Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 285 Strengthening Faith
Chen Xi certainly understood the prevailing ruling logic of the empire—to keep the people perpetually busy, perpetually exhausted, and perpetually without the extra energy to think, to question, or to resist.

After all, a body crushed by heavy labor naturally has no energy left to listen to the whispers of chaos or participate in heretical conspiracies.

This method is simple and brutal, yet extremely effective, and the empire has operated in this way for ten thousand years.

But he could never convince himself to accept this blatant exploitation.

The art of ruling should not be merely about treating the people as fuel and squeezing every drop of their blood and sweat dry.

There are many ways to prevent them from opposing you: give them hope so they can have something to look forward to; give them dignity so they can accept the order; even give them moderate entertainment so they can have something to do in their leisure time instead of falling into the temptation of chaos.

Cult members often exploit vulnerabilities—when people are desperate, numb, and without any solace, the whispers of chaos seem especially alluring.

But if their lives are not entirely bleak, if they can enjoy a moment of peace after their work, or even have something to rely on besides faith, then the temptation of evil gods may not be so easily succeeded.

Squeezing the people dry is the laziest and cruelest way to rule. What Chen Xi wants is a world where he can both consolidate his rule and allow his people to live like human beings.

In fact, during the corrupt and dark forty-first millennium, there did exist such a relatively "humane" enclave within the empire's territory.

Although the people there still have to work more than ten hours a day in the noisy factories, they can at least enjoy regular nutritional rations, relatively safe living quarters, and short rest periods each week.

Compared to the endless exploitation of most of the Empire's world, life here is nothing short of a miracle of civilization.

This star system, known as the Ottara 500 Worlds, was once an ideal realm created by Primarch Robert Guilliman.

Even today, ten thousand years after Guilliman fell asleep, the Five Hundred Worlds System collapsed, and the bureaucracy became corrupt and decadent, this star system protected by the Ultramarines still maintains an incredible standard of living.

It's important to understand that the Ultramarines now actually control only a dozen or so core worlds, yet they have to maintain the operation of the largest Space Marine chapter in the entire galaxy.

Despite these extremely difficult circumstances, the living standards of the people of Otramar still far exceed those of the Empire—they not only receive basic medical care, but their offspring even have the opportunity to receive basic education, which is simply a fantasy in other imperial worlds.

Ultimately, it all boils down to one thing: the Ultramarines treat the people of the Empire under their rule as human beings.

This seemingly simple sentence has become a kind of almost lost "art of domination" in the dark forty-first millennium.

While most imperial worlds treat their people as fuel to be consumed at will, the Ultramarines of Altera stubbornly uphold this bottom line—that their subjects at least enjoy basic human dignity.

Chen Xi did not want to be like those cruel planetary governors who treated the people like livestock.

But the Blood Oath Order’s rebellion served as a wake-up call. If even the state religion can breed traitors, then what can truly protect its people from the corruption of chaos?
The governors chose to suppress the people's thoughts with endless labor and fear, which, in a sense, was indeed the simplest and most brutal "epidemic prevention measure".

A soul that has been exploited to the point of losing its ability to think is indeed hard to be tempted by the whispers of chaos.

But Chen Xi could never accept this approach that completely erased humanity.

He had no better solution, so he stubbornly chose the more difficult path: granting his people basic human rights so that, in addition to their arduous labor, they could at least retain a shred of human dignity.

In this dark era, choosing to treat the people as human beings is itself a kind of naive idealism. But Chen Xi would rather bear the risks that come with this naivety than become another tyrant who crushes humanity in the gears.

As for how to resist the erosion of chaos—he chose to leave this problem to the state religion.

This decision, though seemingly simple, embodies a profound understanding of the empire's history.

The rise of the state religion in the M35 era was by no means accidental, but rather an inevitable choice made by the imperial ruling class after learning from bloody lessons.

In that era of religious vacuum, countless worlds were made fertile ground for chaotic whispers precisely because of the lack of a unified ideological guidance.

As an ancient imperial scholar once said, "If the field of thought does not yield ears of wheat, it will surely be overgrown with weeds."

To be fair, the achievements of the national education system in this regard are indeed commendable.

For five thousand years, it was those priests in red robes who preached the Emperor's Word day after day in every Nest City, filling the spiritual void of the people with a unified doctrine.

Imagine if there were no state religion as a spiritual pillar, with the four Warp Gods becoming increasingly active, the Empire would probably have been torn apart by various heresies long ago.

In those worlds corrupted by chaos, the belief system is often the first to collapse.

Of course, the Blood Oath rebellion did expose some of the flaws in the state religion system—excessive dogmatism, confusion in the interpretation of doctrine, and the overly extreme beliefs of some of its branches.

However, its merits outweigh its flaws. With proper management, the state education system remains the most effective firewall against chaos.

After all, a soul that devoutly believes in the Emperor is far more resistant to the erosion of the Warp than any physical defense.

When Chen Xi told the local bishop about this idea, a look of relief flashed in the eyes of the white-haired old man.

“Your Excellency, you have made a wise choice.” He stroked the emblem of the state religion on his chest and said, “Faith is like the sun; it needs to shine evenly on every corner.”

Soon, a large number of itinerant priests dressed in simple robes were dispatched to every block of Rostov II.

They preached their doctrines during factory breaks, distributed scriptures in slums, and even discussed the true meaning of faith with workers in taverns.

These pastors tirelessly emphasized a core concept: only the true faith of the state religion is the path to salvation, and any other form of worship is heresy leading to destruction.

This gentle yet firm infiltration of faith is far more effective at penetrating people's hearts than oppressive rule.

Chen Xi noticed that as the pastors' activities deepened, the mysterious small gatherings in the neighborhood gradually disappeared, and the workers' conversations during their leisure time changed from various conspiracy theories to heated discussions on doctrine.

Perhaps this is the most effective way to combat chaos—not by suppressing thought with fear, but by enriching people's hearts with a stronger faith.

(End of this chapter)