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

He doesn't need anyone's approval; he doesn't even care about the "gifts" of the chaotic gods. All he seeks is that purest, and most blasphemous, pleasure derived from "creation" itself.

Now, this most dangerous "virus," cloaked in science, has returned to the Third Army's seemingly "recovering" and magnificent greenhouse, carrying its most deadly "petri dish."

It will silently take root, sprout, and eventually bloom into the most beautiful and vicious flower of destruction on that most fertile soil filled with "nothingness" and "confusion".

"what should I do?"

A thought arose in Hector's mind.

Return to Terra immediately and expose all of this to Macado and the Emperor.

He has no evidence.

The forgery was physically perfect. No scanner could distinguish it from the genuine article. And his divination text was utterly inadmissible as evidence before the Chief Justice of the Ministry of Justice.

That would only put him in a more passive and dangerous situation.

It might even lead Forgrim, who has just begun to trust him, to believe that he is using conspiracy theories to sow discord within his own legion, thus completely slamming shut the door to the "Tao" that he had so painstakingly opened for him.

"Don't be impatient..."

Hector slowly closed his eyes. He used his already perfect and unobstructed Dao heart to soothe the turbulent waves in his heart caused by glimpsing the truth, little by little.

He knew that he was now like a doctor who had diagnosed a deadly tumor hidden deep within a patient's body. But he didn't have a sharp enough scalpel, nor did he have the absolute trust of the patient and their family.

Any reckless "operation" will only lead to the patient's immediate death.

All he could do was wait.

Waiting for that tumor, itself, to reveal its hideous and ugly true nature from beneath that seemingly healthy body.

"I need... a sharper knife, and more help."

He needs... more "resources" and "friends".

More insights into the most fundamental "laws" of this universe.

More opportunities to confront those powerful beings head-on...

"It seems that the Taoist Academy must speed up its pace."

A glint of unprecedented sharpness flashed in Hector's eyes.

He knew that his time was running out.

Fabius, with the most exquisite 'technique', toyed with the still nascent 'Tao'.

The countdown to the storm destined to sweep across the entire galaxy was abruptly halted the moment the chief apothecary, with a victorious smile, concealed the true demonic sword in the laboratory...

It was moved forward a large increment.

Chapter 91 The Secret Talks of Return

The Imperial Regent's Chamber remains a simple, unspoiled space, seemingly forgotten by time and filled with relics from the ancient Terra era.

Ancient Terra's mathematics books lay quietly on the bookshelf, while the armillary sphere with a traditional galactic model gleamed with the warm glow of brass in the corner. The black-and-white footage of the moon landing still played silently and on a loop in the center of the room.

Everything here is completely out of step with the outside world's empire, which only believes in "iron and blood" and "conquest".

As Hector's figure silently entered the room, led by a guard, Imperial Regent Macardo stood with his back to him, gazing at the image from the past.

His back view was still thin, yet it carried a weight that seemed to be able to bear the weight of the entire starry sky.

Fabius Bayer.

Macardo didn't turn around. His aged voice, calm yet sharp, cut straight to the heart of the meeting like a merciless chisel: "An interesting name. In my archives, records of him date back to the early days of the Third Legion's formation."

He had always been the Legion's most outstanding apothecary, and also... the most restless. He had submitted proposals to the Emperor himself more than once regarding the 'optimization' of the Astartes gene seed. But each time, they were rejected on the grounds of 'uncontrollable risks.'

"It seems that he has finally found another shortcut... to bypass the 'approval' process."

Hector silently and gently placed the heavy stasis container in the center of the room. Then, he respectfully presented it with a data panel.

“Your Excellency, this is the Sage Alkan’s preliminary data analysis report on this ‘Sword of Ral’.” His voice was equally calm, without the slightest emotional fluctuation. “From the perspective of the ‘weapon’, it is ‘dying’.”

Makado slowly turned around, his eyes, which seemed to hold the weight of tens of thousands of years of human history, falling on the data panel. He didn't take it, but simply looked at it quietly.

"Its energy decay curve does not conform to the entropy increase model of any known chaotic object."

Hector continued, his tone as if delivering a highly objective academic report: "The chaotic pheromones within it, filled with 'temptation' and 'corruption,' are losing their activity. According to the calculation model of the Sage of Alcan, in about three Terran Standard Years, it will completely transform into a... ordinary object with no psionic effects whatsoever, except for its special material."

"A...chaos weapon that is purifying itself?"

Makado's voice carried a subtle, ironic question.

"This is truly...unheard of."

“Yes, sir.” Hector nodded. “From the perspective of the ‘instrument,’ it is indeed a miracle that cannot be explained by logic. So, on the way back, I dared to conduct a ‘diagnosis’ of it in another way.”

He took out the three hexagonal nuts from his pocket, which he had already polished to a smooth, jade-like finish.

“I used the Book of Changes passed down from my ancestors to cast a divination for it.”

A genuine curiosity flashed in Makado's eyes. He knew that this was the real "report" that the mortal boy before him was about to present to him.

“The hexagram is ‘Fire over Wind’.” Hector’s voice became distant and profound, as if he were chanting an ancient ballad. “The cauldron is a national treasure, representing renewal. Judging from the hexagram, this object is indeed a treasure with immense value and transformative power.”

“However,” he changed the subject, “in this hexagram, the fifth line is a moving line. The ninth line in the fifth place reads: “The tripod has yellow ears and a golden handle. It is advantageous to be firm and correct.” This is the most auspicious line in the entire hexagram, symbolizing that the vessel is beautiful, sturdy, and full of power that is conducive to upholding the righteous path. This is also the state that this sword is currently in—harmless and in the process of ‘self-purification’.”

"The essence of the I Ching lies in 'change.' When the most auspicious moving line is activated, the resulting hexagram will undergo a complete reversal."

Hector's tone became incredibly solemn at that moment.

"The resulting hexagram is 'Tianfeng Gou'."

"The upper trigram is Qian (☰), and the lower trigram is Xun (☴). Yin is born and rests beneath the five Yang trigrams. This is an ominous sign, symbolizing that beneath the seemingly strong and bright appearance, the weakest yet most deadly Yin element has quietly invaded!"

The hexagram text says: "Do not take a wife, for you should not marry her long-term."

Hector raised his head, looked directly at the Imperial Regent, and, word by word, uttered his final, earth-shattering conclusion.

"Sir, this sword is fake."

"It was a deadly 'romantic encounter' filled with deception and danger. It was a...perfect 'escape'."

The entire quiet room fell into a long, deathly silence.

Only that black-and-white footage documenting humanity's first steps on the moon continues to play silently and persistently on a loop.

Contrary to Hector's expectations, Macardo did not show any shock or anger. He simply stood there quietly, his face, as blue as an ancient map, expressionless.

But Hector's "Aura Observation" clearly "saw" that this living legend's originally calm and deep purple aura of spiritual energy, which was as still as an ancient well, suddenly contracted inward the moment he heard the words "golden cicada shedding its shell"!

After a long silence, Makado slowly uttered those two words. His voice, still aged, was as cold as the vacuum of interstellar space.

“I have no evidence, sir,” Hector replied frankly. “What I have presented is not a quantifiable ‘evidence’ from the Ministry of Justice.”

Instead, it was a highly probable risk assessment report from the "Intercepting Sect Academy," based on the mutual corroboration of "Tao" and "Qi."

He cleverly transformed his identity from an "informant" into a "risk assessment consultant".

“The data from the Sage Alcan is proof of the ‘weapon.’ It tells us that the energy decay model of this sword is ‘unreasonable.’”

“My divination is proof of the ‘Tao’. It tells us that beneath this ‘unreasonable’ appearance lies the essence of ‘deception’.”

“I cannot prove to you that Fabius Bayer definitely switched the magic sword. But I can prove to you,” Hector’s voice was full of unquestionable confidence.

"There is a deadly causal link between this sealed 'curse' and the real 'plague' that is quietly spreading within the Third Legion, a link that cannot be observed by any physical instrument."

“This is enough.” Macado slowly walked to the old wooden table and sat down.

He didn't look at the "fake" magic sword again, as if it were a worthless piece of trash.

“You did very well, son.” His voice was filled with genuine praise. “It was your immaturity that you didn’t see it on the spot, but you eventually realized it, and more importantly, you didn’t let anger cloud your judgment.”

"If you do not return to Terra, immediately demand from me and from the Emperor a 'trial' that could drag the Third Legion into a civil war."

“I turned a ‘truth’ that could have devastated the empire into a cold ‘intelligence’ that I could incorporate into my chessboard.”

Hector remained silent, knowing that this living legend had fully grasped his intentions.

“Now, tell me.” Macado’s fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic, pendulum-like sound.

"As my 'walking agent,' and as the empire's 'dean,' what... suggestions do you have regarding this 'intelligence'?"

Chapter 92 Prevention and Seed Program

Hector knew that the real test was only just beginning.

Makado was not asking for his "opinion".

He was testing his ability to understand the "situation".

The Imperial Regent's Chamber fell into a silence more terrifying than a vacuum, a silence heavy with the weight of thought.

Macado's eyes, which seemed to hold the weight of tens of thousands of years of human history, gazed silently at Hector.

That gaze was no longer that of a superior scrutinizing a subordinate, but rather more like that of an ancient chess player who holds the fate of billions of lives in his hands, watching a "flexible" piece and waiting for its next move.

He did not hesitate for a moment. During the long days of his journey home, he had already mentally rehearsed the game before him countless times.

“My lord, my suggestion is just one word.” Hector slowly raised his head, his dark, calm eyes, as deep as an abyss, looking directly at the Imperial Regent, neither humble nor arrogant.

"--'wait'."

Makado's eyebrows, those two sparse eyebrows that had long been grayed by time, subtly twitched upwards.

"Wait?" His voice carried a hint of danger. "Wait for what? Wait for Fabius Bayer to turn the entire Third Legion into his blasphemous gene laboratory?"

Or should we wait until Forgrim, that proud child, discovers he has been deceived a second time, and plunges completely into an even darker abyss?

“No, sir.” Hector shook his head calmly, his voice like that of the most patient physician dissecting the seemingly intractable illness of an anxious patient. “What we are waiting for is not an enemy, but ‘opportunity’.”

He slowly stood up and paced back and forth in the simple room filled with artifacts from ancient Terra. Every movement he made carried a calmness and harmony that was completely out of character for his age, like the push hands of Tai Chi.

"My family's medical classics say: 'To administer medicine after the disease has developed, or to quell chaos after it has ensued, is like digging a well when thirsty or forging a weapon when already in battle—is it not too late?'"

"It means that waiting until the disease has fully developed before administering medicine, or waiting until the rebellion has already occurred before trying to quell it, is like only thinking about digging a well when you are thirsty, or only thinking about forging weapons when you are about to go to war. By then, it is all too late."

“Fabius Bayer, what he planted was not a simple ‘conspiracy,’ but a… ‘disease.’” Hector’s gaze seemed to pierce through the walls of the room, through the thick crust of Terra, looking towards that distant, magnificent, and perilous sea of ​​stars. “A… cancer of the soul called ‘imbalance.’ And Primarch Vogrim, his powerful yet empty heart, was the perfect breeding ground for this cancer.”

“If we were to intervene now,” he paused, his tone becoming extremely grave, “it would be tantamount to detonating a bomb inside a critically ill patient. We might kill the cancer cells, but more likely, we would destroy the patient along with them.”

Macado's fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the ancient wooden table. He didn't speak, but Hector could "see" that his psionic aura was performing complex calculations and deductions at an extremely high frequency.

Primarch Forgrim has just awakened from a nightmare of self-destruction. What he needs most right now is not yet another condescending 'judgment' and 'doubt' from Terra.

What he needed was time and space, to allow himself, with his newly reconstructed and still unstable 'Dao,' to see firsthand just how ugly the malignant tumor quietly spreading within him truly was.

So, we 'wait'.

Hector's voice rang out again, this time with a sharper, more proactive edge: "But our 'waiting' is not passive inaction. Rather..."

"We cannot directly 'attack' the existing lesions. But we can 'protect' the healthy tissues that have not yet been infected!"

"But we can give our strongest and most critical warriors a dose of 'vaccine' before the plague arrives... a dose that will help them develop antibodies!"

“Vaccines?” A genuine, scholarly interest flashed in Makado’s eyes.

“Yes, a vaccine.” Hector’s lips curled into a wise smile. “A vaccine of thought. A vaccine of ‘the Way’.”

He stopped, turned around, and faced the living legend, slowly unfolding his grand blueprint—a blueprint he had long since conceived in his heart, a blueprint powerful enough to change the future of the entire galaxy.

"I named it—the 'Seed' Project."

"My lord, you possess the most extensive intelligence network in the entire empire. Your gaze can pierce through all the fog of war and see into every corner of the empire. I implore you to use your power to find and 'mark' those... the most special 'seeds' among all the legions."

"They may not be the most efficient killers in the legion, nor the most fanatical believers."

They might have felt a little confused about some of the overly extreme commands from their genetic father.

They might have felt a moment of bewilderment at the Empire's cold 'efficiency' after countless brutal wars of purification.

They might be the 'outliers' within their respective legions. They are the solitary reefs that, amidst the raging torrent, still strive to maintain independent thought.

"But their will must be as strong as steel! Their souls must be as pure as crystal!"

"At this moment, they all feel genuine love for the Empire and for humanity..."

"Utterly loyal!"

In Hector's mind, names that shone brightly in the "records" of another time and space flashed by.

Gallo, the Death Guard captain who, amidst the despair of Istvan III, still shouted "For the Emperor," and ultimately became the first Ranger Knight.