Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 468 The Entire Big Event
Having dealt with her personal emotional issues, Chen Xi calmed her chaotic thoughts and finally refocused her attention on the 40K matter.

But he was not in a hurry to return to that war-torn world.

The phone screen lights up, and a logistics information message shows that the item has been signed for.

He got up and went out, with a clear goal—an important package awaiting him.

At the entrance of the community's express delivery station, a huge object stands out conspicuously.

It was a corrugated cardboard box, about a meter square, with sharp edges and a dusty gray body that stood out like a silent behemoth among the many small packages.

The oppressive feeling brought about by its size led it to be placed alone on the open ground outside the post station.

"Mr. Chen, your package is really big!" Neighbor Liu Yi had just finished picking up his own small package when he saw the huge box. He stopped in surprise and went over to lend a hand without saying a word.

It took the two of them working together to move the heavy box onto the trolley that Chen Xi had brought.

"I asked a friend to order a batch of things, and there was quite a lot of them. I didn't expect him to send them all in one box." Chen Xi held the edge of the box, revealing a slightly troubled smile, as if she was really bothered by the size and weight.

The difficulty of moving things was merely a superficial issue for him.

An invisible force flowed silently through his fingertips; psionic energy, like the most docile servant, easily lifted most of the box's weight, making it feel as light as a feather.

With his current psychic abilities, it wouldn't be difficult for him to briefly levitate a steel warship, but he still sincerely thanked Liu Yi for his help.

Take the box home and remove the sealing tape.

Inside, eighteen smaller refill boxes were neatly stacked, arranged in two layers, nine boxes on each layer.

Looking at these neatly arranged boxes, a sense of genuine comfort welled up from the bottom of Chen Xi's heart.

His lips unconsciously curled up into a mischievous grin, a smile tinged with anticipation and a hint of playful mischief—the prelude to the big show was just around the corner.

He carefully inspected each of the repackaged boxes, confirming that the packaging was intact and the contents were undamaged.

After a moment's thought, he did not take everything out of the boxes.

Only one was selected, and the box clearly bears the Roman numeral "XVI".

The remaining boxes were resealed and temporarily stored in his dedicated model room, which was filled with models, tools, and paint.

As for the box marked "XVI", Chen Xi carefully took out the item inside. The object gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the light.

Without examining it closely, he simply placed it as a key "chess piece" into the specially made armory box in the corner of the room.
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When Chen Xi's consciousness descended upon the 40K world again, he did not possess the usual governor chess piece, but instead chose a lieutenant of the Ash Knights.

At this moment, he was in the Ash Knights' chapter monastery deep within the gas giant planet Rostov IV.

This fortress monastery is disguised as an unassuming gas collection and refining station, with its exterior outlined by rough metal pipes and roaring giant distillation towers.

However, in the inner core compartment where the adjutant was located, huge curved observation windows replaced the heavy industrial walls, presenting the breathtaking cosmic panorama outside without reservation.

Through the thick reinforced glass, one can see the spectacular sight of a constantly churning gas giant.

Below, an endless "ocean" of liquid metallic hydrogen surges and churns, while bands of clouds, interwoven with sulfur yellow and rust red, resemble paint splashed freely by a cosmic master, rushing, entwining, and reshaping at a dazzling speed.

Enormous storms of ammonia ice crystals were formed within them, swirling and stretching for thousands of kilometers, their arms glowing with a cold, bluish-white light.

Each violent churning of the clouds unleashed terrifying lightning powerful enough to tear a starship apart—these raging bolts, like the pulse of the universe itself, exploded deep within the thick clouds, briefly illuminating the vast, dark, and mysteriously purplish vortex below. The ceaseless roar of thunder permeated the ship's structure, forming a deep and enduring background hum, constantly reminding those present that they were suspended above a world filled with boundless energy and primal power.

And standing before this enormous window that reflects the vastness and fury of the universe is an exceptionally tall woman.

Even by the standards of the original Astartes, she could still be described as "tall".

She possessed an extraordinary, near-perfect body proportion, and her skin had a healthy wheat hue that, under the ever-changing light from outside the window—sometimes pale, sometimes scarlet—gave off an inhuman, metallic, cold sheen.

Her thick, jet-black hair was skillfully braided into a thick plait, cascading down to her broad yet smooth shoulders, with a few unruly strands brushing against her angular yet feminine face.

Most striking were his deep eyes, the pupils of which were amber-gold, like molten gold, and were now flashing with a sharp and complex light, reflecting the raging thunder outside the window.

She was wearing a set of ivory-white Terminator power armor tailored to her, with sleek and elegant lines that were still full of power.

The armor shimmered with a mother-of-pearl-like sheen, and the shoulder and breastplates were engraved with a majestic eagle emblem and the Eye of Horus.

A huge wolf pelt, its fur as silvery-grey as moonlight, draped over her broad shoulders, silently telling a hunting legend from a distant world.

She wore an antique-looking yet sharp ceremonial dagger at her waist, with a miniature wolf head emblem inlaid at the top of the ebony hilt.

Two weapons stand out the most:

Her left hand held a huge, one-handed powered warhammer with ease.

The hammerhead is not a traditional blunt shape, but is enveloped in a dark blue energy field, accompanied by a deep hum that sounds like the pulse of the earth.

Ancient inscriptions are faintly visible on the hammer handle—this is a meticulously crafted replica of the legendary weapon "Worldbreaker," whose force field core contains terrifying power capable of shattering the very foundations of stars.

Her right hand is adorned with a massive and meticulously crafted power claw—a perfect replica of the "Talon of Horus."

The streamlined silver claws gleamed with a cold light, and a complex energy field generator was cleverly integrated into the elegant wrist guard structure.

Even more chilling is that a uniquely designed Storm Bolt Gun, full of ancient technological feel, is fixed to the armor from the wrist to the knuckles. Two ammunition belts feed it from the right side, silently proclaiming that it is not only a close-combat weapon, but also a deadly long-range weapon.

Without a word, simply standing there, her suffocating presence, emanating from the depths of her blood, was enough to freeze the entire space.

"Should I introduce myself?" the woman asked, staring at the adjutant controlled by Chen Xi. Her voice was deep and magnetic, carrying an undeniable power.

“Although we all know who you are,” Chen Xi looked back at the adjutant through the eyes, earnestly, even with a hint of scrutiny, “I still want to ask: are you clear about your own identity?”

He really wanted to make a big splash, but he didn't want to make a mess of things.

If the powerful being before him had a vague understanding of himself, he would rather terminate the plan immediately.

The woman did not answer immediately.

A complex ripple flickered in the depths of her molten gold eyes—the heavy burden of her vast memories.

After a brief silence, she straightened her back even more, revealing an almost instinctive pride etched deep in her genes: "I am Horus Lupecal, Warmaster of the Empire, Lord of the Sixteenth Legion, Primarch of the Shadowmoon Wolves."

Each title carried weight and authority, as if reliving a glorious but now lost dream.

(End of this chapter)