The 40k universe, a world often associated with grots for a time traveler, was, however, the best news for Zhang Ge at this moment.
A system had captured the high-dimensional information he carried the instant he crossed over to this side. Now, as long as Zhang Ge died in a reasonable manner, the system could use this high-dimensional information to instantly make him invincible. At that point, punching the Four Chaos Gods and kicking the Cold Sun would be a piece of cake.
If he had been unlucky enough to cross into some garden world, Zhang Ge might have had to worry about finding a reasonable way to die. But looking at the sky covered by something resembling clouds or more like smoke, feeling the damp trenches, exhausted comrades, and the lasgun in his hand...
Zhang Ge thought to himself that he had never had such a perfect start.
Although he couldn't ask where he was right now—lest he be mistaken for being corrupted by Chaos, and getting shot by an Inquisitor or Commissar might not count as a normal death—given the general casualty rate of the Imperial Guard, Zhang Ge would most likely not survive even if he racked his brains to protect himself, let alone if he deliberately sought death.
"Ah, hello, may I ask..."
A female voice pulled Zhang Ge's wandering thoughts back to reality. Just as he was puzzled by the appearance of a woman on the battlefield, he turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw her force feedback power armor and medical insignia.
A Sister Hospitaller. That explained it.
"Sorry, I mean no harm. It's just that everyone seems to be resting, and you appear to be more alert, so..." The Sister Hospitaller gave a faint smile and waved her hand to show she was unarmed.
It was then that Zhang Ge realized his body had instinctively reacted to the unusual situation. His hand had gripped the lasgun beside him, and before he even turned his head, the barrel was already pointing at the Sister.
"Password."
No, something was wrong.
As he asked for the password, a sense of dissonance surged in Zhang Ge's mind. Something was off.
As the suspicion flashed through his mind, the lasgun in his hand suddenly emitted a red glow without him pulling the trigger. A searing beam of light blasted toward the Sister Hospitaller's head.
The sound of the gunshot—more accurately, the sound of the air around the heated barrel expanding—instantly woke the surrounding comrades. It was only then that Zhang Ge's slightly sluggish brain realized what was wrong.
The procedure was off. If friendly forces from a different unit were being transferred, the first thing to do would be to coordinate with the officers in advance, who would then relay the information to the rank-and-file soldiers, specifying when, from which direction, which unit, and how many people.
And even if that weren't the case, during the first contact, the password exchange should always be initiated by the one making contact. A Sister Hospitaller would definitely know this.
For a Sister Hospitaller to suddenly appear in the trench like this, and for Zhang Ge, who had inherited the instincts and fragmented memories of this body, to take so long to realize it, there was only one possibility.
As the laser beam struck the Sister Hospitaller's skin, the explosion tore away her vile disguise. As a piece of flesh on her face melted and tore apart, dozens of pink tendrils instantly shredded the "force feedback power armor" from within.
A comrade who had just woken up reacted quickly. Realizing that death was inevitable at this distance, he didn't reach for his gun but instead tried to pull the pin on the grenade on his chest.
But even so, the tendrils were much faster. Their slender tips, moving at a speed almost impossible to see, pierced through the unprotected area below his neck and penetrated his brainstem, stopping all his movements physiologically.
And the worst part wasn't just that. Whether through some form of communication or not, the moment the daemon was exposed, the distant cries of fanatical heretics echoed from the far end of the trench.
On Zhang Ge's side, the moment the comrade was pierced, the tendrils, delayed only slightly by the laser, were already almost at his face.
Zhang Ge wasn't afraid—or rather, he hadn't even reacted yet. In his previous life, the reaction time of an ordinary person was around 300ms, and even a top-tier athlete with specialized training was around 150ms. In this life, as a well-trained Imperial Guardsman, he was probably in the 100ms range. The speed of the tendrils was far faster than the secretion of fear.
At this distance, for even the lowest-level daemon, everything for a mortal relied solely on instinct.
One could only marvel at the Warhammer universe, where human life was as worthless as a discarded penny.
But to his surprise, in that split second, the lasgun, which had fired once on its own, shot out another dazzling red beam. And although it was semi-automatic, the beam, shining like a hellgun's ray, showed no sign of stopping, instead spewing out continuously.
The massive recoil from the heated and compressed air pushed Zhang Ge backward, causing him to fall to the ground. This caused the tendrils to miss, and the intense, rapid-fire attacks in such a short time made the daemon let out a howl of agony, its movements delayed for a moment.
In that moment, the heavy thud of a heavy bolter from behind rang out, slamming into the exposed pink, grotesque form of the daemon. The steel-piercing rounds tore through its material form, and the continuous explosions ripped its massive body apart.
Under the heavy weapon fire, the daemon, which could have wiped out an entire Imperial Guard squad, was obliterated in an instant.
Zhang Ge, lying on the ground, was covered in slowly burning ashes, holding the lasgun that seemed to be expressing emotions with its flickering energy cell, his expression complicated.
Bro, aren't machine spirits supposed to be hard-to-please tsunderes? How did yours end up like this?