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

He finally realized that his mistake was forcing the application. What he needed to do was not to transform, but to refine.

Using his own methods as a furnace, the Imperial Guard's tactics as charcoal, and countless failures as fuel, he forged a battle strategy that belonged only to him.

He stood up and slowly assumed the starting stance of Tai Chi on the open platform. He transformed the breath of the Imperial Guards into a gust of wind, the true energy of the Small Heavenly Circuit into a furnace fire, and the fierce and still into one, and the killing and purification into two extremes. He was no longer imitating, but creating.

"From mastering the moves, one gradually understands the power; from understanding the power, one ascends to the realm of enlightenment."

When Aurelius stepped onto the platform again one day, he no longer saw the boy who, though quick-witted, was full of flaws.

What he saw was a "circle".

A circle centered on Hector, composed of intangible "qi" (vital energy), embodying harmony and resilience.

“Come on, instructor.” Hector opened his eyes and gestured for him to come.

For the first time, genuine surprise appeared in Aurelius's eyes. Without uttering a word, he transformed into a golden lightning bolt and unleashed a punch.

This time, however, Hector did not try to block the shot.

His movements were like willow branches in the wind; at the instant the fist struck, he slightly turned his body, avoiding the blow at an elusive angle. His arm moved smoothly, gently guiding and catching the opponent.

Martial arts technique – “Flowing Water”.

Marcus Aurelius's fist was a pure, straight line, symbolizing absolute power and efficiency. Hector's hands, in that instant, transformed into an invisible vortex.

The left hand, like winding silk, vibrates at a subtle frequency at the moment of contact, dissolving the kinetic energy that would have shattered steel layer by layer; the right hand, like pushing, gently deflects the trajectory just as the old force is about to run out and the new force has not yet been generated.

The once unstoppable straight line has now shifted.

Chapter 48 The Heart of Silence

Aurelius felt as if his power, enough to smash through mountains, had been thrown into a swirling nebula and lost its footing! Instead of harming his opponent, the power was drawn by a subtle "gravity" and uncontrollably blasted into the void outside the platform!

"boom--!!!"

With a deafening roar, a torrent of golden energy grazed Hector's body and slammed into a distant pillar of light, causing the crystal prism that sealed the martial arts memories of a lost civilization to tremble violently!

Marcus Aurelius staggered almost imperceptibly due to the excessive force he exerted.

He slowly withdrew his fist, turned around, and stared at Hector with his eyes, which were as cold as a lake. His gaze revealed an unprecedentedly complex emotion: shock, confusion, and a hint of undisguised...appreciation.

He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, it only turned into a low, somber comment.

"...You taught steel to breathe."

Marcus Aurelius looked at Hector, a look of mixed relief and hidden pain flashing across his calm eyes.

He thought of those departed "children," of their fighting style—sharp as a drawn sword, yet equally hard and fragile. If they had learned to let their steel... breathe back then, perhaps those two suspended amulets would still have owners today.

Over the next five months, this "test" gradually evolved into a... "debate".

Marcus Aurelius, this living legend, set aside his "instructor" persona and communicated with Hector as an almost equal "fellow traveler." He shared the core concepts of "protection," "sacrifice," and "loyalty" from the Imperial Guard's tactics with Hector without reservation; and Hector, in turn, reciprocated with this ancient warrior his principles of balance—"yin and yang," "strength and gentleness," and "movement and stillness."

The six-month period passed in the blink of an eye.

In the final simulated battle, Hector faced three fighter servants set to "limit" mode by Aurelius, all alone.

The moment the alarm sounded, the heavy bomb guns of the three machine guns simultaneously unleashed tongues of fire, weaving a web of death. However, Hector's figure seemed to blend into the air currents, gracefully navigating the dense hail of bullets with an almost predictable trajectory—the very essence of movement he had gleaned from the Shadowless Sword of Night City.

When a mech attempted to grab him with its powered claws, he advanced instead of retreating, his body taut like a bowstring, closing in close and delivering a powerful "kao" strike that incorporated the power generation techniques of the Sandworm Dynasty's Divine Form Fist, slamming heavily into the mech's joints.

That was the second martial skill: Mountain Collapse!

The massive servant was hit so hard by this seemingly ordinary collision that its core balance system went out of control, causing it to stagger backward and happen to block the line of fire of another servant.

Finally, he circled around to the back of the last machine servant like a shadow, pointed his finger like a sword, gathered true essence at his fingertip, and precisely pointed it at the heat dissipation vent of its energy core.

Third move: Inch power!

The true essence penetrated the body, instantly destroying the internal energy circuits.

The entire process was smooth and calm, with violence and order achieving a delicate balance.

As the last servant machine collapsed, billowing black smoke, Hector slowly came to a stop and bowed slightly to Aurelius, who was standing at the edge of the platform.

"Instructor, did I pass?"

“Without using psionic energy, a single Astartes can hardly kill you easily with just its physical body,” Aurelius gave his final assessment. “But a well-coordinated Astartes team can still tear your body to shreds within ten seconds.”

He paused for a moment, and a rare smile appeared on his usually solemn face, which resembled that of an ancient Roman sculpture.

"However, you have already earned the right to... 'reason' with them."

“I look forward to the day when you will have your own power armor. It will certainly be different from the standard armor of the Imperial Guard and the Legion.”

"Congratulations, child. You've graduated."

On the day before leaving the "Arsenal of the Sun", Marcus took Hector to the deepest part of the Forest of Light.

There, suspended in the air, were twenty-one amulets... radiating a soft glow, beating slowly like hearts, crafted from an unknown silver metal.

“This is the ‘Heart of Silence’.” Aurelius’s voice carried a rare hint of reminiscence. “Back then, when creating the ‘Sons,’ the Emperor also crafted these twenty-one amulets for them. Each one contains a trace of the ‘Order’ power from the Emperor’s own origin, capable of isolating the Warp from prying eyes and corruption, and protecting the wearer’s immature mind.”

His gaze swept over the twenty-one amulets, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes.

"Nineteen of them were originally planned to be distributed to those nineteen 'sons'—two of them were commanders of the 20th Legion. And the remaining two..."

His gaze lingered on two slightly dim amulets.

Hector's heart skipped a beat.

The Second Legion and the Eleventh Legion—the “Lost Primarchies” that had been completely erased—reminded him of his first pledge of allegiance to Makado.

“Later, because of that warp storm, the young Primarchs did not have the opportunity to use them. Now, they no longer need them.” Aurelius slowly took one of the two dim amulets. “By order of the Emperor, this ‘lost item’ that should have belonged to the second ‘son’ is bestowed upon you.”

He solemnly handed the cold amulet, which seemed to bear the entire weight of a lost civilization, to Hector.

“Your ‘path’ is too special. It is both hope and… original sin. Before you have enough power to make your ‘path’ resound throughout the galaxy, you need it to shield you from those… unwarranted ‘gazes’.”

Hector gripped the "Heart of Silence" tightly, and could clearly feel a pure and vast power of "order" instantly enveloping his entire body, completely suppressing and calming his "qi" that had become increasingly prominent due to his breakthrough to Foundation Establishment, turning him back into that inconspicuous mortal.

He understood that this was not just a talisman, but also a heavy expectation and a silent question.

The Emperor, this monarch of humanity, told him in this way: I see you, acknowledge your worth, but I am also scrutinizing you. Go, carrying this "legacy" belonging to the lost son, use your "path" to prove you are worthy of this protection, and walk the path... the path he was unable to complete.

This was an act of protection granted to him by the emperor.

It was also a journey that spanned millennia, unfolding under his personal watchful eye...

Chapter 49 The Committee for the Compilation of the Nicaea Code

As Hector Kane held the Heart of Silence, which bore the fate of the lost Primarch, and bowed one last time to Aurelius, his mentor and friend, the silver gate that separated reality from myth slowly closed behind him.

Inside the gate lies a silent mausoleum that buries the remnants of 17,000 human martial arts.

Outside the door lies Terra, an endless steel jungle built of layers upon layers of power and glory.

After half a year of "martial arts training," his Foundation Establishment stage true essence ocean finally found a channel for release and circulation. His physical body was no longer a fragile vessel containing power, but had become a sharp sword sheathed in its sheath.

That "Heart of Tranquility" was like the deepest night, completely obscuring his "qi" that had become increasingly conspicuous due to his breakthrough, turning him back into that inconspicuous mortal boy in a gray monk's robe.

Passing through corridors made of pure light energy and riding the silent, gliding magnetic elevator, Hector's senses are gradually readjusting to the clamor of Terra.

During his six months in the Solar Arsenal, he had grown accustomed to absolute silence and a singular, pure martial will. But now, he could hear the low hum of energy conduits deep within the palace walls, and smell the murky odor of millions of mortals' breaths still lingering in the air circulation system, even after multiple filtrations. His Qi-gazing technique revealed an unprecedented sight—countless streams of "qi," symbolizing power, desire, loyalty, and conspiracy, intertwined like a spiderweb, enveloping every inch of the palace.

He understood that he was about to step into a battlefield more dangerous than any gladiatorial arena.

......

"It seems Marcus Aurelius is quite pleased with you." The Imperial Regent, still with his back to him, gazed out the window at the endless construction project, his voice devoid of emotion. "The last time he showed that expression was when he was instructing a 'child' who has now been forgotten by the times."

Hector remained silent, simply standing still. He knew that Macardo was telling him in this way that he had passed the first test.

“Your ‘path’ has a foundation, and you also have a ‘sword’ to protect you.” Macado slowly turned around, his ancient eyes like two bottomless wells, reflecting Hector’s calm figure. “But if a sword wants to change the world, sharpness alone is far from enough; it also needs a ‘name’ to justify its unsheathing.”

He gently pushed a data panel that was shimmering with a faint light in front of Hector.

“I know that you, having just achieved a breakthrough in martial arts, must be eager to pass on what you have learned to your Dao Guards. But… it’s not the right time yet. Right now, you, your Dao Guards, and your philosophy all need an identity recognized by the Empire.”

"It's not just about my approval and the Emperor's approval, or even the approval of the Primarchs, nor can it be just a secret service agency under my name. It must be the approval of the entire Imperial Central Government. You need this approval to do more important things."

“Nicaea’s judgment is only the beginning, not the end.” Makado’s voice lowered. “The Emperor’s will is to find a path for the Empire to safely harness psionic energy. And you, Hector Kane, the report you submitted is the blueprint for that path. But a blueprint is ultimately just lines on paper. If you want to forge it into an unchanging code for the Empire for millennia, it must undergo the most severe ‘forging’.”

"By the name of the Emperor and I, the 'Nicaea Code Compilation Committee' has been officially established today." Makado stared at him and said, word by word, "And you, as the 'designer' of this blueprint, will attend the first meeting as the 'Chief Metaphysical Advisor'."

Hector took the cold data panel, which clearly displayed the time and location of the meeting, as well as a long list of attendees that would take any mortal's breath away.

He knew this was no ordinary meeting.

This is his "way," the first time he is moving from profound philosophical speculation to cold, realistic rules and regulations.

This is a war between systems.

The committee's meeting place was not located in any of the magnificent halls of the Imperial Palace, but rather in the deepest part of the headquarters of the Terra Law Department—a magnificent building carved from black basalt with no windows.

This place is known as the "Hall of the Scales of Truth".

Legend has it that during the darkest years of the Terran unification war, the Emperor himself laid the first unshakeable legal foundation for the nascent human empire in this very hall, with his supreme will.

As Hector stepped into the hall, led by a guard, a cold, heavy pressure, imbued with an aura of absolute "rules," immediately enveloped him.

The dome of the hall is not a starry sky or a mural, but a huge golden scale formed of pure energy, slowly rotating. The scale has no pan, only two horizontal beams, symbolizing the unquestionable final judgment of the imperial law.

Beneath the scales lay not brilliance, but a profound, man-made shadow, as if proclaiming: before truth and law, individual emotions and struggles are insignificant. The air was thick with the mingled scents of old parchment and cold metal; each breath felt like inhaling the very essence of "rules."

Below the scales was a massive, round conference table crafted from a single block of obsidian. Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the golden light streaming from the dome, creating an atmosphere that was both cold and profound.

The table was already surrounded by people. They were the core gears and bearings that supported the empire's massive war machine.

Hector's gaze swept calmly over the crowd. But in his Qi-gazing technique, he saw a completely different picture—woven from different "luck" and "will," with conflicts and contradictions hidden everywhere.

Sitting to Makado's left was the chief minister from the Imperial Executive Council, an elderly man so obese that he almost deformed the specially made chair.

In Hector's view, the minister was shrouded in a huge, bloated, stagnant gray "aura of bureaucracy," like a swamp of decay.

That aura contained the weight of countless generations of ordinary people's toil, endless tax forms, and mountains of reports that were gradually rotting and decaying due to inefficient operations. It represented the "size" of the empire, vast, yet heavy.

Sitting directly opposite him was the Chief Justice of the Ministry of Justice. He was so thin he resembled a dried-up corpse, and wore a black robe symbolizing absolute justice.

His "aura" was a "law lattice" formed by countless sharp, straight lines, shimmering with a cold, icy light. The lattice was tight and precise, allowing no room for even the slightest flaw. But Hector also clearly saw that on the surface of this seemingly indestructible lattice, countless tiny, ever-spreading cracks were present—scars left when the rules failed to fully adapt to reality. He represented the Empire's "laws," just, yet rigid.

Even in the most inconspicuous corner of the shadows, Hector sensed a “hollow”.

It wasn't the kind of "emptiness" he and Luo Jia had discussed, but rather a kind of... "nothingness," like light being distorted by a black hole, actively erasing all its own information. He understood that a representative from the Assassin's Court must be sitting there.

However, all these powerful and awe-inspiring auras paled in comparison to another will.

Chapter 50 The Star Speaker's Question

That will came from an old man at the other end of the round table.

He wore a deep purple robe embroidered with silver star trails, both magnificent and solemn. His eyes were tightly covered by a black ribbon, but everyone knew that beneath that ribbon lurked a terrifying psychic power that could send shivers down one's spine.

He was none other than Lucius Vero, the chief Star Language Master of the Star Language Hall and the supreme controller of the human empire's information transmission system.

In Hector's vision of "Aura Observation," Vero's existence resembled a deep, cold, and lifeless sea of ​​psionic energy, as still as a windless ocean. That sea was vast and stable, as if no storm could stir up even a ripple on its surface.

This is a state of absolute control, almost like that of a "living machine," achieved after undergoing more than one "soul-binding" ritual.

However, with his unprecedented insight gained after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage, Hector's gaze pierced through this desolate sea and saw... the truth hidden in its deepest depths.

It was a wildly twisted, grayish-black "aura of resentment," like countless cold, barbed venomous snakes, intertwining, tangling, and tearing at each other.

Hector could even faintly 'hear' a silent yet hysterical scream from that 'qi', and 'smell' the acrid stench of a soul being burned. This resentment had long since merged with Vero's soul, becoming the foundation of his existence, driving him, and imprisoning him.

That aura was filled with extreme fear of "loss of control," a deep-seated hatred of "chaos," and a kind of... an inextinguishable obsession stemming from an irreversible tragedy.

At the heart of the resentment, Hector even caught a fleeting glimpse of an image—

Amidst the clash of blood and fire, a young Astro Speaker was engulfed by the flames of the warp with screams, while a younger version of Vero knelt on the ground, his trembling hand reaching out, only to touch a scorching, empty expanse of air...

Hector understood instantly.

This seemingly stubborn and conservative old man was not fighting for power or profit.

He was waging an endless struggle for his long-deceased comrades and for the tragedy that had dragged him into eternal shadow.

He is the most respectable, and also the most dangerous, opponent in this game of chess.

As Hector walked toward his seat at Macado's prompting, all eyes were on him.

“It seems everyone has arrived,” Makado’s aged voice broke the silence. “Then, the first drafting meeting regarding the ‘Nicaea Code’ shall now begin.”