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

A uniquely shaped longsword, with a liquid, silvery sheen flowing across its blade and an exotic beauty, appeared before everyone.

A chilling, intensely alluring aura instantly emanated from the sword!

“And this,” Fabius’s voice became like a devil’s whisper, “is the carving knife I used to sculpt this ‘perfect work of art’…

"It comes from an alien race called 'Ral,' which our legion has already 'perfectly' purified. It possesses an incredible power—it can 'catalyze' the genes of our Astartes, allowing us... to break free from the shackles set by the Emperor called 'Limits,' and embrace a greater, endless evolution!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Hector clearly felt that Forgrim, sitting in the main seat, had his heart, which pursued "perfection," beat violently and uncontrollably the moment that demonic sword appeared!

At this moment, the small black void at the core of his soul seemed to be attracted by the "qi" of the sword, and with a greedy attitude, it quietly expanded slightly.

Hector knew that the curtain had officially risen on this deadly drama about "perfection."

He, the "doctor" from another land, will face not only a mad scientist blinded by ambition, but also a pitiful Phoenix Lord who is about to be devoured by his purest dream.

The grand feast at the "Hall of Ten Thousand Mirrors" finally came to an end in a near-performative and perfect ceremony.

As the last Space Marine exited the hall with precisely calculated steps, the melodious symphony abruptly ceased at the very last note, and the entire space instantly returned to a chilling, absolutely perfect stillness.

Forgrim did not let Hector leave.

This Phoenix Lord, like the most passionate artist who, having found a kindred spirit, is eager to display his most precious collection.

He personally led Hector through a corridor paved with luminous crystals, its light as soft as flowing moonlight, toward his private art gallery, the most central and private sanctuary on the Proud Phoenix.

This is the soul sanctuary of Fugrim.

As the door, carved from a single massive piece of natural purple crystal with nebula-like patterns, slid open silently, Hector Kane felt as if he had stepped into a separate universe constructed of pure "beauty."

Here, the unsettling coldness of the "Hall of a Thousand Mirrors" is absent; instead, there is a warmer, and even more... obsessive, artistic atmosphere. The dome is a single piece of psionic crystal, simulating the eternal, violet twilight of an art planet called "Qual-Sabbah," long since purified by the fires of the Empire.

Under the soft light, hundreds of works of art from different civilizations, which Fugrim considered "perfect," are on display.

Chapter 76 Evolution and Harmony

Hector saw a bird statue carved from living metal, belonging to some long-extinct alien race.

Every feather of the bird was clearly visible, as if it were about to break free from the shackles of gravity and take flight at any moment. Its form was so perfect, full of dynamism and vitality, but Hector's "aura-reading" clearly "saw" that in that cold metal core, there was no longer a trace of "life," only an eternally frozen "stillness" belonging to death.

He then saw a star map drawn from millions of grains of sand in different colors.

Every star in the painting corresponds precisely to a real celestial body that Terra astronomers can observe, its color and radiance perfect to the extreme. But the entire painting lacks one thing—time. It is merely a perfect, frozen "moment," but it lacks the "Taoist rhythm" of the universe's ceaseless cycle of life and motion.

Everything here is perfect. Perfect, like a specimen stripped of its soul.

"Well, Dean Kane?" Forgrim's voice carried a barely perceptible hint of pride, a desire for praise. "This is the path I have pursued all my life: to transform all the fleeting beauty in the universe into eternal, immortal masterpieces. Isn't this a more active and greater undertaking than your philosophy, which is full of 'silence' and 'inaction'?"

Hector did not answer immediately. His gaze fell on an exhibit at the very center of the art gallery.

It was a life-size human statue carved from pure white marble. The statue's muscle lines, skeletal structure, and even the curve of every single hair were flawlessly perfect, as if it were an incarnation of Apollo from ancient Terran mythology. But its eyes were empty.

“Lord of the Phoenix,” Hector began slowly, his voice calm and sincere, “your collection is, without a doubt, the most dazzling treasure of the entire empire. Each piece represents the pinnacle of its civilization’s understanding of ‘beauty.’ But…”

"But?" Forgrim raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly intrigued by the transition word.

“But, if I may be so bold, they are all missing one thing,” Hector said, pointing to the perfect human statue. “They are missing ‘breath’.”

Just then, a voice filled with scientific rigor and cold logic came from the shadows of the art gallery, perfectly interrupting the philosophical discussion that was about to go deep.

“Breathing is inefficient. It is merely an energy exchange process, full of redundant movements, that the flesh and blood must perform in order to maintain its pathetic life activities.”

Chief Pharmacist Fabius Bayer had arrived sometime earlier. He wore his pristine white research robe and held a data panel made of metal and crystal that was emitting a faint glow, like a scholar about to defend his great discovery.

He walked up to the perfect human statue, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism, as if he were looking at his future creation.

“My lord, Dean Kane.” He bowed slightly to the two of them before eagerly launching into his argument, “I cannot agree with Dean Kane’s view. Art is emotional, it is ambiguous. True ‘perfection’ must be built upon absolutely rational, quantifiable ‘science’!”

He pointed to the statue: "From a biological point of view, this body is full of flaws. His heart beats sixty times a minute to pump inefficient blood throughout his body; his lungs need to constantly perform this inefficient movement called 'breathing' to obtain negligible amounts of oxygen; and his genes are filled with countless useless 'junk sequences' that could lead to aging, disease, and death!"

“And my goal,” Fabius’s voice became impassioned, with the unquestionable passion of a scientific madman, “is to use the sharpest scalpel of ‘evolution’ to eliminate all these defects! To create a… a true… ‘god’ that no longer needs to breathe, no longer fears aging, and whose every cell operates at 100% efficiency!”

His gaze shifted to Forgrim, his eyes filled with temptation.

"And that demonic sword from Lyle, my lord, is the key bestowed upon us by the gods to unlock this great evolution... The alien technology it contains can directly affect our genetic seeds, unlocking the higher potential that the Emperor has locked away in Astartes! Imagine it, my lord! A Third Legion composed of 'perfect samples,' tireless and infallible! What a magnificent sight that would be! That is the ultimate 'perfect art' you have been seeking!"

Fabius's words, like those of a master persuader, struck precisely at the softest, most yearning spot in Fugrim's heart. His violet eyes gleamed with an irrepressible, eager light.

He looked at Hector, as if hoping that this "philosopher" from Terra could offer some different insights into this debate concerning the future of the Legion.

Hector knew it was his turn.

He did not refute Fabius's seemingly impeccable "scientific theory." He knew that using science to fight science would only lead to endless arguments about data and logic.

He chose a different path. A path that only the artist, Fugrame, could understand.

“Your Excellency Fabius,” Hector first nodded slightly to the chief apothecary to show his respect, “your pursuit of ‘evolution’ is admirable. The blueprint you have drawn is indeed magnificent. However, you seem to have confused two concepts.”

"'Enhancement' versus 'evolution'."

Fabius frowned: "What's the difference?"

"Of course there is. What is perfection? Flaws and shortcomings are certainly regrettable, but everything in excess is as bad as deficiency."

Hector walked to the other side of the statue, facing Fabius across the distance, creating a strange standoff. "Simply adding power and increasing efficiency is just 'enhancement.' It's like constantly increasing the amount of fuel injected into a battle armor engine. It may be able to unleash stronger power in a short time, but the final result will inevitably be overheating, wear and tear, and even... complete collapse."

He glanced meaningfully at Lucius, the man at the banquet known as the "perfect sample."

Chapter 77 A Piece of Nonsense Using a Tiger's Skin as a Pretext

“The core of true ‘evolution’ is not ‘enhancement’, but rather… ‘harmony’.”

Hector's voice became distant and profound: "It is developing a more powerful 'heat dissipation' system while pursuing greater power; it is evolving a more resilient 'mind' while possessing more sensitive nerves. What it pursues is not the infinite breakthrough of a single indicator, but the higher-level 'balance' of the entire system."

“As our ancestral classic says: ‘Excessive rigidity leads to breakage, and the highest good is like water.’” He looked at Forgrim and said slowly.

"The hardest steel is the easiest to break. The softest water can penetrate the hardest rock. Lord Phoenix, you are a great artist, and you should understand this better than anyone else. A painting is not a masterpiece because the colors are more vibrant. A piece of music is not a masterpiece because the pitch is higher. True perfection lies in... just the right amount of 'harmony'."

These words, like a clear spring, instantly flowed into Fogrem's heart, which had become somewhat agitated by Fabius's instigation. A glimmer of understanding flashed in his violet eyes.

Seeing the change in Forgrim's expression, Hector knew the time had come.

He stopped looking at Fabius and instead focused his gaze directly on the Rael Sword, which was enshrined in a corner of the art gallery and housed in an obsidian sword case.

“Lord Fabius, you regard this sword as the ‘key’ to unlocking evolution. As for me, I regard it as a… work of art.”

"A work of art that is full of passion, power, and unparalleled skill, but ultimately becomes a 'failure' because of a fatal flaw."

"What did you say?!" Fabius's voice was filled with genuine anger. He could not tolerate anyone desecrating the "sacred" tool in his eyes.

Vograim, however, was completely captivated by Hector's groundbreaking "art critique." He waved his hand with interest, signaling Hector to continue.

"Please allow me to interpret this artwork for you using the methods of identification of 'form,' 'energy,' and 'spirit' that were approved and tested at the 'Nicaea Code Committee.' Lord Phoenix."

After using Terra's name as a front, Hector slowly closed his eyes and activated "Aura Observation" once more.

This time, he was no longer simply observing. He used his vast, Foundation Establishment realm divine sense, like the finest and most sensitive probe, to carefully probe the demonic sword that exuded endless allure.

Then he began to "sing".

His voice was no longer its usual calm tone, but rather had a rhythmic and emotional quality, like that of a bard.

This classical opera-like performance style is more in line with Vograme's love of art.

“I ‘saw’... the ‘soul’ of this sword.”

"Its base color is an extremely vibrant, morbidly passionate purplish-red, like the fiery clouds of a midsummer evening."

The colors were so intense, so aggressive, as if they wanted to drag the whole world into an endless sensory feast.

It's screaming, it's shouting, it's luring everyone who sees it to embrace ultimate pleasure, to experience ultimate pain...

His description made Forgrim's breathing quicken involuntarily. For Hector spoke of precisely the most primal yearning for "ultimate beauty" that resided deep within his heart!

"Its brushstrokes are wild."

Hector's voice became urgent, as if he were describing a painting that was on fire.

"It has no composition, no rules! It uses order to construct chaos!"

"Its skill has gone out of control!" Hector's voice suddenly rose!

"It's like a painter with extraordinary skill, yet utterly insane! He has the ability to paint the entire universe, but all he wants to do is splash all the paint onto the canvas without restraint!"

What he pursues is not 'beauty', but 'abundance'!

More colors, more passion, more stimulation—until the entire painting becomes an indistinguishable, conflict-ridden, and nauseating filth!

Finally, Hector opened his eyes abruptly, his dark pupils reflecting what seemed like a collapsing starry sky. He looked at Forgrim and, in a tone filled with pity and regret, delivered his final verdict on the sword.

"Lord of the Phoenix, this sword does not pursue 'perfection'. It pursues 'the ultimate'."

“But the end of ‘extreme’ is never ‘perfection’.”

"It is 'destruction'."

"It is like a piece of music stretched to its limit, about to snap. It may play the most magnificent and soaring notes in the entire universe in the instant before it breaks. But what follows is eternal silence."

“In art, this is the greatest ‘flaw’. In the ‘Tao’, this is the greatest ‘imbalance’.”

"What it catalyzes is not evolution."

"It was a magnificent act of self-destruction."

The entire art museum fell into a long, deathly silence.

Fabius Bayer, the chief pharmacist who believed in absolute science, was refuted by a language full of "poetic" and "philosophical" elements that he could not understand at all, leaving him speechless and at a loss for words. This was something that his extremely "engineering" mind could not comprehend.

Forgrim, the Lord of the Phoenix, was utterly stunned by Hector's "artistic commentary."

He looked at the demonic sword lying quietly in its scabbard, then at the mortal before him who seemed to see through all appearances and directly into the essence of the soul.

He then looked at the statue in front of him, and at Bayer next to it.

His pursuit of "perfection" caused him intense and uncontrollable confusion.

The "evolution" of science and the "harmony" of philosophy.

Enhanced “extreme”, balanced “perfect”.

At this moment, two completely different paths lay before him.

Hector's pronouncement, imbued with the flavor of Eastern metaphysics, was like a stubborn stone thrown into a deep pool, stirring up ripples that would never subside in the lake of Forgrim's heart, which was in pursuit of absolute "perfection."

The entire art museum fell into a silence deeper than death, a silence filled with intellectual clashes.

Above the dome, a violet halo, simulating the eternal twilight of Quarawa, flowed silently.

The shadows of the three opposing figures were stretched incredibly long and distorted, resembling three ancient deities engaged in a silent debate.

Chief Pharmacist Fabius Bayer, a mad scientist who sees genes as the ultimate code, encounters for the first time an unsolvable wall called "philosophy" in his world full of logic and data.

His eyes, burning with fanaticism, were fixed on Hector, filled with the anger of someone who had been offended and the frustration of a scientist encountering an incomprehensible "heresy" theory...

That instinctive, intense desire to dissect and disprove it completely.

"What nonsense!"

Chapter 78 Practice Tests Truth

"What nonsense!"

His icy voice finally shattered the frozen silence, as jarring as a scalpel scraping against glass: "'Soul'? 'Flaw'? 'Self-destruction'? Dean Kane, please put away your unquantifiable literary metaphors, spurious from the rubbish heap of some lost era, filled with mystical dross!"

He stepped forward, opened his arms, as if to embrace the hall filled with works of art before him with scientific rationality.

"The world we live in is not the ethereal 'Tao' you speak of, but a cold reality constructed from matter, energy, and laws!"

Evolution is the most sacred yet ruthless law in the universe! It doesn't care whether the process is 'harmonious'; it only cares whether the result is 'stronger'!

His gaze shifted to Forgrim, and in his eyes, that alluring flame of a "preacher" rekindled once more.

“My Lord! Please do not be deceived by these empty words! His so-called ‘harmony’ is nothing but an excuse woven by the weak to cover up their inability to progress!”

It's the jealousy of a mediocre person towards a genius!

True perfection is never a stagnant, balanced pond, but a constantly rising, constantly breaking through, eternally burning, eternally evolving... star!

He pointed to the sword of Ral, which lay quietly in its scabbard, and his voice became incredibly impassioned, like that of the most fervent preacher:

"This sword is the 'spark' that can ignite the flame of our legion's evolution! It contains a 'truth' belonging to the aliens that is more advanced than our current technology!"

My Lord, are we to reject this gift that will allow us to surpass all our brother legions and become true "sons of the emperor" simply because of a mortal's notion of "balance" and complacency?