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

As Hector led the two still-shaken students, who had temporarily calmed down thanks to his aura, away from the cold prison, he knew perfectly well—

This "systemic struggle" that will determine the future of the empire has begun.

On one side is the "soul-binding" chamber, a furnace of purgatory, where tools of indifference are forged from pain and fear.

On the other side is a "Taoist temple" that is yet to be named but full of unknown possibilities, which guides lost souls back to their original nature through stillness and enlightenment.

On both sides of the scales of truth, a weight has already been placed.

What will ultimately determine the direction of the tilt will be three months from now—two completely different Daoist minds.

Chapter 53 The Furnace and the Garden

For the vast machine of the empire, the alternation of day and night is but a tiny turn of one of countless gears.

But for Hector Kane and Lucius Verro, who were at the center of the "system war," the next three months were like carefully placing a weight on a scale that would determine the final outcome.

Their battlefield was divided into two completely different "worlds".

Vero, located deep beneath the Star Language Hall headquarters, is the "Soul Forge." It's a circular hall constructed of black basalt and cold adamantite, devoid of any windows. The air is thick with a pungent, acidic stench, a mixture of ozone, burnt nerve tissue, and terrifying decay, accompanied by the unsettling, continuous hum of an overloaded psionic suppressor, like a dentist's drill.

Instead of the Imperial eagle emblem carved on the walls of the hall, the names of millions of Star Speakers who had perished or been purified in the "soul-binding" ritual were laser-etched. Each name, like an unhealed scar, silently spoke of the terror of uncontrolled power under the eerie blue emergency lights.

The three students chosen by Vero—the gardener who could catalyze life with his songs, the gambler who could distort probabilities, and the noble boy who could eavesdrop on people's hearts—were currently fixed to three metal thrones made of countless probes and energy conduits, resembling instruments of torture.

Vero's training methods were simple, brutal, yet incredibly efficient.

He never communicated with his students in any way. In his view, these unbound, wild psionicists were themselves the most dangerous source of contamination.

Soul binding is generally considered to be a psychic ritual performed by the Emperor himself on Star Speaker candidates. Its core objectives are twofold:

Purifying psionic energy isolates the candidate from the chaotic influences of the warp, making their psionic energy pure, controllable, and capable of safely transmitting information in the warp;

Establish a connection, permanently linking the candidate's soul to the Emperor's. This makes the Emperor's supreme psychic power a barrier, protecting the Astromancer from the whispers and attacks of demons in the warp.

But these are only the final step, and what Vero is doing now is the preceding ninety-nine steps—completely purifying a wild psionicist.

“Power is a flood.” His cold, emotionless voice, amplified through the phonographs, echoed throughout the furnace. “Your egos, your will, your emotions, your dreams… all of these are deadly waves unleashed by that chaotic sea. Trying to fight it with your own power is like trying to stop a never-ending tsunami with your bare hands.”

"Only foolish children believe they can fight the sea. Wise men seek out and hide in the strongest dam. The soul bond forged by our Star Language Hall with blood and sacrifice over thousands of years is the only dam that can keep you from destruction! What you must do is not to mend your already riddled selves, but to completely and without reservation, become a part of this great dam! Replace your ridiculous chaos with absolute order; cover your fragile souls with the will of the emperor!"

His assistants, those high-ranking Star Speakers whose eyes were also covered by black cloth and whose auras were as deathly still as an abyss, began to initiate the ritual.

One after another, streams of spiritual energy, imbued with the meaning of "order" and "suppression," pierced the mental world of the three students like invisible iron chains!

"what--!!!"

Heart-wrenching screams instantly echoed throughout the entire furnace.

That noble boy's talent for eavesdropping on people's thoughts turned into the most vicious curse at this moment.

He was forced to "hear" the deepest fears and madness within the hearts of all the Star Speakers around him, accumulated over years of contact with the subspace—fears as vast and cold as an iceberg. His brain was instantly overwhelmed by this torrent of information, and crimson blood flowed from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

The gambler, with his power to distort probabilities, instinctively tried to resist.

The energy conduits around him began to flicker uncontrollably, and the runes on the metal throne glowed and dimmed. But his "chaos" was as insignificant as dust before the Star Language Hall's iron-clad "order." A more powerful force, following his resistance, fiercely retaliated, shattering his soul like fragile glass, leaving countless cracks.

The most tragic case involved the gardener from the world of gardens.

His vibrant and creative psychic energy was the complete opposite of the death and oppression inherent in the soul-binding ritual. His body, caught in the violent clash of these two laws, began to undergo a terrifying mutation. His skin sprouted pale, sorrowful flowers; his veins no longer flowed with blood, but with thorny vines.

Vero remained oblivious to all of this. He simply stood to the side, his face, shrouded in black cloth, as unchanging as an ancient rock. He was like a cold-blooded surgeon, using the most painful methods to remove what he considered a fatal tumor from a patient.

He firmly believed that only by experiencing hellish pain could one truly understand the value of order. Only by completely "dying" could one obtain... eternal "rebirth".

In stark contrast to the Star Language Hall, a hellish furnace filled with agonizing cries, Hector's place was... a deliberately forgotten "Garden of Eden".

With Makado's permission, he found a long-abandoned hanging garden in a secluded area of ​​the Imperial Palace, belonging to a lost era. This had once been a place where the nobles of ancient Terra escaped reality and sought refuge from the world. The enormous glass dome simulated the long-vanished azure sky and white clouds. Beneath the dome flowed a gentle stream, verdant meadows, and rare plants transplanted from all corners of the galaxy, exuding exotic fragrances.

This place is full of life.

Hector named this place "Wenxinzhai" (meaning "Study of Inquiry").

The first thing he did for his two students—Karen, the girl who lost control out of fear; and Groll, the young man who went berserk out of rage—was not training, but…life.

He removed the heavy energy shackles from Grol's hands, leaving only a seemingly fragile wooden collar around his neck, inscribed with a "purifying talisman" by his own true essence.

“This is not a shackle,” Hector said to him. “It is a ‘reminder.’ When you feel the fire within you about to get out of control, touch it and feel the power of ‘stillness’ within it. It cannot suppress your anger, but it can allow you to find a cool island where you can stand temporarily in that sea of ​​fire.”

Hector gave Karen, a girl who was as easily frightened as a bird, a small gardening shovel.

“Your power comes from fear,” he said to the girl huddled in the corner. “You are afraid of it, so it has become a cold weapon that can hurt everything. But now, try to use it to do something different.”

He pointed to a patch of dry land in the garden.

"Feel the longing of these seeds, listen to the breath of these flowers and grasses. Try to use your power to freeze the air and gather the first drop of morning dew for them."

Chapter 54 The Dew and the Stakes of Wenxinzhai

Over the next month, an incredibly strange scene unfolded at "Wenxinzhai".

There were no roars, no dogmas. There was only a mortal mentor in a grey monk's robe, and two "monsters" struggling with the beast within themselves.

Grol, a warrior from a barbaric world, was asked to put down his battle axe for the first time. What Hector taught him was not more powerful combat techniques, but rather... "standing still."

“Your power is like a volcano,” Hector’s voice calmly whispered in his ear. “The more you try to suppress it, the more violently it accumulates. Now, don’t worry about it. Just stand here, imagine your feet as the roots of a great tree, deeply embedded in the rock of Terra. Feel the earth’s stability, listen to the breath of the mountains. When your body can remain as still as a mountain, the volcano within you will naturally find a new way to coexist with the earth.”

At first, Grol couldn't do it at all. He couldn't stand for even a minute before the raging fire within him would surge uncontrollably, making him want to tear everything in front of him to shreds. But whenever this happened, he would subconsciously touch the warm wooden collar around his neck. A cool, tranquil aura would emanate from it, like a timely drizzle, cooling his simmering reason.

Once, twice, a hundred times… he failed countless times. But each time he rose again, the indomitable light of the “warrior’s heart” in his bloodshot eyes shone even brighter.

Meanwhile, Karen's training was even more difficult.

She sat there all day, holding her small gardening shovel, before the parched earth. She dared not touch the seeds, for she feared that her out-of-control icy power would freeze them to death.

“Don’t be afraid of failure, Karen.” Hector would sit quietly beside her with a cup of warm tea. “Your power is to protect, not to destroy. You just… used it the wrong way.”

"I...I can't do it..." the girl's voice trembled with tears, "Whenever I concentrate, everything around me turns cold..."

“Then don’t ‘concentrate’.” Hector smiled and shook his head. “Try… ‘let go’.”

He pointed to an orchid next to him that had withered slightly due to lack of water.

“You are not Karen now. You are this orchid. Feel its thirst, experience its longing for water. When you become one with it, you will naturally know what to do.”

This guidance, shrouded in mysticism, left the girl bewildered. But looking into Hector's eyes, calm as an abyss, she mustered her courage, reached out her hand, trembling slightly with nervousness, and gently touched the withered leaf.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel with her heart.

Gradually, she forgot herself, forgot her fear, forgot that damned, curse-like power. Her consciousness seemed to truly merge into that little orchid. She "felt" the cracked soil, the withered roots, and that most primal, pure yearning for life.

A feeling of compassion welled up from the bottom of her heart.

A miracle happened at that moment.

Her uncontrolled, chilling power, capable only of bringing coldness and death, seemed to be softened by her pure heart of "protection" at this moment. A wisp of extremely faint white mist, almost invisible to the naked eye, overflowed from her fingertips. That mist was no longer icy and biting, but instead carried a touch of... refreshing coolness, like the morning mountain mist.

Mist slowly condensed on the orchid leaves.

In the end, it transformed into a single drop... crystal clear, shimmering with the radiance of life...

As the dewdrop slid slowly down the vein of the leaf and dripped into the parched soil, Karen suddenly opened her eyes. She stared in disbelief at her fingers, then at the orchid that seemed to have regained a glimmer of life.

A clear tear silently slid down her pale cheek.

Those weren't tears of sorrow, but... the joy of rebirth.

Hector, through teaching them, is also contemplating and exploring a path that applies universally to all psychics...

The path to enlightenment.

......

A month later, when Lucius Vero looked at the three "materials" before him, his face carried an undisguised, victorious arrogance.

His three students, like three perfect statues, stood silently before him.

Their auras had become completely unified. The violent, chaotic psionic energy had been utterly "smoothed out," turning into a lifeless, stagnant gray. Their faces were expressionless, their eyes empty, like three exquisite dolls stripped of their souls.

“Perfect.” Vero looked at his “masterpiece” and let out a satisfied whisper, like that of a night owl. “Absolute stability, absolute obedience. This is the tool the Empire needs…”

"Now, let's see what that metaphysical consultant's 'garbage' has become."

When Vero, with his three "tools" that were like walking corpses, stepped into the vibrant "Wenxinzhai," the first thing he felt was a kind of "harmony" that made him extremely uncomfortable.

His soul, long accustomed to navigating the storms of warp space, felt a stinging sense of rejection in this realm of near-perfect tranquility. Without a sound, he released a most subtle psionic probe, attempting to dissect everything before him. However, the information the probe returned stirred a tidal wave of turmoil within his usually calm heart!

In the center of the garden, the barbarian youth Grol stood shirtless with his eyes closed.

He maintained that strange, oriental-sounding stance. But the raging flames around him were gone. In their place was a calm, weighty aura, like the earth itself. His bulging muscles were as solid as granite, and each breath was long and deep, as if resonating with the pulse of the entire garden.

Not far away by the stream, Karen, the girl who used to be as easily frightened as a bird, was walking barefoot and carefully on the smooth pebbles.

A focused and serene smile graced her face. Her hands cradled a lively stream of water, composed of pure icy power, constantly shifting its shape. The water sometimes transformed into birds, sometimes into fish, brimming with spirit and joy.

Their mentor, Hector Kane, sat leisurely under an ancient tree, holding a cup of tea, like a hermit admiring his own garden, detached from worldly affairs.

“Lord Vero.” Hector smiled and nodded as he saw him, as if welcoming an old friend. “It seems your ‘experiment’ has been very successful.”

Vero's face instantly turned extremely ugly.

He could clearly sense that the spiritual energy within these two "defective products" had not been "solidified," but instead... had become purer and more... vibrant!

This is the most direct and resounding... mockery of his theory!

“Just a facade.” Vero spat out the words through gritted teeth, pointing at Grol, his voice as cold as poisoned ice. “You’ve only suppressed his ‘nature,’ like covering a volcano with a thin layer of ice. But have you forgotten, Mr. Advisor, anger is also a true part of the universe! Let me help you complete your ‘lesson’ and let him embrace his true ‘perfection’!”

Before he finished speaking, a cold, twisted, and deceptive wave of psionic energy erupted from his body!

His target was not Hector.

Instead, it was that seemingly most stable person standing in the stance... the barbarian youth, Grol!

"Wake up, warrior!"

Vero's voice, like the whisper of a serpent, resonated deep within Grol's soul: "Why do you suppress your anger? Anger is the source of your power! See the true nature of this world! The strong prey on the weak! Destroy or be destroyed! Come, unleash your flames and burn these fragile, laughable flowers and plants before you, along with that liar who tried to imprison you with lies, to ashes!"

This is the most vicious psychological attack from the highest leader of the Star Language Hall!

Chapter 55 Thunderous Means

The eternal azure sky of "Wenxinzhai," simulated by ancient technology, was replaced at this moment by an ominous, dark red halo, like solidified magma.

It did not originate from changes in light and shadow in the outside world, but from the burning of a soul.

Grol, the young man from the savage world, whose heart burned with the spirit of a warrior, was now kneeling in agony in the center of the garden. His muscles, hardened by countless stance training sessions and as solid as granite, were convulsing uncontrollably. Beneath his skin, it felt as if countless red-hot irons were running through him, turning every inch of his skin a terrifying, almost charred crimson.

"Roar--!!!"

An uncontrollable roar, filled with pain and rage, erupted from the depths of his throat! It was no longer the voice of a mortal, but rather the first roar of an ancient beast that had been imprisoned for hundreds of millions of years, breaking free of its shackles!

Crimson flames, brimming with destructive power, erupted from his seven orifices like magma bursting its banks! These were no ordinary flames, but rather a "heart fire"—a mixture of psychic energy and pure hatred—capable of directly igniting the soul!

Wherever the flames passed, the lush green grass instantly turned into charcoal, the babbling stream was evaporated on the spot, and even the air was distorted and wailed under the scorching energy!

His entire being transformed into a blazing, humanoid torch, representing loss of control and destruction!

"Grol!"

On the other side of the stream, the girl Karen let out a terrified scream. Her blue eyes, which had just regained a glimmer of life, were once again filled with fear. Instinctively, she tried to activate the ice power she had just learned to control, attempting to extinguish the flames that were capable of devouring everything.

She could feel Grol's life being rapidly consumed and burned in the flames!

"Do not move!"

Hector's voice rang out instantly, like a cold iron chain, forcefully stopping her instinctive rescue attempt. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority, instantly overwhelming the roar of the flames and the girl's screams.

He slowly stood up, his face more solemn than ever before.

He activated his "Aura Observation" technique, locking onto Grolna's soul, which was being consumed by flames.

Then, he saw it.

He saw that, under the corrosive influence of Chief Astrologer Lucius Vero's gray-black psionic aura filled with "resentment," and at the center of Grol's own violent, crimson "aggressive aura," there was a wisp... extremely faint, yet incredibly resilient, constantly changing color and shape... pale purple thread!

The moment Hector's "Aura Observation" touched that thread, he felt as if he were being "stared at" from a higher dimension, an eye full of mockery and wisdom!

A cold, malicious intent, not originating from Vero, was about to surge into his heart!

Just then! The "Silent Heart" in his chest emitted a silent spiritual energy, spreading outwards from Hector's mind and coating it with a delicate layer of "see-through" spiritual energy.

The malice passed through me, seemingly without finding its target.