Warhammer Cultivation: Cultivating the Tao Te Ching in the 40K Universe

This theory is so absurd, so... heretical.

But at the same time, it is so... tempting.

If "I" am not real, then how can "my" suffering be real?

“…Write it down.” After a long while, Luo Jia finally spoke in a hoarse voice, almost like a dream.

Hector nodded. He walked to a corner of the quiet room, where a carefully polished, smooth obsidian slab had already been prepared, along with an engraving pen made of an unknown metal that could leave silver marks on the slab.

He took a deep breath, and from his fingertips emerged a wisp of pure white true essence, almost tangible. This essence was not a sharp blade, but rather more like living 'ink,' full of order and harmony. When he put pen to paper, he was not carving, but 'writing' the Dao. Each stroke imprinted his understanding of 'dependent origination and emptiness', like a sacred code, deep into the obsidian's crystalline structure.

The Heart Sutra.

He did not write the entire text, knowing full well that for a Dao heart that had just risen from the ruins, too much sweet rain would only cause drowning. He only inscribed a few words that were enough to break through the chaos and establish a foundation.

"When Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva practiced the profound Prajna Paramita, he saw that the five aggregates were empty and was able to overcome all suffering..."

As the last stroke was made, Hector's face was deathly pale, his forehead covered in a fine layer of cold sweat that almost soaked through his black hair. His fingers, gripping the engraving brush, trembled uncontrollably. To use himself as a "bridge" to inscribe this scripture, containing one of the ultimate wisdoms of the universe, onto the matter of the real universe had nearly drained all his vital energy; the mental and physical exertion was immeasurable.

At that very moment, the obsidian slab seemed to come alive. It was no longer a cold stone, but had transformed into a miniature core of a domain radiating absolute 'silence'. The viscous, mercury-like psionic field in the quiet room, composed of Loka's sorrow and despair, melted and dissipated silently and rapidly upon contact with this domain, like grease being thrown into a hot knife, revealing a pure 'vacuum zone' untouched by any emotional pollution.

A strong wave of dizziness suddenly washed over him, and the world began to spin before his eyes. Hector staggered, his body unable to support him any longer, and he slumped to one side.

However, he did not fall to the ground.

A tall figure appeared beside him like lightning, a huge and powerful hand belonging to a demigod steadily supporting his shoulder as he was about to fall. That hand was warm and firm, and through the thin monk's robe, it conveyed a reassuring strength.

In that instant, the original gene, having recovered from the shock of the Heart Sutra, reached out and helped him up.

Loga approached the obsidian slab. He extended the hands that had once easily crushed a Space Marine's skull, and with his fingertips, gently, almost reverently, caressed the silver characters imbued with exotic wisdom. The instant his fingertips touched the first silver character, a cool, pure, yet infinitely encompassing 'intention' surged from his fingertips into the depths of his soul. It wasn't an energy surge, but rather a kind of… 'soothing'. The Monakia fire that had burned within his soul for centuries, under the cleansing influence of this intention, miraculously, temporarily subsided, its searing pain temporarily quelled.

“Observe…freedom…” he murmured, as if savoring the endless mysteries behind those two words.

“Hector Kane.” He didn’t turn around, but his voice became incredibly clear. “You may leave now. I want to… be alone for a while.”

Hector knew he had said everything he needed to say. The rest was up to Loka to figure out for himself.

He bowed respectfully, then turned and silently left the quiet room.

As the heavy stone door slowly closed behind him, he turned back for one last look.

He saw that the Primarch, who had once tried to find a god for the entire galaxy, was now kneeling alone before the stone slab inscribed with the Heart Sutra, gazing at it for a long time, like a most devout, novice apprentice.

Hector understood. This proud Primarch had worshipped countless false shrines throughout his life, but this was the first time he had truly...

Kneel down before your own heart.

Hector knew that at the end of the "stripping away" process, the faintest trace of "restoration" yang energy had finally appeared.

And he successfully planted a seed called "Prajna," which shared the same roots as the "Way of Silence" yet possessed a unique character, into the already scorched earth of this lost son...

Chapter 20 Irebas's "Poison"

After Hector Kane and Loka's "heart-to-heart talk," which was enough to overturn faith, time on the "Words of Loyalty" seemed to be stretched into viscous and distorted amber.

Primarch Logar completely shut himself off in the meditation room where the Heart Sutra was enshrined, never to step out again. He refused all audiences, including those of the priests he had once trusted most. The highest authority on the entire warship fell into an eerie vacuum. But every Word Bearer could sense that behind that tightly closed obsidian door, an unprecedented and violent intellectual storm was brewing.

Eribus, the Legion's first priest, vanished from public view after being publicly humiliated by the Primarch. He never reappeared at the Temple of Truth, nor did he convene any more gatherings. Like an enraged viper, he silently retreated to his dark lair deep within the warship.

But Hector knew that for people like Arebas, silence was often more deadly than roaring.

He could vaguely sense through his psychic powers that a cold, viscous malice, filled with resentment and scheming, was silently spreading like a spiderweb within the warship's underlying structure. It wasn't directed at him, at least... not directly at him. The target of that malice was something much larger, more vulnerable, and more... innocent.

The storm arrived silently on the morning of the tenth Terra Day, in a manner most befitting its mastermind.

The first case appeared in the civilian auxiliary military camp on the lower deck of the warship. It was an elderly slave laborer responsible for cleaning plasma pipes. He had just felt a sudden, bone-deep fatigue while working. He thought it was just overwork and didn't pay much attention to it. But that night, his body began to swell uncontrollably, and his skin oozed a sticky sweat with a rusty smell and a strange sweet fragrance.

The legion's pharmacists quickly intervened, but their advanced medical technology, capable of dealing with any known biological virus and chemical weapon, proved utterly ineffective against this slave laborer. Scanners failed to identify any pathogens, and genetic probes found no abnormal sequences. They could only watch helplessly as the slave laborer's body, like over-fermented dough, swelled and softened, finally dissolving into a pool of bubbling, foul-smelling green pus with a nauseating, tearing sound.

This is just the beginning.

Panic, like a real plague, spread faster than the mysterious disease itself. Over the next forty-eight hours, hundreds of mortal auxiliary soldiers on the lower decks began to exhibit similar symptoms. First came fatigue, then edema, and finally, the irreversible and terrifying liquefaction.

But the most terrifying thing is not the decay of the body, but the collapse of the spirit.

In the later stages of the illness, all infected individuals fall into a strange delirium filled with a sense of "bliss." They smile and, in an almost aria-like, joyful voice, describe to those around them their feeling of "rebirth." They say they feel no pain, only an unprecedented warmth, as if embraced by a "loving father." They praise the beauty of "decay" and sing of the joy of "ending."

This spiritual contagion was far more deadly than the physical plague. Like drops of dark ink falling into clear water, it quickly polluted the morale of the entire mortal camp. Despair, fear, and a morbid longing for that "happy death" began to spread among the people.

The lower decks of the "Words of Loyalty" are rapidly transforming from a disciplined barracks into a...living, breathing hell.

Just as the Legion's apothecaries were at their wits' end and preparing to implement the most severe "isolation and purification" protocol—that is, to completely seal off the entire lower deck and inject it with strong acid capable of melting steel—a rumor began to quietly spread among the Space Marines.

"Have you heard? This plague only started after that 'advisor' from Terra boarded the ship."

“His theories… what ‘silence’ and ‘tranquility’… sound like some kind of… curse. He has disrupted the Legion’s faith and blasphemed the ‘Primordial Truth,’ and this must be some kind of… backlash!”

“I heard that Pastor Jaha warned us that the ‘word’ of that mortal would bring disaster. Now it seems that his warning has come true…”

These rumors, like a meticulously crafted script, precisely pointed all the blame at the insignificant mortal sitting peacefully in the quiet room—Hector Kane.

Eribus didn't even need to appear in person. He only needed to gently breathe into the ears of his most loyal followers.

When Hector was "pleaded" by the Second Reverend Jahath's face, which was full of "compassion" and "concern," to come to the lower deck, which was like a living hell, he immediately understood everything.

What he saw was more than just a plague.

His eyes, refined by true essence, could sense an invisible, grayish-green chaotic energy permeating the air, filled with the aura of "entropy" and "decay." This energy, like countless tiny, greedy maggots, was burrowing into the bodies of every mortal auxiliary soldier through their seven orifices, gnawing at their life force and polluting their souls.

Above the head of each infected person, there was an even denser mass of "qi," like swampy mud. That mass of "qi" was filled with joy, satisfaction, and a kind of... fatherly love for returning to "ultimate decay."

The "Lord of Plague" and "Father Nagu" are among the four evil gods of chaos.

Hector's heart sank to the bottom. He knew this was no accident. It was a... meticulously planned "sacrifice" against him.

Eribus is using the lives of thousands of mortals to pledge his allegiance to his new master. At the same time, he intends to use this unquenchable fire to completely reduce Hector, along with his nascent "Way of Silence," to ashes.

A clever plan to kill two birds with one stone.

“Advisor Kane,” Jaha’s voice rang out beside him, filled with a hypocritical sorrow, “Do you see? This is… the price of straying from the ‘Original Truth.’ My Lord has wavered because of your words, and cracks have appeared in our faith. And the ancient forces lurking deep within the universe have unleashed their punishment from these cracks.”

"What are your thoughts on this?"

Chapter 21 Hector's "Dan"

Hector ignored his trap-filled questioning.

He slowly walked up to a young soldier who was in the early stages of his illness. The soldier was huddled in a corner, trembling with uncontrollable exhaustion and fear.

Hector crouched down and extended one finger.

He didn't touch the soldier's body, but instead gently placed his fingertips on the soldier's forehead.

“Guard your heart.” Hector’s voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable power. “Visualize a high mountain, a… snow mountain that will never collapse.”

A wisp of pure, gentle true essence, brimming with the breath of life, flowed from his fingertips like a gentle stream, slowly seeping into the soldier's chaotic mental world.

The soldier's body trembled violently. His pupils, which had been unfocused by fear, refocused. He felt a cool, pure power, like a clear spring from a snow-capped mountain peak, instantly washing away the whispers of despair and temptation that filled his mind. Miraculously, the deep-seated weariness in his bones subsided slightly.

“I…I feel…much better…” he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief.

Seeing this, the hostile and scrutinizing gazes around them wavered slightly. Even Jaha, whose face was as hard as rock, showed a hint of undisguised surprise.

But Hector's brow furrowed deeply.

He withdrew his finger, his face even paler than when he had inscribed the Heart Sutra in the Loka Sanctuary.

He discovered that purifying this "Nurgle's aura" was a hundred times more difficult than confronting the pure malice of Erebas. Nurgle's power wasn't simply destruction; it also carried a disguise of… "compassion." It wasn't "attacking" your soul, but rather "embracing" you, "assimil" you. It was telling you, surrender, give up, and in decay, you will find eternal peace.

This power holds a fatal attraction for those ordinary people who are already struggling at the bottom of the empire and are exhausted both physically and mentally.

The brief "treatment" that lasted only a dozen seconds had nearly depleted a third of his vital energy. And here, there were thousands of infected people.

He can't save everyone.

At least, this method won't save them.

"Advisor Kane?" Jaha's voice rang out again, this time with a hint of barely perceptible tension. "You... seem powerless to help as well?"

Hector didn't answer him. He simply stood up slowly and closed his eyes. His mind, at that moment, was working at an unprecedented speed.

One plan after another flashed through his mind, only to be rejected one by one.

Unleashing the "Silent Domain" on a large scale? No, that can only temporarily suppress it, not eradicate it. Moreover, it would completely expose his strength, attracting even more terrifying surveillance.

Asking Luo Jia for help? Absolutely not. That would be tantamount to admitting defeat and handing the initiative back to Arebas.

Just when he was about to fall into a desperate situation, a long-forgotten image from his distant homeland, filled with the scent of herbs and flames, flashed through the fog in his mind like lightning.

Those were Lin Chen's memories. In his memories, he was frail and sickly when he was young, and his grandfather, an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor, would always patiently brew bowls of dark, bitter, yet incredibly effective herbal soup for him.

“Illness has its ‘form’ and its ‘qi’.” Grandpa’s aged yet gentle voice transcended the boundaries of time and space, resounding in his ears. “Good medicine should not only be able to remove the ‘form’ of the disease, but also be able to support the ‘righteous qi’ of a person. When righteous qi is abundant within, evil cannot invade.”

Righteousness...when stored within...evil cannot invade...

Hector's eyes snapped open! A dazzling, unprecedented light burst forth from his dark pupils!

He understood it completely!

Isn't his true essence the purest and most fundamental "righteous energy" in this universe?

And isn't this plague right now the most vicious and filthy "evil spirit"?

He alone cannot "uphold righteousness and dispel evil" for thousands of people. But what if... what if he could infuse his own "righteous energy" into a "medicine" that everyone could take?

This word, which is full of mystery and legend in Chinese civilization, appeared in Hector Kane's mind for the first time in this cold, dark universe where only steel and genes exist!

This is not a mere fantasy, but a completely new path full of infinite possibilities, derived from the profound theories of "qi" and "medicine" in the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic, combined with his own unique "true essence"!

He recalled the "principal, assistant, adjuvant, and guide" theory of traditional Chinese medicine from his previous life. A prescription is not simply a collection of ingredients, but a "military formation" with a clear division of labor.

The "principal herb" is the core of the prescription, playing a major therapeutic role in treating the primary disease or symptom.

"Ministerial medicine" refers to medicines that assist the principal medicine in strengthening its therapeutic effect on the main disease and symptoms.

"Adjuvant medicine" is used to treat secondary symptoms or to eliminate or reduce the toxicity of principal and assistant medicines.

The "medicine guide" is responsible for directing the medicine to the appropriate meridians and guiding it directly to the affected area.

In Hector's eyes, the light of wisdom grew ever brighter. His brain, enhanced through training and rivaling a logic engine, instantly found a completely new "translation" for this ancient theory in this technological universe!

His true essence, that pure and clean energy representing "order" and "vitality," is undoubtedly the irreplaceable "king" in this prescription!

And aren't those compounds that can resist corrosion and stabilize the mind, and those biological agents that can strengthen the human immune system, the best "ministers" and "assistants"?

As for "making"... he needs a medium, a medium that can perfectly fuse true essence with these compounds and can be smoothly absorbed by the mortal body!

A completely new field, full of challenges and hope, suddenly opened up before him!

“Pastor Jahar.” Hector turned around abruptly, his eyes burning with the flames of wisdom staring directly at the other man. The aura of confidence and power that burst forth instantly caused the high-ranking Space Marine priest to unconsciously take a half step back.

"I need a top-level alchemy laboratory with the capabilities for material synthesis and catalysis. I need access to all the information on herbs, compounds, and biological agents on the warship. I also need a few... apothecaries with clear minds, who are not bound by foolish fears, to be my assistants."

Jaha was taken aback by Hector's sudden, almost commanding tone: "What are you going to do?"

Hector's lips curled into a confident and composed smile.

He looked at the hellish landscape being devoured by the plague, at the mortals struggling in despair, at Jaha's face filled with astonishment and uncertainty, and he seemed to see, in the shadows, Arebas's face about to twist with shock.

Then, in a calm yet powerful voice that could shake the entire warship, he slowly spoke:

"I want to... refine elixirs."

Chapter 22 Spying on Mars (Bonus Chapter 1)

When the words "alchemy" were uttered by Hector Kane in his calm voice, the air on the lower deck seemed to freeze for a moment.

High Priest Jaha and the Space Marines behind him, clad in dark red power armor, all wore identical expressions of confusion and absurdity. They had heard of alchemy, genetic engineering, and even the most blasphemous chaos magic, but the word "alchemy" was so foreign to them that their minds couldn't find a suitable definition for it for a moment.

"Refine... pills?" Jaha repeated subconsciously, a pure and undisguised bewilderment appearing on his rock-like face.

“Yes, alchemy.” Hector’s lips still held that composed smile. He knew that he had presented a completely new concept that was enough to overturn the existing knowledge system of this universe. And he had to use a language they could understand to give this concept “legitimacy.”

Jaha's bewilderment lasted less than three seconds before being replaced by a deeper, fanatical vigilance. The red-hot embers in his eyes reignited, and his voice turned icy: "Advisor Kane, I must remind you. What the Legion needs now is a 'method' to solve the plague, not yet another set of...unheard-of 'philosophies'."

“What I’m talking about is the ‘method’,” Hector said, meeting his gaze with neither humility nor arrogance. “A method… that can transform the ‘Tao’ I spoke of earlier into a ‘tool’ that can be used by mortals.”

"Tao" and "Qi"—these two terms, brimming with Eastern philosophical speculation, made Jaha's brow furrow even deeper. But before he could refute them, Hector gave him no further chance.

“I need a top-level alchemy laboratory,” Hector said directly to a company commander next to Jaha. His tone had changed from “request” to a kind of “demand.” “The plague is spreading every moment, and the First Priest of Eribas’s conspiracy… oh, sorry, the so-called ‘punishment’ won’t wait for us to have pointless debates here.”

He deliberately uttered the words "Arebas's conspiracy," then quickly corrected himself. That sarcastic slip of the tongue instantly turned Jaha's face incredibly ugly. He knew that this mortal before him was far more troublesome than he had imagined. Not only was he unafraid, he even... intended to turn the tables on him.