40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 484 2. Midnight

Tujia ran past with his gun raised, and the moonlight of Litatra shone on his back, sliding straight down his coat and hanging down at the corners, as if the clothes were sweating.

The boots he was wearing were not very good, and the reaction force from each time the soles of his feet touched the ground made him feel a numbness in the soles of his feet.

There's nothing you can do about it, it's just a pair of old-fashioned 'animal skin' boots, neither cold nor heat-resistant. In fact, it's not made of animal skin at all.

Tujia didn't have spare money to spend on such things, so he spent almost all of his salary on ferry tickets, food and some cheap organic candies. They can be found almost everywhere, even on cargo ships with vendors selling them.

These candies come in twelve flavors, and some say there is one hidden flavor. Tujia didn't know if it was true or not, but he had never eaten it.

Also, they taste terrible.

Just as bad as the taste that filled his mouth at this moment. He was familiar with the smell, but he had never liked it.

In the name of the Emperor, who would like to drink blood? Moreover, it is the blood of others.

No, I don’t have time to continue thinking about it right now.

Tujia forced himself to throw away these unhelpful nonsense. He raised his head and observed his most important goal now.

Thanks to the low buildings in this area, he could easily see the tall bell tower spire of the church. In the moonlight, it looked a little eerie, but it also pointed out a way for him, a strange stranger.

So Tujia immediately turned around and turned into another alley. Of course he didn't know the road, but he knew in his heart that playing a chasing game with the pursuers on the road was the same as courting death.

Fortunately, there is no shortage of alleys in the hive.

They are to the hive city what blood vessels are to humans. His boots ventured into filthy puddles, his shadow danced and twisted against the low brick walls, and his lungs were straining against themselves just enough to keep him breathing.

oxygen. Tujia began to think wildly again. Humans are addicted to oxygen, we are slaves to oxygen, we breathe deeply when we are stressed, we breathe deeply when we are tired, we breathe deeply when we are dying

We need oxygen, I need oxygen.

He took a deep breath, suddenly stopped, turned around and fired. The dirty corners of his coat were flying in the air. Tujia opened his eyes and stared at the sparks bursting from the muzzle of the gun, watching as his bullet flew into a man's chest.

It continued unabated and penetrated the other man's right hand holding the gun. Two thugs ran up from behind them, barking. The brutally modified automatic guns in their hands were gleaming. The sharp steel plates that had been deliberately polished reflected the moonlight, dazzling Tujia's eyes.

He no longer hesitated, drained his bullets, then turned around and continued running, while still not forgetting to reload.

"Kill him!" someone howled. "He wants to go to church!"

Bullets flew past him, and Tujia took a deep breath again, trying hard to maintain the rhythm of his breathing. On the ground, chemical waste slowly passed through exposed sewage pipes.

They didn't know what they had reacted with, and the acrid smoke spread deep throughout the alley, infringing on the pitiful human rights and dignity that Investigator Tujia enjoyed as a loyal citizen of the empire.

They cruelly made him cough, disrupted his breathing rhythm, and stalled his steps.

Everything has its price, and he was a step too slow, so a bullet followed, cutting through the smoke and slamming into his right shoulder.

Tujia groaned, but did not stop running.

There are big and small gangs in the hive city, and the quality of their members naturally varies. Some people have equipment that can compete with the most elite law enforcement teams, while others can only work with illegally modified automatic guns.

They usually have very few opportunities to shoot, so their shooting is completely inaccurate. Most of them are the kind of idiots who would point the barrel of a gun at themselves to check the condition of their weapons before the battle begins. However, the problem is that everyone's luck is usually equal.

They are already idiots, so they will definitely be lucky.

He's not, so he's usually very unlucky.

Another bullet flew at this time.

Tujia heard its voice and felt a sudden pain in his left abdomen. Then there was a chill, crawling up from the depths of his veins. At this moment, the pain left him, leaving only a mechanical calm.

He stopped, turned around, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger - he killed a bastard with tattoos on his face, and then shot through the throat of another man. Blood spattered and stained the face of his companion.

The moonlight shone overhead, and the dirty automatic gun was slowly raised. Tujia tightened his grip on his gun and tried to take aim at the two remaining thugs.

There was at least a few dozen meters between him and them. If he was not injured, Tujia would have the confidence to bring them down with just two shots, even on a night like this. But now he couldn't. Thanks to the injury to his shoulder, his hand holding the gun was trembling.

To aim, he must aim hard, just like what his enemy is doing.

No.

Tujia suddenly put away his gun, turned around and ran away.

If he misses, he knows it.

The hand covering his abdomen had become sticky, and the scene in front of him gradually became blurry. This means that the bullet that flew from behind, penetrated his coat and back, and finally lodged in his abdomen accidentally caused massive bleeding.

Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to become so weak in such a short period of time.

Tujia has some basic medical knowledge, so he understands that severe bleeding is almost the same as a death sentence.

Bullets continued to whizz past his ears, and the two remaining thugs were roaring, their voices sounding like mutated canines to Tujia's ears. He didn't know if he had been hit yet, but he hoped not. He ran, smoke still lingering in front of his eyes.

The last thing Tujia saw before everything fell into darkness was a black shadow that was a little too tall.

At this moment, there are still five minutes left before midnight of Litatra arrives.

——

"He'll survive," one man said.

"He'd better not die," a woman said angrily. "I still have a few accounts to settle with him."

"Don't do it in church," the man said. "You can sort this out with him somewhere else, I have no problem with that, but not in church."

"I understand, Pastor. Besides, I owe you one."

"No, we're even." The man called the priest replied nonchalantly.

Listening to this conversation that came from not far away, Tujia slowly opened his eyes. To be precise, he opened his eyes through a small gap.

He did not turn his neck, but carefully observed the place where he was now through the corner of his eye.

It took him a moment to get used to the flickering candlelight and the cold. Neither of those things was easy given his current physical condition, but he could still think, and humans were always good at thinking.

The first thing he was sure of was that the woman who spoke was the Gore he was looking for. This is certainly not good news, but it can no longer distract Tujia.

He closed his eyes again and pretended to be still asleep. However, the priest came towards him.

"In addition, Mr. Investigator." The pastor stopped a few steps away from him and spoke softly. "How did you sleep?"

Tujia opened his eyes helplessly and sat up from a mattress little by little.

It was absolutely clean before his blood stained it red.

He slowly sat up straight and found that his injured abdomen and right shoulder had been properly wrapped in bandages.

His sense of smell only 'awakened' at this time, and a strong smell of disinfectant rushed into his nasal cavity. Along with it came pains all over the body and a severe headache.

Tujia forced himself to ignore all these things. He kept a straight face and looked at the priest with an absolutely expressionless face.

He thought he would see the iconic white robes of the state church priests, but he was wrong. He only saw a man dressed as a civilian. He didn't have any memorable features. If anything, he was tall and pale. , nothing more.

Tujia was immediately alert, as has become his professional instinct. As an investigator, he is extremely keen on anything unusual, and this priest is very unusual.

There is a complete and strict promotion ceremony within the state religion. Any devout person who can be assigned to serve as a priest alone in a certain hive area must have very extreme enthusiasm.

They are not missionaries who can adapt to local conditions and create various variations of the state religion that suit local people's conditions. These people are the promoters used by the state religion to control the minds of the public. Therefore, they will set an example in their daily lives and abide by the rules and regulations brought by their faith.

One of them includes clothing indicators. The state church clearly stipulates that any priest must wear standard clerical robes on non-rest days.

Tujaa decided to speak, but he would communicate with the priest rather slowly. However, his plan failed before it could be implemented.

"You bastard!" A woman yelled and walked towards him, her voice very irritable. "You ruined my exchange!"

The female clerk's face flashed before Tujia's eyes. Then, he raised his hands very sensibly and gave a negative answer.

"No, I didn't. I didn't destroy any property that belonged to you, Citizen Gore. Only six of the guards at your exchange sustained some degree of flesh wounds. As for the bullet holes and the shattered glass door, they It’s all caused by the gang of thugs who targeted me.”

"You are very good at talking!"

Gore roared, looking furious, but didn't take another step forward. She stopped behind the priest, her rough face already flushed.

She has a prosthetic eye and a crooked nose, apparently from injuries in the past. She had a large old scar on the side of her face, leaving very visible stitching marks.

This means that the person who performed the surgery on her is a quack, which is completely inconsistent with the precision of the prosthetic eye. Her hair is a light chestnut color, and like some thugs who pursue uniqueness, she has tied it high into braids.

Just looking at Al Gore, Tujia sketched in his mind an inspirational story about his early years of hard work and hardships.

Then he said: "My eloquence is indeed appreciated by my boss. Thank you for your compliment, Ms. Gore."

After he said this, he looked at the priest without any trace.

"What the hell-"

Gore's face suddenly twitched. Logically speaking, a person like her should immediately pull out a gun and shoot Tujia's head completely through.

He understands them. Dignity is a very interesting word in the hive. Sometimes, it is worthless, and sometimes, people will bleed for it.

For a small leader like Gore, the situation of losing his dignity and being unable to regain it is probably more terrifying than death.

But she didn't draw her gun.

Tujia frowned deeply.

"You're trying to piss off Gore, Mr. Investigator," the pastor said appropriately. "That's not a good thing, I think-"

His voice was interrupted by a roar coming from outside the church.

"-Hand the man over, pastor!" someone yelled. "We know he's in there! Hand him over!"

Tujia turned his head and began to trace the direction of the sound, and also took the opportunity to observe the interior of the church.

This church is not very big, and there are no chairs even for believers who may come. However, it is filled with statues. Statues of emperors, large and small, filled every corner and every step.

Some are made of wood, some are made of stone, and some are even made of crystal. Each one of them was wiped spotless and clean. Then there were candles. There seemed to be no power system here. A few candlesticks provided the only remaining light, one of which was placed next to him.

"I'm going out."

The priest nodded to Gore and said so, then turned and hurried away without carrying any weapons. Tujia watched him leave from the side door of the church, stretched out his right hand, grabbed the candlestick, and stood up little by little.

"Sit down, idiot," Gore said contemptuously. "Also, get your dirty hands off that candlestick, it was donated by me."

Tujia ignored her, but also let go of his hand.

He walked forward little by little and walked to a simple wooden bed that was obviously used as a makeshift operating table. His coat and hat were hung on the edge of it.

It has pulleys at the bottom, handrails on the edges for pushing, and an extra small platform on which is placed an iron plate with two bullets and a scalpel in good condition, stained with blood.

The armrests are very rounded, obviously used frequently, and the color of the wood is dark red. Combining all the above things, Tujia came to the conclusion that this wooden bed was probably designed to be used as an operating table.

In other words, that priest may often do similar things to heal people and bring blood and strife to one of God's residences in the world?

This is really strange, a priest who is not religious and often violates the commandments? Not only that, there were even people from the hive who dared to come to challenge him and ask him to surrender?

Tujia slowly reached out his hand, took back the hat, and slowly put it on.

"Where's my gun?" he asked without looking back.

"At my place," Gore replied with a sneer. "You don't want to go back, do you?"

"Otherwise?" Tujia asked.

In front of her, he reached into his coat pocket and took out a handful of candies again. He selected one, peeled it open quickly, and put it into his mouth.

But this time, the taste that exploded on his taste buds was not any familiar taste, but a very special taste. He didn't know how to describe the taste, but his instinct told him that it might be a real sweet taste.

It's not sour, not astringent, and not weirdly sweet, but a sweetness that's overflowing with fragrance. It's mellow, rich, and full of a strong sense of happiness.

Tujia was speechless for a moment, and swallowed back the second half of the sentence he had prepared.

Behind him, Gore jeered.

"An investigator actually eats such cheap candy? How ridiculous. Aren't all of you lackeys from the Legal Department extremely rich?"

"Except me, obviously," Tujia said slowly, turning around. He kept the wrapper of the candy and put it in his pants pocket. He didn't want to look at the candy wrapper just yet, which might be very useful to him.

"Come on, who knows what you came to Litatra for? You sons of bitches will always cause trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Tujia asked.

"You know it yourself." The hive man replied with disgust.

"If you're talking about mutants, illegal psykers, dangerous contraband that's been banned by orders, or some cult that's brewing a conspiracy, we didn't cause these things. They already exist, and we're here to fix them. One of their people.”

"Is your solution to this problem just to hang all those involved in the law enforcement team? Regardless of whether they are innocent or not?"

Tujia sighed slowly, took the coat with his backhand, and put it on himself.

The sounds outside the church were getting louder.

"First, you have to understand one thing, Citizen Gore," he said slowly. "There are indeed innocent people in this world, but we do not have the power to pronounce judgment on this matter."

He held out his right hand.

"Now, give me my gun, if you don't want that priest dead."

Gore still looked at him with disdain, unmoved.

"He's not going to die, idiot."

"How can I see it?"

Gore didn't answer, but walked toward the small side door through which the priest had left. Tujia frowned, but still followed, all kinds of doubts still lingering in his heart.

It was impossible for the news of his coming to Litatra to be leaked, and the whereabouts of the Ministry of Justice investigators were sometimes unclear even to themselves.

Although there was a small accident on the way, many people on the starport heard the captain's curse, and the news that an investigator came to Litatra should not have spread so quickly.

Regardless of how the man guarding the door of the [Hee Kiss] bar recognized him, the reaction of the local police officer was strange enough. They actually let an investigator roam freely in their jurisdiction instead of sending people to restrict him

And now, not only could those people quickly find him running around like a headless fly in the hive, they even had the courage to rush to a church and ask the priest of the state religion to hand him over.

Of course, there is one last question, the most important question.

How was he rescued?

With these answers in mind, Tujia followed Gore towards the side door. Behind them, the candlelight still flickered, but the Emperor's statue quietly changed its appearance.

Blood began to spread on the floor.