Emperor's Bane

Chapter 921 Operation Sunrise

Chapter 921 Operation Sunrise (12)

The hazy star field, the Leiterin sector.

Onswald Galaxy.

The Sixty-Third Expeditionary Fleet.

"I obey your will, War General."

"Operation Sunrise is now in full swing."

No matter how much time passes, the voice of [The Twisted One] Malochist seems to never change.

Clever, cunning, and deliberately mysterious, coupled with a touch of weakness that makes one both love and hate him, the Wolf God felt he could never tire of hearing the advice, laced with conspiracy and venom, spewed from that strong body, which was being held together by a severely deformed spine: it could always find new ways to solve problems for the War General.

All it takes is to disregard a tiny bit of dignity.

And this is insignificant.

If in the past, the Wolf God was an orderly who was constantly constrained in his conduct due to the ephemeral nature of fame and reputation, then now, without the knowledge of his opponents and most of his friends, the War General has been quietly breaking some of the invisible chains that once bound him.

The warlord's mindset has been changed.

Ever since the day he was defeated on Terra.

Or rather, ever since he witnessed the sinking of the Soul of Vengeance.

It was at that time that some new ideas began to emerge in Horus's mind.

After he captured them and after much deliberation, the Primarch finally understood some things.

Being rule-abiding and overly cautious, trying to become a sun that everyone likes, doesn't always bring you benefits.

Especially when the order upon which everyone depends for survival begins to crumble: tolerance, compromise, and a sense of the big picture will only make people the first prey in the mouths of tigers, leopards, wolves, and jackals in an increasingly chaotic society. They have never been your friends, nor have they ever thought of being your friends. No matter how much goodwill you show, you cannot change the inherently greedy and despicable nature of some people.

In the midst of the Terra crisis, Horus believed he had laid out the most courteous plan. His demands were by no means excessive, and his actions and words along the way strictly adhered to the terms left by the Emperor. He also did not forget to save face for the Seals and High Lords as much as possible: even when they tried to confuse the public with the most ridiculous means, the Warmaster did his best to ensure etiquette.

He has countless reasons to be angry, and countless legitimate reasons to vent his anger.

But he didn't: he chose to be patient, and he also chose to treat people with sincerity, as he had always done.

But what was the result?

He lost his spirit of vengeance and was unjustly branded with the infamy of attacking Terra.

Instead of being the one who lost his temper, he became the target of the Shaper and Terra's wrath.

and then?
Then he came to this: a command center specifically set up to plan military operations against Terra.

It's ridiculous that things have come to this.

The people of the empire are actually going to fight each other: less than fifty years after that great expedition in which everyone was united.

And he still needs to give this order in person?
"..."

Honestly, Horus never intended for things to have come to this point.

I've given them chances: many chances.

If only Terra could be a little more realistic.

If only Marcado and the High Lords weren't so arrogant, so greedy, so ignorant and insane.

If only they were as loyal as they claim to be: even if only half of them.

If these powerful figures with connections had dared to investigate the real culprits after that fabricated bombardment of Terra, instead of venting all their anger on Shepherd God and even perpetuating the injustice done to him in the most humiliating way, they couldn't possibly be unaware of what the Soul of Vengeance meant to the Warlord.

If they had done any one of these things, things wouldn't have turned out this way.

But they didn't.

Following the rules won't earn you their respect.

Tolerance and compromise will only feed their appetite.

As for becoming the sun, that's an utterly ridiculous idea.

The High Lords saw it all too clearly: Horus was not the real sun.

He was just a moon: reflecting the sun's light, as if he could also shine.

But in the end, it's just a pitted stone ball: what's so scary about a stone ball?

Their arrogance, madness, and vulgarity forced the Wolf God to fight desperately to protect himself.

He must rise up; he must act for the insults and neglect he has suffered on Holy Terra, not only for himself, but also for his offspring, his legions, and everything behind him: if the Lord of Shadowmoon Wolves remains unmoved after his Glory Queen has been unjustly executed, then from this day forward, the Wolf God and everything protected by that name will have no place in the entire human empire.

This is why, when Horus returned to his kingdom laden with the pain of defeat, he was not met with the wavering and doubt of his people. On the contrary, the supporters of the Wolf God rallied around the Warmaster with unprecedented fervor, eager to wash away the shame on Terra with true victory and bloodshed.

When millions of throats yearning for revenge cry out for the Wolf God and the Shadowmoon Wolf, whether or not to wield the blade of vengeance against Holy Terra is no longer a matter that the War Master alone can decide.

The entire Sixteenth Legion and the entire Wolf Kingdom possessed such formidable power, along with the arrogance and confidence that matched that immense strength. No one could bear the fate of surrendering outright before the last drop of blood was shed on the battlefield.

Horus could not either.

He can lose to anyone.

Losing to the emperor: There's nothing shameful about that.

Losing to his brothers: That's normal, they certainly have things they're better at than him.

Losing to a formidable foe in the Great Crusade: Which Primarch dares to say that he has never suffered a setback on the battlefield?

Even Zhuang Sen couldn't say those words.

Horus could even accept losing to a mere mortal: he knew what wisdom and strength were actually hidden within those seemingly frail limbs, like withered tree branches. After decades of governing, the warlord had long since learned not to despise the strength of mortals, but to respect their pride and nobility.

But he lost to Terra, lost to the High Lord, lost to Makado, the one who murdered his Vengeance Soul.

No: This is the only thing that won't do!

This is not just because of humiliation and resentment; the bigger reason is actually fear.

Horus was afraid of losing to Terra, and he was afraid of letting those people of Terra arbitrate his and his followers' fate.

He knew that in the intrigue-ridden royal court controlled by the Sealholder Makado, there was no place for justice or fairness.

In full view of everyone, in front of half of the Primarchs and the representatives of the other half, the High Lords were able to disregard the truth and pin the heinous crimes on the Warmaster and the Vengeful Spirit.

If Horus were to actually concede defeat, would Macardo let him off the hook?
When the banners of Holy Terra covered every corner of the Wolf Kingdom, when the Highlords' warships hovered above the Shadowmoon Wolves, when Horus and his followers became prisoners of Macador, would they receive fair treatment? No, all that awaited them was the claws of Holy Terra descending from the heavens.

Even extermination orders or elevenths seem so tender in the face of the losers' fate.

Therefore, the Wolf God cannot lose: even for those who are willing to believe in and follow his name.

He must grip his sword tightly; he must fight Holy Terra until victory arrives, even if it means the end of those fifty golden years, the return of war and conflict to the galaxy, and the meaninglessness of all the bloodshed and sacrifice during the Great Crusade if they cannot end this war in time.

But then again: all good things must come to an end.

The alternation between peace and war has never been a rare occurrence for humankind.

Once he made up his mind, the Wolf God accepted his new role faster than he had imagined. During the most glorious years of the Great Crusade, he had declared war on those stubborn enemies countless times in the name of the Emperor and the Human Empire. This time was no different: how were the High Lords any better than those enemies of the Great Crusade?
Over the past decades, the suffering they have inflicted on the galaxy, the Empire, and countless human beings through their power and the Emperor's trust far surpasses that of any powerful enemy in the Great Crusade: even if you combine the forces of Randan and Ulanor, the number of people they have harmed is far less than that of any single Highlord.

Even for this reason alone, Horus could proudly begin his war.

Let them laugh at him.

Perhaps in the eyes of the High Lords, the Wolf God is nothing more than a stone sphere called the Moon.

But even for a stone ball, when it recklessly crashes into the glorious Terra, the outcome of the battle is still uncertain.

Moreover, from today onwards, the Wolf Shepherd will no longer be content with merely being a moon.

This was his ambition, but also a last resort.

His sun has vanished: no one knows where the Lord of Mankind is now.

Not only Horus, but the entire Empire, and millions of its people, all of whom, like the Warmaster, regarded the Emperor as their sun, were deeply affected by his disappearance. The Emperor's disappearance not only wounded the hearts of Horus, but also dragged the entire Empire into an abyss of panic and anarchy: as news of the Terra crisis spread throughout the galaxy, everyone feared the arrival of the Second Age of Strife.

Is it possible that humanity's second galactic conquest, achieved through countless hardships and tribulations, this magnificent rebirth, will ultimately vanish like a mirage?

No.

Horus would not allow such a thing to happen.

Therefore, he will become the sun: during the emperor's absence, he will assume the emperor's responsibilities.

He will no longer be content with merely reflecting the sun's rays; he will become the one who creates light, warmth, and hope.

He will become the true sun.

The sun is awe-inspiring.

A sun that inspires gratitude.

And... the terrifying sun.

He will bring peace and hope back to the galaxy, just like an emperor.

But he will also crush all his enemies with absolute power, just like an emperor.

If this is the fate that this galaxy has ordained for him.

so be it.

He chose to accept it.

------

after all……

"None of us can decide where we play in destiny: and that is the greatest charm of destiny."

Shepherd responded to Malohrus's respect with a vague remark, which also expressed his approval.

The Primarch laughed.

"do you know?"

“In the past, even just two or three years ago, I never imagined that I would actually start the [Operation Sunrise]: even though it has consumed countless efforts of ours, even though we had already formulated the specific details of the plan thirty years ago and had already implemented the first step, actually starting the plan is still unbelievable.” “I understand your feelings.”

Malohrist nodded.

"It's like the Great Crusade, the Primarch."

"We have no way of knowing how long the emperor planned for the great revival of mankind."

"But we can be certain of when the first idea for the Great Expedition was conceived."

"When he truly leads the entire army of Terra and marches towards the galaxy that has been lost for thousands of years: the Emperor must be thinking the same thing as you."

"Excitement, joy, pride, a little fear, and disbelief: that's all that's needed for great things."

"Do not."

Zhan Shuai shook his head.

“You’ve missed something, Malochist.”

During the conversation, the Wolf God had arrived at the very center of the entire strategic conference room, where an ancient relic, even larger than the original body, stood, a relic derived from the wisdom of the dark age of technology. The Wolf God stared at it silently, then turned his head and nodded to the two mortal servants standing on one side of the conference room.

"Please open it, gentlemen: thank you for your trouble."

The original text's tone was full of respect.

Two mortal servants bent down and crept past the Primarch and the Twisted One, beginning to skillfully operate this relic that was older than the Empire itself. Although it wasn't the first time he had seen this, Malohrist still couldn't help but marvel.

Even priceless ancient relics can be easily manipulated by two trained mortals: perhaps the Primarch was right after all, that mortals can do just as much as Astartes if the method is right.

On the other hand, aren't they now being cornered by a group of mortals on Holy Terra?

"..."

The Twisted One shook his head, banishing these meaningless fantasies from his mind, and turned to look at his Primarch.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask what he had missed earlier, but noticing that his genetic father didn't seem interested in speaking immediately, and was just quietly watching the mortals' actions, Malohrist could only respond to his father with the same silence, while his gaze unconsciously drifted out of the porthole.

Unswald, this lonely world, has a unique reputation in the galaxy: it is the homeworld of the legitimate mutant humans known as the Lightlings, those halflings who are short, cunning, lustful, and extremely hungry, like undeveloped monkeys, who have won a place for their race on the battlefields of the Great Crusade through their natural archery skills and strong adaptability.

There are two main reasons why the Wolf God chose the Onswald system as his assembly point before launching his offensive: First, the geographical location of the Lytrin sector is indeed very important for the upcoming war. By pressing his main fleet here, the War General can compress the Wolf Pack's sphere of influence to the extreme before the war begins.

Secondly, the Wolf God wanted to use his personal charm and generous promises to win over the Leyterian veterans on Unswald to his side before the war, giving him an extra card in the war against Holy Terra: perhaps this would decide his fate.

Judging from the results, Horus has undoubtedly succeeded once again: as the war commander of the human empire and the most glorious general in the Great Expedition, Horus has almost won over all the forces he wanted simply by virtue of his illustrious reputation when he commanded the imperial legions and the wealth and resources that filled the entire spaceport.

Hundreds of thousands of Leyterian veterans swore an oath to join the ranks of the Imperial Warmasters, using their talents in stealth and infiltration on the Terran army: although Malohrist had no faith in these lazy, pleasure-seeking, dissolute, and superstitious scoundrels, he didn’t say much more.

After all, in the Warmaster's plan, he did not intend to incorporate all these Lytarians into the combat forces: the Wolf God had other expectations for their unique talents.

As for what this expectation is?
Malohrist turned his head and silently watched the pale blue light gradually engulf the entire conference room.

It's just one of the millions of subplots and possibilities within the "Sunrise Project."

With the final, signature sound piercing the Twisted One's thoughts like a sharp arrow, he noticed that the machine before him had been fully activated: two mortal servants were bowing in respect to the Wolf God, and without being told, they left the conference room on their own.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

Nevertheless, Zhan Shuai still smiled and thanked them without missing a beat.

“You don’t need to go to such lengths, sir.”

After the mortal servants closed the door, leaving only the Primarch, his attendants, and the mindless machine servants in the large conference room, the Twisted One finally spoke to his Gene Father, offering his advice: he couldn't stand his Primarch's careful maintenance of relationships with these mortals who could be replaced at any time.

In any case, they are all consumables that no one would care about even if they died directly: they are fundamentally different from the geniuses who can enter the New Mourning Society.

Do you find this cumbersome?

The Wolf God did not look at his attendants, but walked straight to the instrument: the huge star map projector displayed all the details and secrets of the entire solar system in full before the War General, with millions of crimson curves running through it, each one symbolizing a sharp blade that Horus pierced into the holy Terra.

With a single thought from the War General, thousands of red curves changed their shape, forming a completely different attack route: The Wolf God stared at this route designed for his Lytherin Legion. As his thoughts changed, he placed it in front of dozens of routes with the same function, carefully evaluating and pondering their respective advantages and disadvantages.

After a while, the Primarch shook his head and casually tossed the route aside.

He tilted his head slightly.

Marohurst understood and stepped forward.

"Please forgive my bluntness, sir."

“I can very well understand your choice to respect and treat some capable mortals kindly, because it does indeed benefit the entire Wolf Kingdom. But I cannot understand your tendency to exaggerate this behavior: especially when facing these useless mortals, your respect for them seems more like a slight waste.”

"waste?"

Shepherd Wolf smiled.

"Okay... do you know what I'm worried about?"

"I don't know."

“I’m worried about something else.”

The Primarch extended a finger and lightly touched the blue-glowing projection in front of him. Instantly, the crimson curves seemed to come alive, like snakes awakening from hibernation at dawn, coiling around the Primarch's finger and tearing at his enemies and targets.

"I'm thinking."

"If I get used to putting aside my respect for these insignificant people for the sake of convenience."

"Then one day, I will realize that these incompetent people are no different from pigs and dogs."

"And once I get used to viewing a portion of mortals as beasts like pigs and dogs, how noble can those with a little talent be?"

“Taking this as an example, step by step, one day I will look with disdain at those mortals who are truly capable of helping me and my legion: at that time, how can I gather the strength of the entire Wolf Kingdom to fight against another enemy on the distant horizon? After all, I cannot even regard mortals as human beings.”

"This……"

The Twisted One hesitated for a moment.

"Isn't this a bit too... exaggerated?"

"Exaggeration?"

The Primarch looked at him with a smile.

“Think about it, Malohrist: how some people in the Legion, like Ezekiel or Horus the Younger, viewed mortals less than sixty years ago.”

“If I fail to set an example, then within ten years at most, things will return to what they were back then.”

"Maybe not: but can I take the gamble?"

"..."

The Twisted One fell silent.

His original body, however, was sighing.

“At least for now, I can’t gamble, Malochist.”

"Now is not the time to make enemies."

"Now, I need as few enemies as possible, and as many friends as possible."

"Terra is not an opponent to be underestimated, and the Marksman is also a formidable powerhouse. If I want to overpower them in this war, I must unite all the people and things I can unite: even those mortals who seem insignificant to us, when united, will be a powerful bargaining chip."

“If a little politeness is all it takes to get this much, then I’ll follow the rules until the day I die.”

"I understand, my lord."

The Twisted One humbly lowered its head.

"This is your wisdom."

“That is hardly wisdom, Malochist.”

"This is something else."

The Lord of Shadowmoon Wolf looked at the thousands of screeching red threads in his palm.

"Something that can make people change their preferences, tolerate their nature, and even distort their souls."

"what is that?"

Horus smiled in response to Malohrist's question.

"Remember what we just said: the last element missing to achieve greatness."

"..."