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

It is like an absolute "void" forcibly "dug out" from the real universe.

He carefully probed in with a wisp of pure Foundation Establishment Realm true essence.

The box, as if it possessed a life of its own, emitted a deep, resonant sound, like the starting of an ancient starship engine. Then, its smooth, mirror-like surface, like melting ink droplets, silently slid open to both sides, revealing what it contained.

It was not any of the threats Hector had anticipated—there was no poison gas, no bombs, and no form of psionic curse.

Inside, lying quietly, was an ancient scroll made of some unknown material that shimmered with a faint silver light, like metal foil.

An ancient faction on Terra has extended its invitation in this silent, understated yet skillfully executed manner.

It's telling Terra's new leader the significance of this invitation.

Chapter 115 The hexagram is not apparent.

On the scroll, an invitation, full of courtesy and authority, is written in an ancient, non-human script that is full of spiral and geometric beauty.

"To His Excellency Dean Hector Kane, the leader of the 'Intercepting Sect Academy' and the great practitioner of the 'Way of Silence'."

"Ancient bloodlines pay the highest tribute to newly born wisdom."

"The universe is a dark ocean filled with storms. And we are all travelers sailing in the darkness. You lit the lighthouse of the 'Tao,' and we, generation after generation, guard the 'eye' that can see through the storms. The lighthouse and the eye should go hand in hand."

"Navis Nobilit, of the 'Pathfinder' Court family, we cordially invite you to our private star chart house in the upper Terra, 'Traveler's Summit,' in three days for a friendly meeting about the future of psionics and the role the Pathfinder family plays in this new transformation."

We look forward to your visit.

The signature is a family crest consisting of three open eyes radiating psychic light, exuding mystery and majesty.

When those three words surfaced in Hector's mind, a hint of seriousness flashed in his eyes, which were as calm as an abyss.

The Navigators, Navis Nobillitt. They are neither ordinary humans nor psionicists. They are a unique mutant race, created by the most ancient genetic alchemy, possessing a stable genetic makeup and a third "Navigator's Eye."

That eye could see directly into the essence of the warp, guiding the Empire's billions of fleets through that chaotic ocean filled with madness and illusion, onto a safe course.

They are the most indispensable "blood" upon which the vast war machine of the Empire relies to operate. They possess a near-independent and exalted status granted to them by Imperial law. Their family spires are scattered throughout the galaxy, like independent kingdoms not governed by any other power.

They were also the oldest, wealthiest, and most... mysterious nobles in the entire empire.

And now, this proud mutant race, which never has any in-depth contact with any outside forces, has actually taken the initiative to extend an olive branch to him, a "newly rich" who has just gained a foothold in Terra.

This olive branch, seemingly full of temptation, is also... full of deadly thorns.

He knew that the Guardians were currently undergoing their first "Tempering" trial in the distant Necromonda. At this moment, Terra was almost entirely alone.

He slowly closed his eyes.

He temporarily shut out the invitation, which was full of unknowns and variables. He immersed all his mind in the vast ocean of true energy in his dantian.

He wanted to consult the oracle for himself.

He took out the three hexagonal nuts from his pocket, which he had already polished to a smooth, jade-like finish, and gently placed them in his palm.

He slowly adjusted his breathing, merging his mind with the pulse of the planet beneath his feet, a planet that had witnessed tens of thousands of years of human history.

Then, he let go.

Three nuts bounced and spun crisply on the smooth jade surface.

However, a bizarre scene unfolded.

The three metal objects, which should have come to a standstill within seconds, were now being controlled by an invisible force, trembling and swaying wildly and erratically in a way that defied all the laws of physics, like three small boats about to capsize in a raging storm!

Hector's brow furrowed deeply!

He could clearly feel that when his vast divine sense, at the Foundation Establishment stage, explored the mysterious "heavenly secrets," it was as if it had crashed into an invisible yet indestructible wall!

It was neither a shield of some kind of psychic energy, nor an interference of chaos.

It is a kind of... a higher level, almost "law" level of "negation" element, which exists in the things that are being divined.

It was as if the "future" and the "place" he sought to explore existed on the banks of the long river of "fate"!

The three trembling nuts finally stopped swinging, revealing an extremely vague and contradictory hexagram!

Half of the six hexagrams exhibit a state that is... somewhere between "yin" and "yang"!

Hector slowly opened his eyes. He looked at the three nuts lying quietly on the ground, and all the confusion and speculation in his dark pupils had faded away.

He knew that the divination had failed. But this failure itself revealed a more dangerous message than any clear divination result.

"The secrets of heaven are blocked..." he murmured to himself, his gaze deepening. "It seems the Court family's 'Star Chart House' is not a benevolent place. There must be something there... capable of isolating cause and effect, or perhaps, a person?"

He slowly stood up and paced under the ancient tree, suppressing the unease brought by the divination and turning his attention to the practical aspects of the situation.

"Lord Thorne's visit just ended in a dismal fashion, almost humiliatingly. The old noble forces of Terra will not let this go unpunished. Unwilling to directly challenge the Regent's authority, they have instead sent the Navigators, an equally ancient yet relatively independent force, to test the waters..."

His thoughts became clearer and clearer.

"The invitation was given to their private territory, far from the surveillance of the imperial palace. The invitation was ostensibly to 'discuss the future of psionic energy,' a calculated move that no one could refuse. It was more like a... political trap."

He was almost certain that what awaited him was a "dialogue" filled with arrogance, questioning, and traps.

The Court family, representing all the old forces uneasy about the rising star of the "Intercepting Church Academy," will weigh his weight as "Dean" and test the bottom line of him and the Makado behind him.

“If I don’t go, it will be a sign of weakness, playing right into their hands and solidifying the stigma of the ‘Silent Way’ being afraid of challenges. If I go…” Hector’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile, “that will be my first battle to officially plant the banner of the ‘Intercepting Cult Academy’ in the heart of the old forces of Terra…”

He already knew in his heart that this trip was imperative.

However, that vague omen of "danger" derived from the divination was like a cold, venomous snake coiled at the bottom of his heart, still causing him a vague unease. His Taoist intuition told him that things might not be as simple as he had analyzed.

"Political maneuvering requires etiquette. But when facing unknown dangers, it also requires... a sharp sword."

For the next three days, Hector ignored all external disturbances. He immersed himself completely in a state of absolute stillness. He circulated his internal energy again and again, refining every strand of true essence until it was perfectly smooth, and adjusting his essence, energy, and spirit to their peak state since he established his foundation.

He knew that he was about to face a war without bloodshed. But the danger of this war far surpassed that of any real battle.

Three days later, when Karen entered the meditation room again, she saw that her mentor had changed into a simple, well-tailored suit made of the finest black silk. The suit, without any superfluous embellishments, perfectly accentuated his upright and serene demeanor.

At his waist hung a simple and elegant black longsword.

The scabbard was made of an unknown black wood, with a small, faintly visible Tai Chi symbol inlaid with silver wire. At the end of the hilt was a piece of white crystal polished to a smooth, jade-like finish.

That was a unique, almost "ritual weapon" that Mars had created for his "fellow Daoist" when he was forging the Yin-Yang Chainsaw Sword—a Yin-Yang Sword with higher material specifications but without any mechanical structure.

Like... the sword on that earth.

Chapter 116 Myriad Realms Star Chart Museum

Terra's upper suspension zone.

A royal-class hovercar, entirely black and without any emblems, moved silently through the labyrinthine aerial corridors constructed of white marble and gilded sculptures, like a drop of ink blending into the shadows.

Inside the car, Hector Kane sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. His simple black silk suit blended him into the somber atmosphere filled with the smell of old leather and ozone.

His breathing was long and steady, each breath seemingly a microscopic exchange of energy with the planet's heavy gravitational field, which had carried tens of thousands of years of human history.

He was adjusting his breathing, bringing his essence, energy, and spirit to their peak state.

Through the one-way light-transmitting armored glass of the car window, he could see a completely different world outside.

This is the territory of the old Terran nobility, a kingdom suspended in the clouds, far removed from the clamor of the Imperial Palace filled with iron, blood, and order. The architecture here is no longer the war fortresses of the Empire, full of sharp Gothic angles, but rather a replica of the long-forgotten luxurious styles from before the Golden Age of Ancient Terra—Baroque domes, Roman columns, and exotic plants in the gardens, meticulously cultivated with genetic technology, that should not exist in this era.

Everything here is imbued with the weight of history, yet it also exudes an undeniable sense of decay stemming from stagnation.

Hector's aura-gazing technique revealed a tapestry of contradictions and conflicts within this realm steeped in the past authority. He saw that while the magnificent manors were still shrouded in the pale golden aura of authority representing family glory, the interior of that golden light had long been corroded by a stagnant, insidious, and decaying aura of gray-black decay.

These ancient families are like giant trees whose hearts have long been hollowed out. Although they still have lush branches and leaves on the outside, they will collapse with just a strong enough storm.

It seems the Seed Project isn't just about spreading seeds outwards. Hector murmured to himself, "Terra, this most fertile soil, also needs a complete overhaul."

The hovercar slowly slowed down and finally stopped in front of a spire that was taller and more solitary than all the surrounding buildings.

This is the Traveler's Summit, the hereditary territory of the Cort family, the navigators and pathfinders, in Terra.

The architectural style of this spire is completely out of place with all the surrounding aristocratic estates. It is not constructed of marble or gold, but of a black crystal that resembles a frozen, deep starry sky.

The surface of that crystal was not smooth, but covered with countless non-Euclidean geometric patterns, twisted like a madman's dream. It had no windows, no balcony, but was like a huge, exotic, and mysterious black spike, silently and proudly piercing the sky of Terra.

It doesn't belong here; it seems to come from another universe.

As Hector stepped out of the carriage, led by the equally silent mortal servant sent by the Court family, a chilling aura, imbued with strange laws, rushed towards him. He could clearly feel that the faint resonance between himself and Terra's omnipresent gravitational field was being forcibly distorted here by an invisible force.

"Welcome, Dean Kane."

An elderly man, who had been waiting at the spire's entrance, bowed deeply to him. He wore a magnificent robe embroidered with the Court family's three-eyed crest, and his face was covered with deep wrinkles like those of a dried-up riverbed. But his eyes remained bright and sharp, filled with the penetrating wisdom of a navigator.

However, under Hector's aura-gazing technique, he saw a completely different scene. He saw that the life force emanating from this seemingly respectful old man was so faint, like a candle flickering in the wind. But beneath that faint life force lurked a vast, ancient, and deeply purple cursed aura, like a spiderweb, imbued with the meaning of bloodline and inheritance. That aura was greedily and constantly draining his life force.

“I am Casimir, chief advisor to Chief Orionus,” the old man introduced himself. His voice was hoarse, yet carried an ancient, courtly elegance. “The chief has been waiting for you at the Myriad Worlds Star Chart Pavilion for some time. Please follow me.”

Hector nodded calmly and followed him into the black spire filled with unknowns and dangers.

The interior of the spire was even more bizarre and fantastical than he had imagined.

There were no corridors, no stairs. They seemed to have stepped directly into a labyrinth constructed of light, shadow, and illusion. Beneath their feet lay a floor as black as an abyss, reflecting the stars. Above and all around them, countless ribbons of energy, like galaxies, flowed slowly. With each breath, the surrounding scenery underwent subtle changes, as if the entire interior space of the spire was breathing eternally in a non-linear fashion.

This place seems to be a kind of gap between reality and subspace.

Hector's heart grew increasingly calm.

The silent heart in his chest, the heart of an emperor, was like an unyielding fortress, silently shutting out all eyes that tried to pry into his destiny.

Finally, they arrived at a huge archway made of pure, liquid starlight.

“The patriarch is inside.” Kazimir bowed again. “Please forgive me for not being able to accompany you inside. That is the most sacred forbidden area of ​​the Court family, and only the most distinguished guests and those with Court blood may set foot there.”

Hector didn't speak, but calmly stepped into the light curtain.

After a slight, dizzying sensation, like crossing the surface of water, the view before me suddenly opened up.

He seemed to be standing at the center of the universe.

This is the Myriad Worlds Star Chart Museum. A breathtaking marvel that encompasses the entire Milky Way galaxy.

Beneath his feet was a circular platform made of transparent crystal, suspended in the void. Below the platform lay a bottomless, true interstellar vacuum. Around and above the platform were countless real stars, slowly rotating and emitting a soft glow.

This is not a holographic projection.

This is reality.

It was the Navigator family who, using some long-lost, terrifying technology from the dark age of science, forcibly folded a piece of real space into this small spire.

Chapter 117 To Enjoy Alone or for the Public Good

This is a living, breathing specimen of the universe.

In the center of that dazzling sea of ​​stars, a tall, ancient figure stood with his back to him, leaning against the railing.

He wore a deep purple robe that was more magnificent and ancient than that of ordinary nobles, with intricate, mysterious patterns resembling star trails embroidered on it with silver thread.

His body was somewhat hunched due to the constant mutation of his genes, but his very existence exuded a tremendous power belonging to his bloodline.

He is Orionus Court, the current patriarch of the Court family, known as the "Pathfinders," and a member of the Navis Nobilite High Council.

"Welcome, 'Walker of the Way' from Terra."

Orionus slowly turned around, his voice not traveling through the air, but resounding directly in Hector's mind. His voice was filled with the vicissitudes of time, yet possessed a sharpness that could pierce the very soul.

Hector finally saw his face clearly.

It was a face that was difficult to define as "human".

His skin, due to continuous genetic mutations, had a sickly pale color, covered with pale purple veins resembling a spider web.

His facial features have begun to shrink and deform, as if they are being slowly "melted" back into the most primitive genetic soup by an invisible force.

But the huge, black gem-like third "Navigator's Eye" located right in the center of his forehead shone with an astonishing light!

In those eyes, there were no pupils, only a deep, slowly rotating nebula that seemed to contain all the secrets of the entire subspace! It was as if it were the only deity in this temple.

"Please forgive my rudeness." Orionus's voice rang out again in Hector's mind. "For those of us who gaze at the 'sea' year after year, language is a superfluous tool, full of misunderstandings, unless ordinary people are present."

He slowly walked towards Hector, his shrunken, human eyes fixed on him, filled with a strange longing.

"I have been here for a long time."

Hector calmly returned the greeting. His "immovable as a mountain" state of mind had already been activated to its fullest extent, completely dissolving the spiritual energy fluctuations that the other party inadvertently emitted, which were enough to drive mortals mad.

"A salute to you, great 'Pathfinder'. I am deeply honored by your invitation."

“Honor? No, child.” A self-deprecating smile appeared on Orionus’s face. “This is not an honor. This is… a plea for help.”