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

“This is…” Jaha’s pupils suddenly contracted.

Chapter 25 The Heart-Clearing Pill (Bonus Chapter 4)

"This is a 'heart-clearing pill'."

Hector's voice, though weak, was full of strength: "The first batch, a total of thirty-six."

He offered no further explanation, but simply held the crystal container and, in an unquestionable tone, said to the technical sergeant in front of the control panel, "Open the gate."

"Are you insane?" a company commander couldn't help but shout angrily. "The chaotic energy inside is enough to tear your mortal soul to shreds in an instant!"

"Whether my 'Tao' is an empty philosophy can only be proven in the place closest to the 'Tao'." Hector's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable resolve. "If I fail, I will turn to ashes along with these thousands of sinners to atone for my 'incompetence.' But if... I succeed?"

He looked around, his dark pupils gleaming with wisdom and confidence.

"You will witness firsthand how a completely new path, capable of resisting the corruption of chaos, was born."

Jaha stared intently at Hector, trying to find a trace of bluff in the man's face. But he failed. All he saw was absolute, inexplicable confidence.

A tremendous temptation arose in his heart.

If this mortal truly dies inside, that would undoubtedly be the best outcome. He would prove his "heretic" status in the most direct and tragic way, and Lord Erebas's prestige would be further solidified.

What if... just maybe... he really did create a miracle?

Then I will be the first witness to this miracle.

"...Open the gates." In the end, Jaha's heart, consumed by ambition and curiosity, overcame his caution. He gave the order into the communicator.

With a sickening scraping sound, the heavy, adamantly solidified metal gate slowly rose, opening a crack just wide enough for one person to pass through. A stench of decay and despair instantly flooded the observation room.

Without the slightest hesitation, Hector, amidst the shocked gazes of the Space Marines, alone, carrying the box of pills, stepped into that... living hell.

The moment he stepped into the quarantine zone, it was as if he had fallen from the real world into Nurgle's Garden.

Countless whispers filled with "love" and "care," like thick syrup, instantly enveloped his soul, attempting to drag him into that eternally decaying "rebirth."

"Attain utmost emptiness, and hold fast to stillness."

Hector silently chanted in his mind, and his "silent domain" instantly opened, like an invisible, absolutely smooth raincoat, shutting out all the foul whispers.

He ignored the frenzied infected people surrounding him. His gaze swept quickly through the crowd, finally settling on the figure he had already "locked on" with his psychic powers—the one with the weakest aura and closest to the "end of life."

That was the first elderly slave laborer to fall ill. At this moment, he had completely become a bloated, swollen vessel of flesh and blood, with only his last breath left, uttering unconscious murmurs of praise for his "benevolent father" in his throat.

Hector pushed through the crowd, came to him, knelt down, pried open his already rotting mouth, and put in a warm "Heart-Cleansing Pill".

A miracle occurred, right before everyone's eyes.

The moment the elixir entered the body, the crystal "guide" that carried the Sage Alkan's "heart of seeking solutions" suddenly burst forth with a dazzling blue light, full of logic and order! Immediately afterwards, the true essence of "ruler" righteousness, which Hector had infused into the elixir, was like a thousand troops that had heard a command, instantly forming an invisible army formation full of "vitality" and "purification" with that blue light as its core!

A pure, white "qi" suddenly burst forth from the slave laborer's body! Immediately afterward, countless gray-green "black qi" filled with the aura of decay, like venomous snakes being scorched by a raging fire, were forced out from his seven orifices with silent screams, and then dissipated into the air!

The slave laborer's body trembled violently. His swollen skin receded at a visible speed, returning to its normal color. The chaotic, tainted "compassion" belonging to Nerghana was completely dispelled from his cloudy eyes, replaced by a long-lost clarity belonging to mortals!

"I...I'm still alive..." He looked at his hands in disbelief, his voice filled with the ecstatic joy of surviving a catastrophe.

This scene was like a nuclear bomb dropped into a calm lake, instantly detonating the entire quarantine zone!

Those infected who were originally immersed in the illusion of "happiness" finally overwhelmed the whispers of chaos the moment they saw their companions being "cured"!

"Help me!" "Me too! Give me that medicine!" "I don't want to die! I don't want to become a monster!"

Thousands of infected people, like believers who had seen a savior, rushed toward Hector frantically and recklessly! They stretched out their swollen, rotting hands, their eyes filled with pleading and hope!

In the observation room, Jaha's face turned deathly pale. He knew it was over. This mortal, even if he wasn't killed by the plague, would be trampled into mincemeat by these thousands of crazed mortals!

However, Hector showed no fear whatsoever in the face of the surging crowd.

He simply and calmly raised the crystal container holding the remaining thirty-five pills high in his hand.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear and reached everyone's ears.

An invisible domain, filled with "order" and "peace," instantly spread out from him! The fanatical, chaotic thoughts of all the infected who rushed towards him miraculously subsided under the soothing power of this force. They stopped in their tracks, their eyes still filled with longing, but no longer frantic. Instead, like believers awaiting divine guidance, they quietly gazed up at him.

"The elixir is finite, and all beings suffer." Hector's voice carried a compassionate tone, as if he were saving all living beings. "However, the Great Way is formless, yet it benefits all things. Today, I will use this elixir to create a pool of sweet spring water, to benefit all living beings!"

After saying that, he poured all the remaining true essence he had just recovered into the crystal container without reservation!

“Buzz——!!!”

The thirty-five "Heart-Clearing Pills," under the catalysis of that pure true essence, instantly melted and vaporized, turning into a cloud of... a thick, milky white mist radiating vitality!

Hector flicked his wrist, and the cloud of mist, like a living dragon, soared into the sky and exploded with a roar beneath the filthy dome of the quarantine zone!

"boom--!!!"

There was no explosion, no shock wave.

That cloud of mist transformed into billions of points of light—more dazzling than stars, purer than morning dew, and brimming with the breath of life—a rain of light!

That was a... life-purifying rain!

The rain of light fell, sprinkling upon each of the infected. The points of light ignored their rotting clothes and swollen skin, merging directly into their bodies and seeping into their souls.

In an instant, white vapor rose and black vapor spread throughout the entire quarantine zone!

Screams, praises, cries, cheers... all intertwined to form a magnificent symphony called "Rebirth"!

Under this miraculous rain of light, thousands of mortal auxiliary soldiers were all freed from Nurgle's corruption and regained their sanity!

The observation room was already deathly silent.

Jaha, and the Space Marines behind him, stared blankly, as if petrified, at the miraculous scene unfolding beneath the crystal glass. Their minds had completely shut down.

What did they see?

A mortal, in a way they couldn't comprehend, created a "medicine" they couldn't understand, and then cured an ultimate plague originating from an evil god that even their great Space Marines couldn't cure?

This...this is no longer "philosophy".

This... is a "miracle" capable of overturning the entire empire's medical and biochemical systems!

When the golden gates of the quarantine zone slowly rose again, what appeared before everyone was no longer hell, but a land... reborn.

The thousands of mortal auxiliary soldiers, though still weak, radiated the ecstatic joy of surviving a catastrophe. They spontaneously knelt behind Hector, gazing up at him with the most devout eyes, as if looking at a savior.

Hector's face was deathly pale, and his body swayed precariously, barely able to stand by sheer willpower.

Just then, a middle-aged man who had also been cured and appeared to be a sergeant major quickly walked to his side and supported him with his still robust body.

“Thank you, sir.” The sergeant’s voice trembled slightly with emotion. “You saved all of our lives. My name is Barrow, acting commander of the 7th Auxiliary Regiment on the lower deck.”

"It was nothing," Hector smiled weakly.

“No, sir.” Barrow’s face showed utmost reverence. “I have never seen… a ‘miracle’ like yours. But, sir, I have a question.”

“At the height of that plague,” a hint of confusion and admiration flashed in Barrow’s eyes, “almost all of us were caught in that… illusion of ‘happiness.’ Only a small group of people, who were infected just like us, had a will as strong as steel that never yielded. They never prayed, never cried out, they just… silently stared at us with their eyes, as if they were looking at a group of… traitors.”

Hector's heart skipped a beat.

Chapter 26 Rust Removal and Dao Guardian (5 Extra Chapters)

"who are they?"

“They…” A complex expression appeared on Barrow’s face. “They are ‘orphans.’ A group of survivors from Monakia. Our Lord was merciful and brought them out of that ruin. But their faith died along with that city. They didn’t believe in any god, only in themselves. They… were a group of empty shells without souls.”

Hector's gaze passed through the crowd kneeling on the ground, like a surging tide, and landed on the deepest corner of the quarantine zone.

There, the twenty or thirty "orphans," equally frail yet still struggling to stand, remained silent. They didn't kneel like the others, nor did they cheer. They simply looked at themselves from afar with eyes filled with scrutiny, inquiry, and a hint of... a bewilderment about the "miracle" hidden beneath their numbness, a look they themselves were unaware of.

They were like a pack of lone wolves abandoned by the world, completely out of place in the grateful atmosphere around them.

Hector pushed away Barrow's support and, with unsteady yet incredibly firm steps, walked slowly through the crowd that had automatically parted to make way for him, toward that corner.

When he pushed through the crowd and stood before the group of survivors, they finally reacted. They slowly raised their heads, their eyes, long since devoid of any life, like those of dead fish, staring blankly at this uninvited guest. In their eyes, there was no curiosity, no hope, only a deep-seated...repulsion towards all outsiders.

"Your city is beautiful."

Hector spoke. His first words surprised everyone.

The survivors' bodies trembled almost imperceptibly. That name was the deepest and most painful taboo in their hearts.

“Your faith is very pure,” Hector continued, his voice carrying a sincerity that resonated with everyone. “You have given everything for your god. And your god has responded with heavenly fire and thunder.”

"Do you hate him?" he asked calmly.

No one answered. But in those twenty or thirty pairs of lifeless eyes, a wisp of... black, sharp as a poisoned dagger, ignited.

That flame is called "Hatred".

“Hate is right.” Hector nodded, as if affirming a truth, “because your love is real. The deeper the love, the deeper the hate. This is the fairest law of the universe.”

He didn't try to persuade or preach. He simply...acknowledged the "legitimacy" of their hatred.

This simple sentence was like a heavy hammer, shattering the hard, icy shell that had enveloped these orphans for years.

A middle-aged man, who appeared to be the leader and had a gruesome scar on his face, finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, like two pieces of rusty metal rubbing against each other.

"...What do you know? You...lackey from Terra."

“I don’t understand,” Hector readily admitted. “I’ve never seen your city, nor have I experienced your suffering. But I do understand… this flame.”

He reached out his hand, and this time, his fingertips did not gather true energy, but simply and calmly pointed to the burning, black fire of hatred in their hearts.

"This flame is burning your souls, isn't it? It keeps you restless day and night, and makes you lose interest in everything. It is devouring you, turning you into the kind of monster you hate, the kind that only knows destruction."

The survivors fell silent. Because what Hector said was true.

"Do you want revenge?" Hector asked.

“Revenge?” The leader let out a self-deprecating, owl-like dry laugh. “Revenge against whom? Against the Ultramarines? Or against…the one on the throne? We are just mortals, what do we have to take revenge with?”

"So, you're prepared to be swallowed up by a boring plague here, and then turn to ashes along with your pent-up hatred?" Hector's tone took on a stern hue.

"Is this the fate that Monakia's last warriors chose for their city?"

These words, like a red-hot branding iron, were fiercely seared into the hearts of every orphan!

"What else can we do!" a young orphan finally cried out, his voice trembling with sobs.

“Use this flame to forge yourselves.” Hector’s voice returned to its calm tone, yet carried a power capable of splitting mountains and shattering rocks. “You cannot use it to burn the throne, for that is too far away. But you can use it to forge yourselves.”

"Turn this outward, vengeful flame into your hearts. Use this scorching energy to temper your bodies and forge your will. Let every breath carry the burning heat of Monakia; let every heartbeat become the resounding war drum of a million restless souls!"

His voice grew increasingly impassioned, like a vow before battle!

"Your faith is dead. Your homeland is gone. You have nothing left but this hatred. Very well! Let this hatred become your new faith! Let this suffering become your new home!"

"The purpose of your cultivation is no longer to sacrifice to the gods, nor to obtain eternal life! The sole purpose of your cultivation is to forge yourselves into the strongest, coldest, and most ruthless shield! A shield that can protect the other innocent beings in this universe from the merciless barrage of the 'gods'!"

"Your strength will not be for conquest, but for protection!"

"You will forge a shield for all living beings with my own pain! You will make the heaviest vow—"

Hector's voice resounded throughout the entire quarantine zone at that moment, and was even clearly transmitted back to the observation room above via the communicator.

"—Never let the tragedy of Monaco be repeated in any other world!"

The whole world seemed to have fallen silent.

The twenty or thirty orphans of Monakia stared blankly at the mortal before them. In their long-dead eyes, the wisp of black hatred had undergone a strange transformation at this moment.

It was no longer a chaotic, outward-burning flame of destruction. It began... to contract inward, to condense, to refine.

It became deeper, colder, and more...pure.

"Follow me."

Hector looked at them firmly. “I cannot save you immediately as I saved this plague. But I can guide you and save yourselves.”

The scarred chieftain stared intently at Hector, his body trembling violently with excitement. For a long, long time.

He slowly knelt on one knee.

Then came the second, the third...

In the end, all the orphans from the perfect city offered their long-dead loyalty to this mortal who had given "meaning" to their hatred.

"Purification process... has been paused." In the observation room, Jahana's voice, filled with shock and disbelief, rang out through the communicator.

Hector ignored them. He simply looked at the kneeling warriors of the future and sighed softly. Subduing these survivors from the City of Perfection was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, but a carefully considered move he had made before boarding the "Words of Loyalty."

In Makado's archives, he had already noticed this group of "special" mortal auxiliary troops. They were a thorn in Logar's side that he could not remove, and an extremely unstable factor within the Legion of the Word Bearers. Their very existence was a silent indictment of Logar's past beliefs; their hatred, like mold lurking in a seed, if not eradicated in time, would sooner or later become the most deadly weapon that Eribas could use at the crucial moment when Logar was rebuilding his Dao heart.