Because everyone had expended a lot of mental energy, they didn't chat much and went home.
Luka simply fried an egg and boiled a bowl of noodles for dinner, then tidied up and went out to throw away the trash.
While throwing out the trash, he encountered Liu Yi again. After a friendly greeting, Luka returned home.
Liu Yi glanced at the items Luka had thrown into the clean, seemingly new trash can, then threw his own trash into a noticeably dirtier trash can nearby.
Then, he casually looked around before turning to leave.
After he left, a masked cleaner quickly came forward, dragged away the clean trash can, and replaced it with another trash can that looked no different from a normal one.
The cleaner pushed the trash can normally out of the building, back to the trash station, and then a brand new garbage truck loaded the trash can and drove out of the residential area.
Back in his apartment, Luka stood by the huge floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and happened to see the departing garbage truck.
He poured himself a glass of red wine, gently swirled the glass, watched the wine cling to the sides, sniffed its aroma, and a slight smile appeared on his face.
"The gift has been sent; it just depends on how much can be digested." Perhaps influenced by his experience as a Planetary Governor in the 40k World, Luka's current behavior and lifestyle tended to align with that Inquisitor Governor.
He gazed at the wine sliding down the rim of the glass, and in a trance, he seemed to see himself still standing in the Governor's Office on Rostov II, with the Space Necron Fleet shimmering with an eerie green light before his eyes.
The sound of those mechanical skeleton soldiers firing Gauss Weapons, and the screams they emitted when the green rays struck Defense Force soldiers and Battle Sisters, still pierced his eardrums in his midnight dreams.
After all, he had spent much longer in the 40k World than in the 3k era. Less than a month had passed here, while several years had passed in the 40k World, so changes in living habits were inevitable.
When he subconsciously rubbed his plasma pistol with his fingers, following his habit from the 40k World—he suddenly realized he was gripping a TV remote control.
In fact, not only him, but several of his companions were also significantly affected.
During their last dinner, 32's posture while cutting steak looked exactly like he was dismantling the living metal bodies of Necrons, while Mai Mai and Twilight always unconsciously checked the material of their steak knives, muttering, "This thing can't kill a Bloodletter."
However, Luka had carefully consulted about this issue, and the servitor skull's answer was that it did not constitute a real impact; this was just a normal change caused by a person's experiences.
Luka remained noncommittal about this, but he was also somewhat wary in his heart.
He still remembered those mechanical skeletons crawling out of ancient tombs deep in the Rostov desert, their eye sockets glowing green like ghost fires seeking lives.
Amidst the hum of Gauss Weapons, Battle Sisters in Power Armor turned into Ash-black grit under the green beams—and now, he could calmly listen to the shouts of the scrap collector downstairs.
After all, the flow of time in the 40k era was much faster than here, which meant that this group of people spent much more time in the 40k era than in the 3k era.
Less than a month in the 3k era, but several years had passed in the 40k era. If they stayed a bit longer, a significant part of an ordinary person's life might just pass by.
To say there was no impact at all was simply impossible.
The only thing Luka could do was to uphold his original intention, not be influenced by the memories of the 40k World, and constantly tell himself that everything in that world was just a game, an illusory journey.
"Damn it! Huang Lao Han is indeed one of the five evil gods, the Black King. This is even harder to guard against than the Necrons' phase shift!" Luka cursed, drank the red wine in his glass in one gulp, his face looking somewhat grim.
His bloodshot eyes stared at the remaining wine in the glass, and in a trance, it reflected the Chaos Cruiser destroyed during the previous Chaos Warband attack, its burning metal wreckage silently exploding in the vacuum, much like the fireworks erupting outside the window at this moment.
Although this subtle influence might indeed be minor, as long as they did not stay in the 40k era for extended periods in a short time, these effects could gradually fade.
However, neither Luka nor his friends could simply give up like this.
Everything in the 40k World might be a game with full realism for them, but when they stayed in that world for a long time, and their memories, habits, and all aspects were influenced by that world, they might very well lose track of which world was real.
Or, when you are a humble social animal in the 3k era, constantly overwhelmed by work and life, but in the 40k era, you are a tactical genius who can command the Astra Militarum to repel the awakening of ancient tombs, or an archaeological sage who deciphers Necron technology codes, would you still be willing to stay in the 3k era?
Luka did not know the answer to this question.
Amidst the sound of water in the shower, he looked down at his palm—this hand had severed the heads of Necrons' living metal, and could also pick up a spatula for frying eggs.
He had gained enough benefits from the 40k era. The monetization of these benefits had a huge impact on his life; he could now ensure a comfortable and prosperous life for the rest of his days.
If he was willing to let go and send the military crate used for crossing over to No. 14 East Chang'an Street, then all of this would no longer concern him, and he could happily live out the comfortable and affluent rest of his life.
But was he willing to let go?
Luka asked himself, he could not let go now.
Rostov had cost him a lot of effort. Even playing a game would make him feel attached to his account, let alone an entire planet!
If my world save was lost, I would be sad for several days and couldn't sleep. If I gave up this opportunity to cross over, Luka wasn't sure if he would regret it and beat his chest when he was old.
"Damn Huang Lao Han! He really harms people deeply!" Luka cursed again, then took off his clothes and walked into the bathroom, rinsing his head with cold water, trying to calm himself down and stop thinking about these annoying things.
He gazed at the familiar yet strange face in the mirror, and in a trance, he saw himself wearing sacred Power Armor, holding a Power Sword, and roaring, "For the Emperor!"
He suddenly waved his hand, wiping away the steam from the mirror, and Luka came back to his senses.
Wrapped in a bath towel, he returned to the living room and poured himself a second glass of wine.
When the first ray of morning light climbed onto the floor-to-ceiling window, he was still sitting upright.
The massive desk of the Planetary Governor and the apartment dining table overlapped in the terminator line, the hum of the Power Sword and the sound of the refrigerator compressor vibrated in different times and spaces…
Finally, he got up, pulled open the curtains, and squinted his eyes at the rising sun.
At least at this moment, he was both the Inquisitor Planetary Governor of Rostov, who could decide the life and death of billions, and an ordinary person who had a headache over garbage sorting.
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