Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 17

Days passed one by one. The atomic reserves in the derelict ship warehouse grew silently, the ship blueprints in the database were perfected in quietude, and the savings in the corner of the workshop jumped on the numbers. Liu En's life was like a precisely operating machine, every gear in its proper place, every pipe delivering what it was supposed to deliver.

In Lucius's third year, Phil Maxim's workshop in the nest remained unchanged. Several parts were piled on the workbench, and the ventilation system emitted a uniform white noise.

When Vitellius pushed open the door, Liu En was placing a disassembled terracotta plate aside. Instead of rummaging through the parts box as usual, he pulled up a chair and sat down—a low, hissing sound as he sat down caused the cushioning layer between the terracotta plates to compress a few millimeters. His upper body was encased in a dark gray terracotta power suit, the plates covered with various data and energy interfaces, some connected to thin cables, others plugged with dust plugs. Little skin was exposed from the collar and cuffs, but it was clear his level of mechanization was low—except for his right arm, which was entirely replaced by a sophisticated metal prosthesis below the shoulder joint, with tool interfaces faintly visible at the fingertips.

His left eye was a normal biological eye, while his right eye had a mechanical prosthetic eye embedded in it, and the aperture behind the lens narrowed slightly in the dimly lit workshop.

A deep crimson robe draped over the power armor, the signature attire of the Mechanicus's technical priests—a tradition from Martian origins, symbolizing allegiance and devotion to the god of machines. The robe was thick, its edges embroidered with dark gold gear patterns; the fabric at the elbows and shoulders was treated for durability, revealing glimpses of the inner power armor. On the chest of the robe, a gear-skull emblem gleamed with a dark metallic sheen under the dim light—half a human skull, half intricate machinery, embedded in a black and white gear. Each tooth of the gear was engraved with miniature prayers, almost invisible in the light.

He pulled a bottle of Amigh Dorton vintage wine from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and poured himself a glass.

"You seem rather absent-minded lately." Vitellius picked up his cup and took a sip, the servo motor of his mechanical arm elbow emitting a barely audible high-frequency hum. With his movement, the cuffs of his robe slipped down slightly, revealing the mechanical cult's sacred words embroidered in dark red thread on the inside of the cuffs, almost blending into the fabric.

Liu En wiped his hands, turned around, and sat down at the worktable. "Vitley, there's something I want to tell you."

"explain."

"I managed to get a boat."

Vitellius's cup hovered in mid-air. He slowly lowered it, staring at Liu En for a few seconds. His left eye—the biological eye—constricted slightly, as if focusing, searching for some imperceptible trace. The mechanical lens of his right eye emitted an almost inaudible buzz, rapidly shifting focus from wide-angle to macro, and then back again.

"You got a boat?" Vitellius repeated, his tone unusually calm. "What kind of boat?"

"A standard Imperial cruiser," Liu En said calmly.

Vitellius didn't respond immediately. His biological eyes remained fixed on Liu En's face, pupils not dilated, maintaining a cautious, almost wary, size. The mechanical eye refocused again, this time locking onto Liu En's mouth, behind his ears, and temporal bone—the locations with implants and metal nodes, as if checking for any invisible growths or mutations. His fingers unconsciously traced the gear emblem on his chest, a subconscious prayer gesture among members of the Mechanicus when faced with something uncertain.

"A cruiser," Vitellius said slowly. "What did you, a second-tier craftsman, offer in exchange?"

"I did a friend a big favor before, and he owes me one. This time, when I said I wanted a boat, he just gave it to me."

"What kind of trouble is this that warrants a cruiser?"

Liu En considered his words. "Do you remember when I told you that I spent some time in Amegiddon's Lair? Back then, I helped a... partner with a mission at an abandoned outpost of the Mechanicus. No one had been there for thousands of years, and it contained the information and relics he needed. I got them for him. In return, he said to just ask if he needed anything in the future."

Vitellius raised an eyebrow. The pupil of his biological eye contracted slightly, and the focus of his mechanical eye widened, seemingly observing Liu En's posture and micro-expressions as a whole.

"An abandoned outpost? From the Mechanics?" Vitellius said. "You never mentioned it."

"Some things are better left unsaid," Liu En said. "You know the rules."

Vitellius leaned back in his chair, picked up his glass, and took another sip. He held it in his mouth for a moment, then slowly swallowed. His biological eyes finally relaxed a little, the pupils dilating slightly, but his mechanical eyes maintained a low-frequency, fine-tuning of focus, as if continuously recording Liu En's every subtle movement—whether his fingers trembled involuntarily, whether his chest rose and fell abnormally. The metal gear decorations on his robe rose and fell slightly with his breathing, flickering uncertainly.

"Is your friend reliable?" he asked.

"He's reliable. I wouldn't have gotten this far without him."

Vitellius didn't ask for the name. In Lucius, in this line of work, some names are better left unasked. But he placed the cup on the table and tapped the rim with his fingers, producing a soft tinkling sound. The gear and skull emblem on his chest seemed to rotate rhythmically in the dim light—or perhaps it was just an illusion of light.

"Cohen, I'm going to ask you a question, and you'd better answer me honestly."

"you say."

"During this time—" Vitellius raised his eyes, the pupils of his biological eyes contracting again, the focus of his mechanical eyes locked on Liu En's eyes, the aperture behind the lenses shrinking to its smallest size, "Have you done anything you shouldn't have? Went to any places you shouldn't have? Touched anything you shouldn't have?"

Liu En looked at Vitellius. He understood that look in his eyes.

"You suspect I've been corrupted by Chaos?" he asked directly.

Vitellius did not deny it. His biological eye blinked, while the lens of his mechanical eye froze completely—the focus locked at its furthest point, as if taking a step back to examine Liu En's entire existence from a more macroscopic perspective. The pupil of his biological eye contracted, dilated, and contracted rapidly again, as if detecting a lie. The fingertips of his right hand—the metal hand—tightened slightly, pressing against the mechanical shell of his forearm with a soft "click."

"You're just a second-tier craftsman, and you've only been in Lucius for three years." Vitellius's voice was low, almost a whisper. "Your skills surpass many veterans I've met. The parts in your workshop are of very high quality, far too high. And now you say you have a cruiser—a gift from a friend. Did you help your friend obtain data and relics from an outpost at the Dead Nest?" He paused, his tapping ceasing. "In this universe, the only 'friends' who can casually give away a cruiser, besides the top nobles of the Empire, are—"

He didn't finish his sentence. But Liu En knew what he wanted to say.

A force in the darkness. Chaos. Those things that trade souls and flesh.

The workshop was quiet for a few seconds. The white noise from the ventilation system seemed particularly loud.

Liu En wasn't angry. He took out a bottle of Amigidon vintage wine from under the worktable—Vitellius didn't know he had another bottle hidden—twisted the cap, poured himself a glass, and took a sip.

"Vitley," he said, "do I look like I've been corrupted?"

He stood up, spread his arms, and spun around in place. His deep red robe unfurled with the movement, revealing a dark red lining embroidered with Mechanicus prayers in even darker reddish-brown silk thread—the characters were almost invisible in the dim light, but he knew they were there, like the prayers on the robes of every Mechanicus member, a ritual, and an identity.

"I work every day in the Temple's wrecked ship warehouse, and every part I touch is documented. You can search my workshop at any time. My power armor, my robotic arm, my implants—which one bears the mark of chaos? Which part can't you recognize?"

Vitellius didn't move. His biological eyes quickly scanned Liu En's body—from head to toe, then back to his face. His mechanical eyes, on the other hand, skipped between several key implant sites: the interface of the right prosthetic arm, the neural port at the back of the head, and the translator base in the temporal bone.

"You've never been to the Bottom Nest." Liu En sat back in his chair, his tone calming. "You have no idea how deep, dark, and filthy that place is. I've been there, spending every day with corpses, mutants, and gangsters. If I were that easily corrupted, I wouldn't be alive today."

He paused, then took another sip.

"My friend is indeed capable. But he's definitely not chaotic. He's just someone who makes a living in the cracks of the empire, no different in essence from those smugglers in Lucis. He owes me a favor, and I repay his trust, it's that simple."

Vitellius remained silent for a long time. His biological pupils contracted, dilated, and contracted rapidly once more, as if comparing Liu En's words with his physiological reactions. The focus of his mechanical eye zoomed in and out, finally settling at a mid-distance position—neither intimate nor distant.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

Liu En put down his wine glass, leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice.

“Witley, I know what you’re worried about. You are—” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “You are my friend. In all of Lucis, there are no more than three people I can say that to. Your doubts about me are not offensive; you are fulfilling your duty as a friend. So I want to thank you.”

Vitellius's biological eye blinked. The focus of his mechanical eye shifted slightly, as if he hadn't expected those words.

"My channels are safe," Liu En continued. "I personally handled the mission at that outpost. My friend owes me a favor, that's all. Nothing I obtained is tainted by corruption. You can rest assured."

Vitellius remained silent. He picked up his wine glass, found it empty, and put it down again. His right hand once more touched the gear and skull emblem on his chest—this time, he slowly stroked the outer edge of the gear, like a believer who had been suppressed for too long confirming that his faith still remained.

"Furthermore," Liu En's lips curled slightly—not a smile, but more like a self-deprecating, underhanded smile—"even if I were truly corrupted, do you think I'd be stupid enough to wait in the workshop for you to catch me red-handed?"

Vitellius paused for a moment. Then his left eye—the biological eye—curled, like some kind of suppressed, unskilled smile. The mechanical lens of his right eye quickly refocused and then relaxed.

Vitellius snorted, pulled the bottle of vintage wine back from his robe, and poured himself another glass. The gear embroidery on the shoulder of his robe flashed in the light before disappearing back into the shadows. He took a large gulp, then put down the glass and let out a long breath.

"Cohen," he said, "do you know what I hate most about you?"

"What?"

"You always think of everything and handle everything perfectly. It makes me, a third-level novice priest, feel like a handyman in your eyes."

Liu En did not refute. He simply looked at Vitellius, waiting for him to continue.

Vitellius shook his head, that awkward smile returning to his lips. He reached out—his fleshy hand, not his mechanical arm—and tapped it twice on the table.

"Friends," he said, as if chewing the word carefully for the first time. "Okay. We're friends. At least trustworthy friends."

He looked at Liu En, the pupils of his biological eyes returned to normal size, and the focus of his mechanical eyes was fixed at a suitable distance.

"I'm starting to believe that your friend is trustworthy too," Vitellius said. "Not because you said he was reliable. It's because you're betting your life on this ship. A person who's willing to gamble with their own life won't feed chaos with their own."

Liu En did not speak.

"But let me make this clear from the start." Vitellius raised a finger, his mechanical eye zooming out to its smallest point as he pointed at Liu En. "If you ever really do something wrong, I'll be the first to tear you apart. It's not that I hate you, it's that I'm afraid of you. With chaos, it's not the one in ten thousand you're afraid of, but the one in ten thousand."

His gaze fell on the gear and skull emblem on Liu En's robe—the emblem reflected the light dimly under the lamplight, its sunken eye sockets revealing half a skull, its half a mechanical pupil shimmering. The symbol of the Mechanicus was itself a warning: man and machine as one, but also signifying that betrayal and corruption were never far away. Beneath the robes of Mars, traitors had also emerged; in the shadows of the gears, heretics had also lurked.

Liu En nodded, his expression turning serious. "I promise you. If I find anything wrong with myself, I'll be the first to tell you. Or—" he paused, "I'll be the first to end it all myself."

Vitellius stared at him for two seconds, then picked up his glass and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp.

"Alright, let's not talk about such unlucky things." He stood up, walked to the window, and stood there for about ten seconds with his back to Liu En. As he stood up, the joints of his half-body power armor bent flexibly at the waist, and the terracotta skirt armor gently collided, producing a soft metallic sound. His right mechanical fingers unconsciously tapped twice on the window frame, making a crisp "tap-tap" sound. The mechanical gear emblem on the back of his robe was faintly visible in the dim light coming in from the window—a black and white gear, half-skull, half-machine, silently watching this perpetually gray world.

"So now you need an identification code." Vitellius turned around, his tone returning to a business-like rhythm.

"Yes. Brand new, blank cruiser registration records. You said the most expensive kind is the safest."

Vitellius walked back to the table and sat down again. He picked up the half-full bottle of aged wine, poured himself a glass, and added a little to Liu En's glass as well.

"One million," he said.

"I know."

"Have you saved enough?"

Liu En took a data card from the inside pocket of his robe, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Vitellius. "One million three hundred thousand. The extra thirty thousand is for your trouble."

Vitellius glanced at the card but didn't pick it up immediately. He looked up, his biological eyes fixed on Liu En's, while his mechanical eyes scanned the digital display window on the card.

"You're just a second-tier craftsman, only been in Lucifer for three years, and you've already saved up a million?" His tone held a hint of amusement, but his biological eyes didn't dilate—this time it was genuine curiosity, not skepticism. "This time it wasn't a gift from your friend, was it?"

"I earned it myself," Liu En said. "The goods in the scrap ship warehouse weren't just sold to Agus. I also have distribution channels in the Zhongchao secondhand market."

Vitellius smiled. There was no malice in his smile, only a knowing "I knew it" in his expression. He reached for the data card and slipped it into a hidden pocket inside his robe. The fabric of his robe twitched with his movement, revealing a line of prayer embroidered in Mechanics binary code on the inside of the robe—a distinctive mark of a Level 3 novice priest, embroidered three fingers above the elbow on the inner lining, visible only when the robe was removed or the movement was significant enough.

"I'll handle the identification code issue. Give me a million, and you don't need to worry about the rest. I know people, and I can distinguish between genuine and fake items."

"Are you confident?"

"I won't take on anything I'm not sure I can handle." As Vitellius spoke, a rare seriousness flickered in his biological eyes, while his mechanical eyes remained fixed on Liu En's face, unmoving. "Lucis has been around for so many years. While a Level 3 trainee priest isn't high-ranking, he's dealt with all sorts of people. Identification codes, frankly, are all about finding the right people, getting the money, and getting the materials."

Liu En nodded. "Then I'll leave it to you."

Vitellius picked up his glass, finished the last sip of wine, put it down, and wiped his mouth.

There's something I need to ask you first.

"ask."

"Does this ship have a name yet?"

Liu En thought for a moment. "The Black Pearl."

Vitellius glanced at him, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Is there any significance to this name?"

"It's nothing, it just sounds right."

"Not bad, that's settled then." Vitellius stood up, patting the wrinkles in his robe. The deep red robe, in the dim light, resembled a patch of congealed blood. The gear and skull emblem on his chest swayed slightly with his movement, a dark reflection flashing in the skull's eye sockets. "Once the identification code is generated, the ship's name, owner, and registration information will be recorded in the system. Your friend—the black market merchant—needs to enter the correct identification code into the ship's transponder. This is standard Imperial procedure; an inquiry will be sent during port inspections, and the identification code will be automatically transmitted if the transponder is on."

"clear."

Vitellius walked back to the table, picked up the half-full bottle of aged wine, capped it, and stuffed it into his robe.

"And another thing," he said, looking at Liu En, "you've thought this through carefully. Once this has started, there's no going back."

"I've thought it through."

Vitellius said nothing more. He picked up his robe from the back of the chair and walked towards the door. The shoulder armor of his half-body power armor brushed lightly against the door frame, and he turned slightly, his right mechanical arm closing the door behind him.

"It could take one or two months, or as long as half a year," his voice came from under the door.

"OK."

The door closed.

Liu En sat alone in the workshop, looking down at his robe—the same deep red, the same gear and skull emblem. Vitellius's robe had a binary-coded prayer inside, but his didn't. It wasn't to save money; he was simply unaware of the rule. In the Mechanicus, the lining codes for each rank of priest and craftsman had strict requirements for location and format, and his imposter status was now revealed in the slightest detail.

But Vitellius didn’t notice—or he did notice but didn’t say anything.

Liu En picked up the empty cup on the table, twirled it in his hand, and then put it aside.

He thought of Vitellius's words—"If you're not right, I'll be the first to tear you apart."

This is not a threat. In the Mechanicus, in this world under the watchful eye of the gear and skull emblem, this is the most sincere promise that friends can make.

He stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the street scene of Zhongchao was perpetually gray, with shuttle buses gliding silently on the tracks and pedestrians hurrying along with their heads down.

He stood there for a while, then returned to his worktable, opened the database, and pulled up the Gothic-class cruiser blueprint that had been revised countless times.

The keel was 4,800 meters long. Armor thickness, weapon configuration, engine parameters, Void Shield energy curve—all the data was there. He checked them one by one, making sure nothing was missing.