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

"You watched him burn in your arms for seven days and seven nights, consumed by endless lies and the flames of change. You could even smell the acrid stench of his soul being set ablaze, and feel the unspeakable pain he transmitted to you with each spasm. His wails remain the only background noise in your sleepless nights to this day. From that day on, you swore a blood oath to fight against all the chaos in the universe with the harshest 'order.' You transformed yourself into a cold, infallible dam."

Every word Macardo uttered was like a merciless carving knife, tearing open the deepest, long-healed scar in Vero's heart, leaving it raw and bleeding.

Vero's body trembled violently. His ashen face revealed the extreme pain that only mortals could feel.

“You are not wrong, Vero.” Macado’s voice carried a rare, almost “gentle” compassion. “Your initial intention was to protect. Your obsession stemmed from love. But, my old friend, you seem to have forgotten one thing.”

"A port with only a dike but no lighthouse will eventually be completely swallowed up by the endless darkness it tries to resist."

Having said that, he slowly turned around, his eyes, which seemed to hold the wisdom of tens of thousands of years of humankind, looking directly at the tiny mortal boy in the center of the round table.

“And today,” his voice suddenly rose, like a final verdict, resounding throughout the Hall of Truth! “Someone has relit for us that long-lost…lighthouse!”

He waved his hand sharply, a gesture full of authority, as if he were opening a brand new course for the empire!

"I, in the name of the Regent of the Empire, the one who holds the seal, hereby make the final judgment!"

"The 'Quantitative Rating System for the Stability of Daoist Mind' presented by Hector Kane is a method that can be tried!"

"Effective immediately, a new psychic organization will be established, independent of the Star Language Hall, directly led by Chief Metaphysical Advisor Hector Kane. Its responsibilities are to refine and pilot the draft of this code, explore and teach this new path, and discover even more glorious possibilities for the Empire's management of psychics!"

Makado's gaze swept across the entire room, his eyes filled with an unquestionable, ruler-like decisiveness!

"This organization will not be named after 'power,' but based on 'discipline.' Its members will be the 'navigators' of the empire's future, the 'light bearers' who walk in the darkness and guide the lost."

Its name will be—

Makado suddenly stopped, his expression hardening, and turned slightly to the side, as if listening to a distant sound.

That was not a sound at the physical level, but a resonance of supreme will that directly penetrated reality and subspace, spanning light-years.

His ancient eyes, which seemed to have seen through the long river of time, revealed a complex expression that even Marcus Aurelius, the instructor of the Imperial Guards, had never seen before—a mixture of awe and understanding.

Above the dome of the hall, the enormous golden scales moved without wind, emitting a distant hum like the breath of a star.

Then, he gave Hector a deep look. His gaze was not that of a superior looking at a subordinate, but rather that of an ancient chess player looking at a piece that had jumped off the board but landed perfectly back in the most crucial position.

He said slowly:

"A decree from the Emperor."

Everyone present, whether arrogant bureaucrats, proud guards, or rational sages, felt at that moment an absolute will as heavy as the foundation of the universe and as brilliant as the light of creation.

Without any hesitation, they immediately stood up and solemnly bowed with the highest respect they could muster.

"Name it—the Jiejiao Academy!"

The verdict has been delivered.

Above the dome, the enormous golden scales shone with radiant light, as if playing a silent hymn to the arrival of this new era.

However, Hector Kane, or rather, Lin Chen, who was bowing, heard those four words the instant...

It was like being struck by lightning, my soul and spirit scattered.

Chapter 65 A Memory

(This book will not feature a scenario where the Three Pure Ones fight the Four Gods, nor will it be a mixture of two different worldviews.)

"The Jie Sect Academy!"

When Macardo's aged voice uttered those syllables from another time, another civilization, another mythological system, Hector felt his world collapse completely in an instant.

This is not a metaphor, but a real, physical, and spiritual level.

The cold, obsidian-built round conference table in the Hall of the Scales of Truth vanished. The slowly rotating golden scales above the dome disappeared.

The various powerful imperial giants around them, along with the complex "qi" intertwined around them, all vanished into a blank, faded background in that instant.

In his world, only those four words remained.

These four words, like a piece of virus code from an unknown dimension that cannot be deciphered, instantly invaded the underlying logic of his entire existence, triggering a devastating chain of collapses!

Just as his Dao heart, tempered by countless trials, was about to develop its first crack, and his entire spiritual sea was about to be completely overturned by this unbearable paradox, a will of absolute "self" originating from the very core of existence was suddenly unleashed!

At the center of the vast ocean of true essence within his dantian, his natal magic weapon, the "Invisible Needle," which was formed from his own essence, qi, and spirit and had just begun to take shape during the foundation-building stage, sensed its master's impending doom and instantly awoke from its chaotic nurturing state!

It was not a passive act of protecting its master, but rather, as the purest extension of Hector's "self" will, it made the most decisive and correct response!

It did not unleash any energy, nor did it emit any light.

It just... tensed up instantly!

That needle, neither gold nor jade, formless and shapeless, was not aimed at the vast will of the outside world, but rather pierced inward, fiercely and mercilessly, straight into Hector's mind, which was about to be completely overwhelmed by fear and confusion!

That was not an attack, but the most extreme form of "self-salvation"! A soul-crushing surgery, like a hero cutting off his own arm!

This stab, silent and still, seemed to resonate in every corner of Hector's soul! A cold, pure, and emotionless "pain" instantly pierced through his collapsing consciousness!

It was like an absolutely rational coordinate axis, forcibly nailed into a chaotic, infinitely collapsing cosmic singularity, instantly stopping that devastating collapse!

All the massive torrent of information generated by these four words, enough to drive even the Primal Body mad, and these thoughts that could tear any Dao Heart to shreds, were forcibly compressed from the raging torrent back into cold, observable grains of dust in the face of this cold, heart-piercing pain, as if encountering a natural enemy.

The invisible needle didn't eliminate the fear; it merely used the most brutal method to forcibly pull Hector, who was about to be overwhelmed by fear, out of the fear itself. It saved him from the brink of utter collapse.

In the instant Hector regained his composure, a "link" from the depths of Terra connected with his mind through the "Silent Heart" in his chest.

It was as if an ancient key that had been lost for millions of years had finally found its one and only lock, and then, gently, it turned.

"Click——"

He was forcibly and brutally pulled into a memory that didn't belong to him, yet was intimately connected to him...

The scene before my eyes was dizzying.

The cold, impersonal Hall of the Scales of Truth transformed into a majestic, ancient mountain peak that pierces the clouds. It was not any known mountain on Terra; it was far older and far more spiritual.

Beneath your feet lie rugged, weathered blue rocks, some even bearing the marks of lightning strikes and the resulting glassy texture.

Looking up, what I saw was not Terra's dark red sky polluted by industry, but a deeper, more ancient, and seemingly mysterious black dome that contained all the secrets of the universe.

Above the sky, there were no familiar stars, only "celestial rivers" made of pure energy flowing slowly like giant dragons.

A figure stood with his back to him, hands clasped behind his back.

That was a figure that could not be remembered.

He was wearing an ancient robe, also jet black, embroidered with dark gold dragon patterns and the sun, moon, and stars.

It wasn't any kind of formal attire from the empire, but rather more like... a robe that Lin Chen had only ever seen in the oldest historical paintings. The hem of the robe fluttered slightly in the relentless gale on the mountaintop, yet it carried a weight that even time and space could not shake.

His physique may not seem imposing, but his very existence is as if he were the absolute center of this mountain, this sky, this world.

Lin Chen couldn't even see any details of his body, because any attempt to focus was deflected and distorted by an invisible, gentle yet unstoppable force, leaving only a blurry halo.

Lin Chen's thoughts almost stopped at this moment. He could only act as a passive observer, feeling that loneliness that transcended eternity.

Following the figure's gaze, look ahead.

Then, he saw it.

That is not the real starry sky.

That was a... painting.

A vast and boundless dynamic scroll painting that seems to encompass the entire universe!

It hangs in the air, "unfolding" between reality and illusion. With each breath, the light and shadow on the scroll are constantly changing and changing.

The painting depicts war.

A mythical war that surpasses the limits of human imagination for both Lin Chen and Hector!

He saw a towering demon god with three heads and six arms, wielding a magical artifact forged from burning stars, battling immortals who commanded thunder and storms amidst shattered galaxies! Planet after planet was easily shattered like fragile glass beads in their clash, turning into cosmic dust!

He saw a majestic golden statue, formed from the beliefs of countless beings, stretching out its colossal hand that blotted out the sky, attempting to suppress a nine-colored giant bird composed of pure, ever-changing "change" itself within its palm! Each flap of the bird's wings would unleash an endless storm of lies and conspiracies, distorting even the laws of reality!

He saw a warrior dressed in black robes, followed by tens of thousands of creatures of all shapes and sizes...

This is not "history," it's more like a war of ideas, a war about the most fundamental things!

The figure simply watched silently as countless gods fell and countless brilliant "possibilities" vanished in the midst of their mutual slaughter on the scroll.

Lin Chen couldn't see his gaze, but he could sense that he was eerily calm, as if he were watching a drama whose ending he already knew. Beneath that calm lay a profound sorrow that could freeze the universe.

A long time, a long time.

The figure slowly spoke.

What he was speaking was not high Gothic; it seemed not to be language at all, but rather a resonance of souls.

The voice, though not loud, seemed to carry the weight of an entire civilization, filled with endless melancholy and an undisguised regret.

"...Unfortunately, it was ruined by 'He'."

Which "He" is it? Is it the people in the painting? The incarnation of the Four Evil Gods? Or... something else entirely?

Countless thoughts flashed through Lin Chen's mind in an instant!

However, before he could think further, the painting before him shattered like a stone thrown into a calm lake, turning into countless points of light that vanished without a trace!

Immediately afterwards, a clearer and heavier sentence was no longer heard, but was branded directly into reality, into the deepest part of Hector's soul, like a red-hot branding iron!

The sound was directly to him.

"...The road is good."

"But the one walking is wrong."

"Now, it's your turn to leave."

"boom--!!!"

Hector's consciousness, as if thrown violently from a height of ten thousand meters, instantly returned to his cold, mortal body!

The familiar atmosphere of the Hall of the Scales of Truth, filled with rules and oppression, enveloped him once again.

He maintained the same slightly bowed posture, as if paying homage to the emperor's decree. Around him, the imperial leaders were still reeling from the inexplicable shock brought on by the name "Jiejiao Daoyuan," and had not yet fully recovered.

But Hector's world has been... turned upside down.

Chapter 66 Walking

"Those who left were wrong."

Who betrayed those who originally followed this path?

Who ultimately abandoned this path full of "variables" and chose another, more "absolute" and more "efficient" path of iron and blood?

He recalled the title bestowed upon him by Macardo when they first met—"The Regent's Walker".

He thought at the time it was just a mysterious code name that represented "walking in the shadows, observing the world as regent."

But now, the word "walking" has a completely new meaning.

"The road is good. But the person walking on it is wrong." "Now, it's your turn to walk it."

A person walking... that's what "walking" means!

Those experiences were all tests, tests of whether I could become someone who walks on my own two feet.

A harsh path of trials filled with thorns and flames!

Test everything about him, examine every corner of his soul.

See if his psychic powers are stable, and whether he can carve out an absolutely pure "inner universe" in that raging warp ocean, instead of getting burned like Magnus did.

See if his Dao heart is firm, and whether he can still maintain that impartial "moderation and peace" under the crushing weight of the four supreme wills of Loka's piety, Magnus's pride, Feralus's stubbornness, and Horus's glory.

See if he truly understands that "Tao," and whether he can transform that profound and mysterious Eastern philosophy into a cold "Legalist standard" and "alchemy" that imperial bureaucrats can understand, rather than becoming just another theorist who only talks empty words.

See if his martial arts have room for growth, whether he can forge his own unique, balanced, and dynamic martial arts from the extreme killing efficiency of the Imperial Guard and the martial arts philosophy of countless lost civilizations, instead of remaining stagnant.

Let's see if his eloquence can persuade the bewildered Primarch, withstand the malicious attacks, and find the most delicate balance among the love and hate of those demigod brothers.

Furthermore, they also wanted to see if he could navigate the empire's existing, intricate political landscape with ease, and whether he could use the most sophisticated political skills to secure fertile ground for his "outlier" status to take root and flourish.

And finally, and most importantly—can he consider the bigger picture, remain clear-headed in the face of the temptation of victory, and, as he does today, use the wisdom of "taking three steps forward and two steps back" to promote a subtle and gradual reform, rather than a fierce revolution that would drag the entire empire into war?

To change the fate of an empire, one must first weigh it.

As everyone recovered from the sacred pronouncement and began to leave, they saw the tiny, ordinary boy standing in the center of the round table, still standing there quietly in a gesture of respect.

Hector slowly, deeply exhaled a breath of stale air. That breath carried away the last vestiges of hope and confusion in his heart, as well as the fear that could shatter the soul of a mortal upon glimpsing the secrets of the gods.