"The machine spirit is displeased!!!"
Watching the excavator thrash about, swinging its mechanical arm wildly, the hive workers and gang members fell into chaos.
It swayed and spun as if alive, treads grinding the rubble, scattering stones everywhere.
"The excavator's gone mad?!" the gang members shouted, panicking as they backed away.
They quickly raised their autopistols, pouring bullets into the small excavator.
Sparks flew as rounds ricocheted harmlessly off its cheap ceramite shell. Even low-grade ceramite was far too tough for gang firearms.
Their hail of gunfire only seemed to anger it more. The mechanical arm smashed against nearby buildings, shaking walls and raining debris down, scattering the terrified gang members.
"What the hell do we do?!" the gang leader roared at the hive workers.
Even they were clueless. They knew just enough about machinery to be dangerous, but the "machine spirit" was something they only heard of in hushed barroom tales.
"Shouldn't we appease the machine spirit?" one worker suggested timidly.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember, that's what you're supposed to do in stories — appease it!" another worker chimed in.
"That's what I heard in the tavern too! You have to appease the spirit!" everyone started nodding and muttering.
The gang leader didn't hesitate. He grabbed the nearest gang member, shoved him forward, and barked: "You! Go appease the spirit."
"M-me?!" the gang member stammered, pointing at himself, aghast. "I'm supposed to appease it?"
"You heard me! Get to it!" the leader barked.
Shivering, the gang member crept forward, hands out, and began caressing the excavator's side with the same technique he used to charm his wife at night — soft and creepy.
Everyone stared. Incredibly, the machine actually stopped moving.
"It's working?!" the leader gasped.
The hive workers exclaimed in awe, and the gang member turned, beaming, giving everyone a thumbs-up. Applause broke out.
Then the excavator's mechanical arm rose high behind him…
WHAM!
The arm came crashing down, knocking him out cold.
The excavator's treads whirred and it resumed its rampage.
Sweat beaded on Zhou Yun's forehead. Controlling the machine from this distance with his psychokinesis and pretending it had gone rogue was draining.
But it worked — the entire gang outpost was thrown into disarray, even the guards at the water source left to help subdue the "mad" excavator. This was his chance.
Zhou Yun glanced at Mong. Mong understood immediately.
He cut his arm with his rusty dagger, and bubbling, corrosive blood oozed out.
Mong dripped it onto a stone, which hissed and pitted from the caustic fluid. "Just throw this in the water," he told Zhou Yun.
Zhou Yun nodded, vanished in a blink, reappeared by the water tank, and tossed the stone in.
Without his control, the excavator stopped thrashing. The gang, sweating and exhausted, stared warily at it.
"That should do it," Zhou Yun murmured, reappearing beside Mong and Markit.
The three of them watched from the shadows as gang members and workers drank the tainted water…
…and nothing happened.
Zhou Yun's eye twitched.
Sure, a few gang members clutched their stomachs and ran off groaning. But the rest? Totally fine.
Mong noticed his expression and muttered awkwardly, "People's constitutions vary. Some react instantly, others take hours."
Zhou Yun pinched the bridge of his nose. "So your blood's toxins are on par with dirty tap water?"
Mong nodded sheepishly. "My glands can only store so much… and I used a lot earlier on you. It's… a bit diluted now. We just need to wait."
Even Markit turned his head, clearly embarrassed.
Zhou Yun stared at the two cultists, utterly exasperated. What genius in the Garden of Nurgle spawned these two? Other cultists got blessed by Nurgle himself. These two? Blessed by Nurgle's dim-witted nephew?
He sighed and held his hand out to Mong. "Give me your dagger."
Mong blinked, then handed over the rusty, bloodstained blade.
Zhou Yun weighed it in his hand. Time for a more direct approach.
In a flash he reappeared behind the gang leader, pressing the blade to his throat.
The gang froze, whipping around, weapons trained on Zhou Yun.
"Don't move!" Zhou Yun barked. "This dagger is coated in a lethal, corrupting toxin. One nick and you'll dissolve into pus and be damned to the Warp, forever denied the Golden Throne."
(End of Chapter)
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