RNP Chapter 97 White Gloves
Chapter 97 White Gloves
Chapter 97 White Gloves
Three weeks is but a fleeting moment in the gravitational well of a star.
However, for the carbon-based life forms struggling to survive on Plenty II, this is a boundary that can determine life and death.
At five o'clock in the morning, the pale halo of the sun on Fengrao-2 had not yet pierced through the thick layer of acidic fog clouds.
In the director's office of the Eastern Grain Depot of the Seventh Agricultural War Zone, Luo Wei closed a thick "Audit Report on Personnel Mobility".
Over the past three weeks, the "Grey Mule No. 1" wheat in the A-3 experimental field, nourished by ample highly toxic waste liquid, has been frantically heading, filling, and hardening at a speed that defies the laws of nature.
Beyond this overgrown steel crop, Lo Wei also carried out a silent "weeding" operation.
"Have they all been sent off?" Luo Wei asked, picking up his coffee cup.
Buck, sitting at his desk, grinned and said, "They're gone, boss. As you instructed, I gave each of them a jug of water and a dagger, then politely escorted them out through the blast door on the north side."
That's the direction leading to the northern granary.
It is also a dead zone filled with radiation pits, acid swamps, and mutated hounds.
The three people who were "politely sent away" were Butcher Bill's spies planted in the eastern grain depot.
When Lowe last went to the northern grain depot, Bill accurately gave the precise data on "Grey Snail-1," which was intelligence provided by these informants.
Therefore, after he returned, he began to investigate secretly.
Instead of following the usual practice, Lowe chose to execute him directly.
Directly killing someone leaves bloodstains and also cracks the alliance.
As a rule-abiding auditor, he chose a more "compliant" approach:
Assets returned.
Looking out at the gray sky, Lowe said calmly, "I sent Bill a encrypted message."
"I said: As an ally, I respect your personnel arrangements. These three employees are homesick, and I have approved their departure and sent them on foot back to the northern granary to report to you. I hope they will live to see you and praise the Emperor."
Buck chuckled. "Boss, that's over a thousand kilometers. Even a tin can would rust halfway there, let alone a living person. Bill's face will probably turn as ugly as if he'd swallowed a fly when he gets this news."
He'll understand.
Luo Wei put down his cup.
This is a clearly defined warning:
Don't stretch your hand too far.
I won't kill your people because I disdain breaking the rules.
But the wasteland's ecosystem will clean it up for me.
After clearing away the "weeds" inside, Luo Wei let out a soft breath.
His fingertips caressed the cold, black ring on his ring finger.
Just three days ago, this ring, which symbolized the governor's privileges, emitted a low-frequency vibration.
After the terminal was decoded, an encrypted text message appeared from Chief Guard Lilith.
The message was concise and to the point, eliminating all unnecessary pleasantries: "The noise in the barracks has disappeared."
"The Governor's Guard has met the calorie intake target, and the guards' fingers are much more stable on the trigger."
"The Governor-General highly approves of the efficiency with which this batch of 'waste' was reused."
Previously, under the guise of "industrial waste recycling," Luo Wei secretly transported half of the batch of Grade A military rations "washed" from the northern granary to the haunted city of Spire.
It now appears that this batch of ghost supplies has had an immediate effect on the Governor's Guard.
Loyalty is often directly proportional to the feeling of fullness in the stomach.
The discontent and restlessness caused by the reduction in food rations were quickly soothed by high-calorie protein bars.
But Luo Wei saw it clearly: behind this "high approval" lay a deeper political subtext.
In fact, as the Valantius family, who ruled the entire planet, how could their intelligence network not know about the mountains of supplies piled up in the northern granary?
Even though Butcher Bill was a warlord, he had few secrets from the eyes of the governor's spies.
That batch of military rations, which had been stuck for three years, was like a piece of fatty meat on a plate, but one that was impossible to swallow, for the Spire, which was suffering from severe food shortages.
The difficulty lies not in "discovery".
The key lies in how to "acquire" it.
Within the empire's administrative system, it was a strategic reserve subordinate to the Ministry of Military Affairs.
Every can of food is on record in the Holy Terra database.
If the Governor-General's Office directly conscripts the funds, it would constitute "misappropriation of military funds," leaving a fatal handle for political enemies and attracting an investigation from the Ministry of Justice.
This is a dead end.
The big shots can see it, but they can't touch it.
What made Loewe so clever was that he didn't try to untie the knot, but instead burned the rope.
Using his professional accounting skills, he redefined this batch of "sacred military assets" as "industrial waste contaminated by subspace."
Since it is waste, it is no longer subject to the military affairs department's material management regulations; since it is garbage disposal, there is no need for cumbersome approvals.
He did more than just deliver food.
It also provided a perfectly compliant "excuse".
He proved to the governor his irreplaceable role as a "white glove":
He can solve problems that important people find inconvenient to handle themselves.
Bringing his thoughts back, Luo Wei picked up the parchment document from the corner of the table, which was stamped with a bright red double-headed eagle wax seal:
Emergency Mobilization Order for Wartime Tithing Tax in the Gothic Sector, Abundance II
This was a strict order issued by the Governor-General's Office to the heads of the twelve major agricultural war zones and major granaries.
The document uses very strong language, leaving no room for bureaucratic evasion.
"—Given the critical situation in the Great Rift War, there must be no shortfall in the tithe payment quota this time."
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"Anyone who fails to pay the full amount will have their granary supervisor stripped of all political rights and sent directly to the servant modification workshop to serve as raw material for the servo skull."
Punishment is physical destruction.
Luo Wei's gaze shifted downwards, landing on the last line of the document.
What he was truly concerned about was: "Those who exceed the quota will receive a special commendation from the Governor's Office and will have priority in the allocation of supplies for the following year —"
Luo Wei tapped the words lightly, his eyes gradually becoming deep and unfathomable.
To ordinary people, this is just empty official rhetoric, or perhaps just a hefty bonus.
But in Luo Wei's eyes, the weight of these words was greater than that of the batch of Grade A military rations.
Priority right to allocate supplies.
On the resource-scarce planet of Fertile 2, this means both "pricing power" and "the right to survival".
If they obtain this power, the following year, when the western granaries urgently need fuel, or when the southern granaries urgently need water purification filters, they will all have to rely on Luo Wei's approval.
This is not merely the distribution of resources; it is the transfer of power.
Luo Wei's ambitions never went beyond being an obedient "employee" or a "granary manager" who could be sacrificed at any time.
He intends to use this tithe opportunity, and this so-called "priority," to build a network of interests centered around the eastern granaries.
He wanted to ensure that the warlords, officials, and old fogies in the Executive Yuan around him would have to depend on him for survival in the future.
He wanted to become the true "decision-maker" of the entire Seventh Agricultural War Zone.
Only by gaining greater power can he truly establish himself and stop being a pawn to be slaughtered at will.
This is a small goal he set for himself.
The first step to realizing this ambition is the harvest that is about to begin.
Everything is ready; now, only the final step remains.
He transformed the rock-hard grain from the ground into numbers in the warehouse, and into the ladder that allowed him to ascend to the top of power.
Thinking of this, Luo Wei suddenly stood up.
"Come on, Buck, let's go to the fields and get ready to harvest the future."
The eastern granary of the Seventh Agricultural Theater.
Edge of core experimental field A-3.
Although there was no wind, the sound of wind blowing through the wheat fields could be heard.
An endless expanse of gray-white crops, teeming with life.
The edges of the blades are covered with fine serrations, and they sway with the airflow, making a soft "ding-ling-ling" sound.
On the edge of the field, Luo Wei, wearing a heavy hazmat suit and a filter mask, held a serrated dagger in his hand.
Before him stood a fully mature "Grey Snail No. 1".
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The wheat crop before us can hardly be called a plant anymore.
After frantically consuming strong acid waste liquid, heavy metal sludge, and bone powder from mutated beasts for half a month.
Its biological characteristics have undergone fundamental changes.
The stems are no longer green fibers, but have turned a sickly grayish-white, with a thick layer of biosilicified material covering the surface.
Under the beam of searchlight, it exudes a cold, hard mineral luster.
Lowe reached out and, through his thick cut-resistant gloves, grasped a wheat stalk about the thickness of his wrist.
It feels cold, hard, and rough to the touch.
He raised the serrated dagger in his hand and swung it down with all his might at the lower middle part of the stem.
"when!"
A crisp clanging sound rang out, and sparks flew everywhere.
Luo Wei felt a tingling sensation in the palm of his hand.
He sheathed his dagger and moved closer to examine it.
The outer layer of the wheat stalk was left with only a light white scratch, while the vascular bundles inside were completely undamaged.
In contrast, the dagger in his hand had chipped and was chipped.
"Its Mohs hardness is about 6.5, which is higher than that of ordinary glass and orthoclase, and close to that of a hardened steel file."
In Luo Wei's mind, the parameters of this asset were quickly updated.
These aren't crops; they're clearly miniature reinforced concrete pillars growing out of the ground.
However, he was not discouraged at all.
On the contrary, through the glass of his mask, his eyes revealed an appreciation based on industrial aesthetics.
He did not attempt to break it with his bare hands.
This is something only Oglins and Space Marines could do.
He pulled a hydraulically assisted tactical clamp from his toolbox and used it to clamp the connection point of the wheat ear.
With a slight hum from the servo motor, the heavy ear of wheat was finally "cut".
Holding it in my hand, it was surprisingly heavy, like a lead ingot.
Lowe placed the ears of wheat on a flat stone and struck them hard with the metal handle of his pliers.
"Click."
The hard, stone-like silicified shell cracked under blunt force.
The tapping was successful because this bio-silicified structure has extremely high surface hardness and amazing wear resistance.
However, it lacks the ductility and impact resistance of metals, and is relatively weak.
Just like granite with a Mohs hardness of 6.5, which can scratch steel plates but cannot withstand the blows of a hammer.
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