40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 835, Section 6. Original Casting Technology (Part Two)
After pulling out the disposable needle used for blood collection—or rather, the short dagger—Shouzhu jumped off the cold iron bed that he knew all too well.

As Caul hummed a song, he rolled past not far away, his mechanical tentacles extending dozens of meters long, helping him operate those complex instruments or connect cables and do a series of things that he wouldn't normally have to do himself.

Belisarius Caul was a freak.

Outside the lab, he was a complete hands-off manager, even refusing to see the Iron Lord in person, saying he hadn't finished his research yet. However, inside the lab, he became a control freak who preferred to do most things himself, even refusing to use servants.

First Casting was puzzled by this in the past, and it still is today.

Fortunately, he had learned not to ask questions, lest Caul stand there awkwardly, like a giant bulletproof plate, caught in a dilemma, unable to explain himself, and finally just wave him off to see his newly created dessert-making machine.
This machine has been updated by Kaul to version 120. It is now extremely large and capable of producing and flavoring all the desserts that the Empire currently has and has ever had—of course, whether the latter tastes authentic has become a question that no one can verify.

Perhaps one day, the existence of the Astartes will also be questioned in a similar way.

Did they really exist? Did we really manufacture such war machines on a large scale? Is there a moral deficiency in doing so?

Contemplating these questions that may never come to pass, First Cast silently walked out of Caul's laboratory, only to bump into a group of imperial sons in the corridor.

He recognized the leader—Kius Solani, a former corporal, now the adjutant of the first company.

His title and status have changed, but his power armor remains the same.

Shouzhu stopped and nodded to him: "Lieutenant Solani."

"Ah, it's you, Anazion!" The adjutant came over warmly and shook hands with him. "Just call me Chius, there's no need to be so formal."

Shouzhu awkwardly withdrew his hand, nodded, and then asked, "You've come here...?"

“Provide a blood sample,” Kiuss continued. “Is Lord Caul in the laboratory?”

"He will stay inside from now on."

“Thank you, Anación.” Kius patted his arm. “Then we’ll go in first.”

Shouzhu stood still, watching them file in, until the last son of the emperor entered the laboratory, before resuming his journey.

At this moment, he was already somewhat distracted, with some rather complex questions swirling in his mind.

He managed to solve some of them, but the last problem remained stubbornly persistent. It was like a hanging knife, gleaming brightly high above, impossible for Shouzhu not to look at, but once he did, he would find it troublesome.

This problem is simple, but it will inevitably become more complicated over time.

First Cast knew that the Astartes were not a monolithic entity; there were quite a few factions with problems with each other. Although none of them posed a serious problem, this phenomenon more or less proved one thing—they were not the mindless cyborgs who relied on and blindly followed the Primarch in everything, as people imagined.

If this is true, then these chapters would not risk angering their respective Primarchs by expressing contempt, disgust, or even hostility toward their respective cousins.

In fact, based on First Forge's observations and experiences within the Terran Center over the years, he believes that the Primarchs are actually the ones who rely more on their offspring.

This relies on problems that Primarchs could solve simply by using their bodies, regardless of their combat abilities, leadership skills, or thinking abilities, but rather on their mindset.

Whether the Primarchs admit it or not, they are superhumans among superhumans, capable of things that are simply unimaginable to humans. Under such circumstances, it is difficult for them to discover their own problems—they are so tall that even bending down to observe the ground becomes a difficult task.

Those ordinary people who occupy the cornerstone of the empire must be down-to-earth; those who have the leisure and willpower to look to the future are ultimately a minority.

Furthermore, even if they were aware of the problem, they would probably find it difficult to say it in front of a true Primarch.

The Astartes are, in a sense, insurance. Firstly, I think. But what if these insurance policies realized they might be replaced by something better?

He walked toward his destination with a furrowed brow, and thanks to his naturally sullen face, he didn't trigger any of the automatic monitoring devices that Kaul had set up along the way.

For a time, Shouzhu was utterly fed up with them. He had no idea where the Great Sage had gotten this idea from, only finding it utterly absurd—what did he mean by 'I've completely refurbished the ship, and from now on, whenever you're unhappy, they'll notify me!'

He sighed unconsciously, reached out and unlocked a cold iron door, and returned to his room.

Two months and twelve days later, the two hundred members of the Iron Hand Legion, along with their Primarch Feralus Manus, arrived at Chemos.

They were the first to arrive.
-
With his head down, Khalil carefully turned the pages of the book.

He sat ramrod straight, looking perfectly proper, showing absolutely no trace of the slouching posture he had developed from years of endless paperwork. At the same time, he even used the same care he had when cutting pages to turn them, ensuring that each page wouldn't make a sound as it moved.
Why did the Grand Inquisitor appear so cautious?
The answer is simple: the two people standing not far from him in the same room were having a silent argument.

“That’s not wise,” Felus Manus said. “Your legion is still small, and you shouldn’t take on the responsibility of volunteers.”

“That’s precisely why I’m doing this,” Forgrim said, frowning. “I have faith in Belisarius Caul. He’s not the kind of unethical, fanatical scientist; the Salron case is a prime example. Although I’ve questioned him before, in the field of biology, we’re probably not even qualified to be his assistants. You’ve seen the data; he achieved results in just two and a half months.”

"Two and a half months may allow him to make some progress, but neither you nor I know how long he has worked hard for this small achievement. Moreover, this is not the result of his efforts alone."

At this point, Feralus Manus paused slightly, but ultimately didn't utter the name. Forgrim realized this, and his anger escalated.

"Say it." He narrowed his eyes, took a step forward, and pressed him.

"No." Iron Hand shook his head.

"speak out!"

"Do not."

“You really are—” Chermos laughed in exasperation, turning to shout at Kalil. “—Look at this stubborn block of iron, Kalil, look at him!”

“I’m reading,” the Grand Inquisitor said cautiously.

“You heard our conversation just now, didn’t you?” “I couldn’t hear very clearly,” Khalil said sincerely. “I’ve been a little hard of hearing lately, probably because I’m getting old.”

Upon hearing this, both Phoenix, who was in a fit of anger, and Gorgon, who stood motionless with his arms crossed, simultaneously revealed an indescribable expression.

“You…” Forgrim took a deep breath, gathering his composure. “You just don’t want to help, do you?”

Khalil immediately shook his head.

“Strictly speaking, none of you are at a disadvantage. Therefore, regardless of whether I want to or not, I don’t need to help. Besides, you’ve gone off-topic. The issue you should be discussing is the contradiction between the number of your legion’s members and the provision of volunteers and the potential large-scale rollout, not getting hung up on Feralus’s statement that there was no mention of Bius Bayer’s name.”

“Well said.” Iron Hand nodded. “You’re as reliable as ever, Khalil.”

Phoenix turned around and slowly said, "Listen to me, brother. I understand what I'm doing."

"I know."

"Then why don't you agree?"

“I never said I disagreed with this statement, and you shouldn’t be discussing this with me. This is an internal matter of your legion, and the person you should be talking to is Sol Tavitz. The fact that you’re coming to me to discuss this only proves that you know in your heart that what you’re doing is inappropriate, and therefore you want to seek support.”

Forgrim was speechless. He smiled bitterly, but Feralus's words did not end there.

“But I will support you,” Iron Hand said, staring at him. “Only if you gain Thor Tavitz’s approval first.”

“Alright, now you should hug each other,” Khalil suddenly said, still reading his book.

Fugrim stopped in his tracks, snorted, and turned to walk toward the door.

He pushed open the door and went out, but before leaving, he didn't forget to say, "I'll say the same thing again when you come back with Corax, Khalil."

The doors closed quietly, and the Grand Inquisitor slowly put down his book and looked at Feralus Manus, who was still standing in the same spot.

The latter nodded at him expressionlessly, but his tone carried a hint of sympathy.

"He can be very vengeful at times."

"It's quite humorous that you're talking to me about holding grudges," Khalil chuckled. "How come I never realized you were actually so good at telling jokes?"

Ferrus Manus's expressionless face finally showed a subtle change; he looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only sighed.

I have serious doubts.

"What do you suspect?"

“It’s nothing,” Felus shook his head, changing the subject.

"Have you thought about how to find Korax? I've done some investigations and efforts over the years, but they've all come to nothing. His talents seem to have mutated or evolved to some extent after entering the Warp. We simply can't contact him unless he shows up on his own. I seriously suspect that he probably knows less about the Imperium than a hive resident who reads a newspaper."

Khalil stood up, grabbed the hat he had placed on the table beside him, carefully put it on, and even wiped the cap badge clean.

He replied, "Not necessarily. After all, newspapers don't publish news in real time about where horrific disasters have occurred or where the front lines of war have been established. He's always been a very observant person, but he doesn't like to talk about what he sees. I think he'll understand something once he sees the updated weapons and equipment, and the auxiliary troops whose morale has been completely renewed."

"So, do you think he knows you're back?"

Feralus's question touched upon a crucial point. He was always like this, capable of displaying extreme precision when needed, perhaps only Dorne could rival him in this regard.

“Perhaps,” Khalil sighed. “I wish he knew, but given the current situation, it’s highly unlikely. As for how I’ll find him…”

He pulled out a state-of-the-art folding data panel from behind his waist and unlocked it.

It also bears the seal of Ottara's Five Hundred Worlds, likely one of the results of Robert Guilliman's vigorous promotion of document reform. But its unique material, exquisite craftsmanship, and the personal seal on the back prove something else entirely.

This was a gift specially given by Guilliman.

Why does he always unconsciously do things that can be interpreted as bribery and manipulation? Even Ferrus couldn't help but mutter to himself.

He stepped forward, took the data panel with two fingers, opened it, and then flipped through it.

He immediately realized that this was an internal document of the Inquisition, which listed in order all the 'moments of salvation' that had occurred since 324.M31, namely the times and places where Kolus Corax and his six hundred Raven Guards had appeared.
Iron Hand memorized them thoroughly, and at the end of the document, he saw a complex, hand-drawn star map.

Someone linked together each recorded moment of salvation in the form of dots and lines, forming a complex, unfinished pattern that looks very precise, yet possesses an eerie, magical quality.

"What is this?" Iron Hand asked, looking up.

“That’s a conjecture,” Khalil said. “You know, any activity that takes place in the material world will reverberate in the warp, and Corax’s good deed is no exception. But people are often unaware of these reverberations unless they come out and hit them in the face.”

He stepped forward, pointed to the terrifying star map with his finger, and calmly added a sentence.

"Our internal discussions have concluded that this was the work of that raptor. It's trying to end this hunt that has lasted for over nine thousand years. We don't know what it wants to do, but it's highly likely that this will happen—"

He moved his finger, pointing to the empty corner of the star map.

“—The savior,” he said. “The place where everything began.”

(End of this chapter)