but someone must take responsibility for this matter, must they not?"

Wang Ming stared at the terrified pair before him, the anger in his tone no longer suppressible. The deaths of over three hundred thousand people and the loss of more than ten thousand PDF troops were entirely preventable. Those three hundred thousand lives required only adequate supplies for the defending forces at the time, and as for those ten thousand PDF soldiers, they clearly did not need to be sacrificed defending that meaningless, ornamental greenhouse garden.

"Hah..."

Looking at these two specimens of indigenous imperial noble fauna before him, Wang Ming let out a long sigh and suddenly burst into laughter—though Wang Ming's smile filled the two imperial vermin with profound dread.

"Fortunately, however, we can now deal with the root causes of these losses."

Smiling, Wang Ming placed a document on the table and pushed it toward the two imperial nobles standing before him.

"Your positions have been stripped from you, and your crimes will be brought to trial. You must answer for those who died, do you understand?"

Wang Ming smiled as he spoke to them. His words were undoubtedly a direct delivery of their death warrants—their very own death warrants.

"Milord! We acted out of absolute helplessness! You cannot treat us this way! Our loyalty to the God-Emperor..."

Hearing Wang Ming's verdict, the two men hurriedly attempted to offer an explanation, but their words were once again cut short by Wang Ming.

"Ho... Guards!"

Wang Ming had originally intended to summon Jose, but suddenly remembered that Jose was still aboard the *Imperial Truth* preparing to receive personnel and had not yet arrived. He had no choice but to call for the guards instead.

Following Wang Ming's command, several guards quickly rushed into the governor's office.

"Take these two vermin away."

Wang Ming looked at the two vermin before him and instructed the guards.

The guards looked at the two nobles and hesitated. Although the order came from a Primarch, the Emperor's divine offspring, those two men were nobles after all. Moreover, in terms of hierarchy, the guards essentially served as the private retinue of these nobles; now they were being asked to bind their own masters.

"What are you waiting for? Bind them quickly! This is the command of a gene-primarch!"

Seeing the guards hesitating, Jehuai Gordon shouted loudly at them.

Roused instantly by Jehuai Gordon's shout, the guards snapped to their senses. Indeed, this was the command of a gene-primarch. Regaining their clarity, the guards swiftly subdued the two men, who continued to hurl accusations at each other even as they were dragged out of the office.

"As for the rest of you, your performance was passable..."

Wang Ming looked at the remaining nobles in the room, slowly unholstered his bolter, placed it on the tabletop, and cleared his throat.

"Every single one of you performed quite well..."

Wang Ming's words caused all the remaining nobles to visibly relax. Lord Primarch had praised them; they had done well, and at least they wouldn't be dragged out like the other two.

"However... would you care to explain how, with aerial transport entirely unhindered, you managed to pile all the supplies up in warehouses instead of shipping them to the front lines?"

Tapping his finger lightly against the bolter on the table, Wang Ming looked at the nobles before him and smiled.

"Milord, our aerial transports encountered interference from the greenskins; you saw it yourself when you arrived. It truly wasn't intentional."

Upon hearing Wang Ming's words, the hearts of the remaining nobles, which had just begun to relax, plunged wildly on a rollercoaster of renewed terror.

"Mm... and then? The supplies simply weren't shipped? What are the troops on the front lines supposed to use to fight those beasts? Rations bars?"

Listening to the excuses offered by the nobles before him, Wang Ming questioned them. He knew this was absolute nonsense; the greenskins' accuracy was atrocious, and as long as transport aircraft picked up a little speed, the greenskins' flak guns couldn't hit them at all.

"The supplies for the Planetary Defense Forces in nearly three cities have been cut off for over a month now, and they are already engaging the greenskins in hand-to-hand combat!"

Wang Ming placed a document on the table and pushed it toward the nobles gathered before him.

"Of course, gentlemen, there is no need to be frightened. What you did pales in comparison to the previous two; at least you did not cause catastrophic casualties."

Wang Ming tapped his finger lightly on the desk and smiled, his tone flat as he addressed the nervous nobles before him. Although the supplies meant for those Planetary Defense Forces had been embezzled, those soldiers possessed extraordinary combat prowess, relying on limited ammunition and bayonets to hold the greenskins firmly outside the glowing lights of the city's homes. They were true human soldiers.

"Phew..."

Hearing this, the surrounding nobles collectively let out a long sigh of relief.

"Therefore, I have made arrangements for all of you. Your posts have been stripped from you, and I have specially formed a noble army for you. Gentlemen, you shall become the first Astra Militarum regiment of Castellan IV, serving as a glorious currency of the Emperor."

Smiling, Wang Ming produced yet another set of documents and handed them to the nobles. These papers had been compiled by Captain Jiang Tao within the span of a few hours. Once completed, Captain Jiang Tao had transmitted them to Wang Ming's terminal, and Wang Ming had then printed them out using the governor's office printer. Everything had been arranged in advance.

"Milord... isn't this rather abrupt? We are imperial nobles and lack professional training; I'm afraid we cannot fulfill the duties of the Emperor's currency."

One nobleman picked up the documents to read them, and upon finishing, spoke to Wang Ming, hoping to evade the assignment by citing their lack of professional training.

"You need not worry about that. Have any of you ever heard the saying that the best training is actual combat?"

Wang Ming looked playfully at the nobles, whose anxiety had now morphed into sheer terror, and spoke in a flat tone.

Wang Ming's tone was calm, yet the psychological blow it dealt these nobles far exceeded the earlier display of anger.

"The defense of this city shall be your responsibility."

Wang Ming handed them a photograph of a city—a small settlement with a population of only around thirty thousand, assaulted by a relatively modest greenskin force of roughly fifty thousand.

"Surely none of you would refuse the honor of becoming the Emperor's currency, would you?"

Wang Ming addressed the nobles. He had already planned it out; this city would serve as a suitable training ground for these nobles. Although there was still a chance it could be overrun by the greenskins, the civilian evacuation routes had already been prepared. The moment these nobles broke and prepared to flee, the 122nd "Star Liberator" Regiment, acting as barrier troops, would take over the battlefield, swiftly deal with the fleeing nobles, and then resume the fight against the greenskins.

Wang Ming had already arranged a comprehensive, all-inclusive package for them. If they held the line and eradicated all the greenskins, then congratulations to them—they would officially become guardsmen, dispatched to the stars to fight for humanity and the Emperor.

"Very well, gentlemen. Please proceed."

Wang Ming stood up. To be frank, the temporary chair Jehuai Gordon had provided for him was truly uncomfortable.

Under Wang Ming's direction, the nobles slowly filed out of the governor's office. Shortly afterward, a dedicated escort would lead them to the barracks to form a "noble army" alongside high-efficiency conscripts selected from the prisons, marching together toward the battlefield.

"Song Chao, Song Chao, this is Xu Ming. We are directly ahead of your position; we have located the greenskin stronghold."

Within a mountain valley, five translocators clad in Terminator power armor were advancing slowly toward the greenskin encampment ahead. Stealth projection devices were mounted upon their Terminator armor.

This type of specialized combat equipment was among the many tactical assets issued to the translocators. In terms of equipping his translocators, Wang Ming operated on a philosophy of providing everything available—with the obvious exception of high-power Combat Man-of-Iron units, which were far too difficult to control should anything go wrong.

"Understood, Xu Ming, we are following up. Using Terminator power armor for assassinations is terribly cumbersome; the moment you exert any real force, a greenskin's head turns into mushroom paste."

After gently lowering the headless corpse of a greenskin to the ground, Song Chao communicated back to Xu Ming via vox-caster.

"If I'd known, I would have had you wear tactical armor instead. Besides, are you sure your gene-seed wasn't mixed with some raven blood? The boss's gene-seed isn't this pure."

Hearing Song Chao's words, Xu Ming joked.

"Who knows? Perhaps my gene-seed was custom-ordered by the Emperor Himself."

Song Chao replied with a chuckle, matching the banter.

"Stop chattering, we are almost there. Upload the coordinates immediately, disable your cloaking fields, and let's tear into them before we get extracted by a death-strike."

Just as the two were exchanging jests, Ye梵's voice suddenly cut into the communication channel; he was the commander for this operation.

"Understood, Company Commander, coordinates uploaded."

Hearing Ye梵's command, Xu Ming swiftly uploaded the coordinates and deactivated his stealth field.

As the cloaking shimmer faded, five Astartes clad in Cataphractii-pattern Terminator armor, wielding thunder hammers, materialized before the greenskin encampment.

"Brothers! For the Emperor! For the Primarch! WAAAAAGH!!!"

With a roar, the five translocators charged headlong into the greenskin encampment.

Xu Ming took the lead, swinging his thunder hammer to reduce a greenskin—who was currently pondering how these tiny runts had suddenly appeared—into mushroom paste. The moment Xu Ming dispatched the first greenskin, the rest of the horde took notice of the translocators.

A barrage of bullets and shells flew toward the translocators, but all incoming firepower was deflected by the defensive energy fields of the Cataphractii armor. Observing the greenskin firing positions automatically targeted by their helmets, the translocators raised their bolters and rapidly picked them off one by one.

Terminator power armor is terrifyingly formidable. While its protective qualities can sometimes seem Schrödinger-esque in certain accounts, the reality on the ground is that short of deploying another set of Terminators, dealing with a single suit of Terminator armor is exceptionally difficult.

The five Terminators cut a bloody path through the greenskin camp, their defensive fields completely impervious to the horde's various armaments. Yet the greenskins still found a way to counter the translocators: upon realizing that conventional firepower could harm them not, the greenskins unleashed swarms of round, self-detonating squigs.

Bearing down on the translocators with jaws filled with sharp fangs, they sprinted forward carrying greenskin-style meltabombs. However, before the majority of these explosive squigs could close the distance, they were detonated mid-stride by well-placed bolter rounds.

Even so, the sheer volume of them was overwhelming; this greenskin encampment had reached the point of mass-producing melta charges—heaven knows where they had acquired the technology. A few fortunate explosive squigs successfully reached the sides of the translocators and instantly triggered their melta charges. As successive flashes of melta detonation flared across the battlefield, the greenskins raised a chorus of excited roars.