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

Hector looked up at Terra's leaden sky.

He knew that "Shadow Master" was right.

A storm that will sweep across the galaxy is quietly brewing.

He and his Jiejiao Academy were already in the eye of the storm.

Chapter 207 The Wind Rises in the Milky Way

The distant echoes are quietly playing in every corner of the Milky Way.

Mars. The Data Sanctuary.

Inside the cold, magnificent sanctuary, only countless indicator lights flashed monotonously, and the cooling system emitted a low hum, like the breathing of a giant.

General Kelbo Hall, the forging general, is hovering above his anti-gravity throne.

His mechanical crystal mirror was playing the scene of the forty-two people undergoing tribulation simultaneously in the training ground at a speed of one-thousandth.

Each jump in energy reading.

Each pulse of the psionic tide.

Dramatic changes in the physical parameters of each cultivator.

All the data transformed into a waterfall of binary data, surging, calculating, and analyzing wildly within the core of his mind.

Ultimately, all the analysis pointed to a result that he could neither understand nor accept.

"Eighty-four percent..."

A cold, emotionless synthesized voice came from his microphone.

This number, like an uncalculated logical singularity, violently impacted his cognition, which had long been integrated with mechanics.

This... violates the universal truths established by the God of Myriad Machines.

Subspace is entropy-increasing, chaotic, and unpredictable. This is an ironclad law that has been etched into the deepest doctrines of Mechanics after tens of thousands of years of observation and research.

Any attempt to exploit it stably will inevitably lead to disastrous consequences.

But Hector Kane, and his so-called "way of silence," seemed to have found a way to transform "chaos" into "order."

His sense of rejection and wariness did not disappear in the slightest because of the emperor's decree.

On the contrary, this made him even more vigilant.

As the co-director of the Psionic Political Department, he knew that after witnessing this "miracle," it was no longer realistic to simply define the Jiejiao Academy as a "heretic" and eradicate it.

The empire's nobles and generals needed this power.

Therefore, he must respond in a more "reasonable" and "logical" way.

He suppressed the almost emotional turmoil caused by the "unknown" and chose the approach most befitting his identity.

He established communication links throughout Mars.

"In the name of the Forging General and the Joint Director of the Psionic Political Department, I hereby issue the 'Alpha-class' order."

His voice echoed throughout every foundry and every data room on Mars.

"Initiate a Level 1 technical security assessment of the 'Silent Way' psionic system."

"I need an irrefutable, logically sound analysis report based on the doctrines of the Omniscient God, concerning its energy conversion model, mental stability structure, and long-term genetic contamination risks."

"The Sage... Alkan will serve as the technical representative for Mars and will cooperate fully with this review."

The order has been issued.

Kelbo Hall slowly turned off the image in front of him.

In his crystal mirror, Hector's serene face flashed one last time.

He began to try to understand and accept Hector's ideas, but in a Martian way!

Non-logical information must be parsed.

What is uncontrollable must be brought under control.

Threatened items must be...formatted.

This is the logic of the Mechanicus.

......

Colchis. The City of the Holy Word.

In the dark, deep underground chamber, the air was filled with a cloying, sweet smell, a mixture of dried blood and spoiled incense.

The walls were covered with blasphemous, writhing runes. Each stroke seemed like a rift leading to some mad dimension, radiating malice that withered the souls of mortals.

The first priest, Eribas, was kneeling before an altar made of human skin and bones.

Before him floated a Mystic Mirror composed of chaotic energy.

The mirror was playing a video of Terra's grand celebration.

He looked at the monks bathed in the "pure light," at the serene and resolute expressions on their faces, and at Hector Kane's compassionate and righteous demeanor as a "Dao Lord."

Irebas showed neither anger nor surprise.

A venomous, lecherous smile slowly spread across his face.

He didn't care how many mortals successfully wielded the power.

What he cared about was Hector Kane, this "heretic" who appeared out of nowhere, proving to the entire galaxy in the most straightforward and powerful way:

Mortals can do so without going through the chaotic gods, without offering their faith, and without paying a "price".

It can obtain powerful, stable, and "pure" power on its own.

This is the most vicious and fundamental betrayal of him and the "original truth" that the entire Legion of Word Bearers believed in!

The truth of the universe is struggle and exchange! Power always comes from the "gift" of a higher being!

This Hector is trying to... steal the fruit that belongs to the gods!

"How arrogant..."

Irebas let out a hoarse whisper, a sound that seemed to be a chorus of countless wronged souls.

"You think you've found a shortcut? You think you can bypass that eternal truth?"

He slowly picked up a ceremonial dagger made of obsidian from the altar.

He then picked up a piece of parchment made from the skin of a slave.

Above, written in blood—

"Naive heretics..."

He raised the dagger, his face displaying a morbid fanaticism and devotion.

"You'll understand soon enough."

"All gifts that are not offered in sacrifice..."

"Pfft——!"

He plunged the sharp dagger fiercely into the parchment bearing Hector's name!

A drop of black, writhing blood seeped from the tip of the knife, completely staining that name.

"...The price has already been set in secret."

......

The Ship of Pride. The Gene Lab.

Unlike the religiously gloomy Colchis, this is a scientific, bright, but far more insane hell.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of chemicals, burnt protein, and strong ozone.

Countless enormous culture tanks, filled with murky liquid, stood in rows. Inside, various indescribable "failures" were soaking, convulsing in agony.

The wails, screams, and clanging of metal blended into a never-ending symphony of "creation."

Chief Pharmacist Fabius Bayer, like a child who has just received a new toy, practically lay face down in front of the Xuan Guang Mirror.

He wasn't wearing the iconic human skin mask on his face.

On that face covered with sutures and metal implants, a pair of eyes shone with an unprecedented, almost obsessive, fanatical light!

He completely ignored Hector's metaphysical pronouncements about "mind," "Tao," and "realm," which he considered utter nonsense.

What he saw was something more fundamental!

It's a biological... ultimate miracle!

A stable, controllable, efficient, and virtually rejection-free...

"A Plan for Humanity's Dimensional Advancement!"

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!!"

He pointed at a cultivator in the picture who was undergoing tribulation and whose body was enveloped in spiritual light, and let out a scream that was almost deafening as he looked at a trembling servant beside him!

"Do you see that perfect gene expression?! His mitochondria are outputting energy with unprecedented efficiency! His neural synapses are undergoing rapid self-optimization! His cells have achieved a dynamic, upward balance between collapse and reorganization!"

"This is not witchcraft! This is...this is evolution!"

Fabius's breathing became extremely heavy, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“We need a sample! A living Foundation Establishment cultivator! Immediately! Right now!”

He grabbed the servant by the collar and roared at him, almost face to face.

"No...no! One is not enough! A regular sample only lets me see the 'result,' not the 'process'!"

His gaze was fixed intently on the calm, godlike figure in the center of the image.

Hector Kane.

"I want him!"

Fabius's voice suddenly became hoarse and greedy, like a dying traveler in the desert who has seen an oasis.

"I want that 'Dao Lord'!"

"I want to dissect him myself!"

"I'm going to put that damned so-called 'golden elixir' under a microscope and analyze it cell by cell!"

"I need to find out what's hidden deep within his genetic sequence..."

"...The blueprint to godhood!"

......

Barbarossa. Flagship "Perseverance".

Mortarion, the Lord of Death, sat silently on his throne made of steel and bone.

An encrypted report about the Terra Intercepting Church had just been presented to him.

He remained expressionless from beginning to end.

Finally, behind his pale, plague-like mask, came a short, mocking laugh filled with utter loathing.

He uttered the word as if it were something filthy and disgusting.

"It has changed its name and its robes, but its essence remains witchcraft."

He thought of his foster father, corrupted by chaos, and of the tyrants in Barbaros who enslaved their people with witchcraft.

He harbored the deepest, most soul-deep hatred for psychic powers and everything in the warp.

"A plague enclosed by dikes will only make the eventual flood more deadly."

He stood up, and behind him, the massive war scythe "Silence" emitted a humming sound, yearning for slaughter.

"Wait, then."

“I will personally smash every bone in these new wizards.”

......