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

“Silence…” Makado slowly opened his eyes, repeating the word softly, “Silence contains power…using inner ‘nothingness’ to counter external ‘existence’…this…”

He looked at Hector, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I have made my decision.” Macardo stood up and walked to Hector. His thin figure seemed incredibly tall at that moment. “The Empire needs the knowledge you have spoken of. From this day forward, in the name of the Regent of the Empire, I will name it—the Way of Silence.”

He branded this legacy from another world with the official mark of an empire. This was insignificant to him, but he never gave up on any possibility for the empire.

“And you, Hector Kane,” Macado gazed at him, “you will become the first practitioner of the 'Way of Silence.' You will no longer be an apprentice in the archives, and your name will be erased from all worldly records.”

He handed Hector a black badge with an intricate design, half a key and half an eye.

"From this day forward, your identity will be 'Walking'. My direct agent. Your mission is to act as my eyes and ears, walking among the expeditionary fleet and the newly formed human world, observing, recording, and analyzing, using your 'Tao' to find those 'forces' hidden deep within that I, and even His Majesty the Emperor, might overlook."

Hector took the badge, and the cold metallic texture made him realize that his life had completely embarked on a path of no return.

“But,” Makado’s tone shifted, becoming serious, “trust must be earned with loyalty. Before I open a corner of the fate of the entire empire to you, you need to first interpret for me a piece of… the darkest history. A… pledge of your allegiance.”

Having said that, Macado turned and walked to a wall deep inside the room. He placed his hand on the wall, and with a low click, the wall silently slid open, revealing a passageway illuminated by a ghostly blue light leading deeper into the room.

"follow me."

Hector followed him into the passage. At the end of the passage was a huge, circular, metal-domed chamber. The temperature inside was extremely low, and the air was filled with a cold, static-like smell.

In the center of the room, two enormous spheres, composed of countless streams of data light, floated. One was a shattered silver, while the other was a dull, deep red, as if stained with blood.

“Here lies the Empire’s greatest taboo.” Macado pointed to the two data spheres, a barely perceptible sadness in his voice. “The Second Legion and the Eleventh Legion. And their Primarchs.”

"Their records were completely erased from all archives by order of His Majesty the Emperor. Their names, their achievements, everything about them, vanished into nothingness."

Macado turned and stared at Hector: "The official story is that they...failed. But I don't believe it. I need to know the truth. Now, with your 'Yi,' with your 'Tao,' tell me...what exactly happened to them?"

This is the ultimate test.

This test not only tested Hector's abilities, but also his courage and loyalty. Deciphering a taboo personally sealed by the emperor was itself a transgression.

Hector remained silent. He walked between the two enormous data spheres and slowly sat down cross-legged.

He closed his eyes, his entire being sinking into that "tranquil realm." He could feel the endless sorrow, anger, and a deep-seated sense of "mistake" emanating from those two data spheres.

He didn't try to decipher the fragmented data because he knew there were no answers in it.

He began to circulate the true energy within his body. This time, he was not merely "maintaining stillness," but also "sensing." He carefully extended his spirit, like the finest spider silk, toward that tragedy buried by time.

Based on the theory in the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic that "what is inside will inevitably manifest outside," he observed the "pheromones" emitted from the data sphere as a patient's "complexion."

The silver sphere emanated a kind of...cancer-like despair, as if the genetic chain had completely collapsed.

The dark red orb of light emanated a kind of madness... a madness in which reason was distorted and corrupted by some foreign force.

Finally, he took out the three hexagonal nuts and, on the cold, sealed floor, cast a divination for each of these two lost histories.

The result of the divination plunged his heart into despair.

After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes, his eyes showing a weariness and understanding that were beyond his years.

He raised his head, looked at Makado, and in a tone as if reciting a poem, filled with mysterious rhythm, delivered the prepared verdict:

"Its rise was swift, and its fall was sudden."

"Their rise was as brilliant as a shooting star; their fall was as swift as a shooting star."

"The fault lies not in the war itself, but in the failure of the Way."

"Their demise was not due to defeat in battle. Rather, it was because the 'path' they themselves had taken had gone astray. One was lost in the pursuit of the 'perfect physical body,' ultimately perishing in both body and spirit; the other was lost in the exploration of the 'unknown power,' ultimately losing his mind."

"When Yin and Yang are out of balance, and one is beset by internal and external troubles, one will eventually face divine retribution."

"One disaster stems from the collapse of the internal genes; the other disaster stems from the contamination of the external aliens. When the internal 'yin' and the external 'yang' are completely out of balance, it attracts His Majesty the Emperor's most severe... 'divine punishment.' In order to prevent the spread of this 'disease,' the only way is to completely eradicate them."

Hector finished speaking.

He didn't give any specific names or events. But what he described was already very close to the core of the truth—genetic collapse and alien contamination.

Makado's body trembled almost imperceptibly.

The expression on his face was no longer one of testing or inquiry, but rather a profound and unwavering sorrow and confirmation. It was as if Hector's words had confirmed the darkest suspicion in his heart.

He slowly closed his eyes, as if offering a silent tribute to his two deceased "sons."

When he opened his eyes again, all the emotions in them had faded, leaving only the iron-willed determination of an imperial regent.

He walked up to Hector and placed a shimmering data panel in his hand. In the center of the panel was Macardo's own seal—a key and an ouroboros.

"I accept your pledge of allegiance."

Makado's voice was deep and powerful.

"Your work begins now, my journey begins."

"Your first mission is to go to an expeditionary fleet. There resides one of the most outstanding, and also the one who worries me the most. He thirsts for knowledge and seeks truth; his talent rivals that of the Emperor."

"But his use of power and his exploration of the warp are far too dangerous. It's like a child playing with fire in a powder keg."

Macardo stared at Hector and said, word by word:

“Go, observe him, understand him. If possible, use your ‘way of silence’ to influence him, to awaken him.”

"Your destination is—the flagship of the Sons of the Thousand Sins, the 'Tower of Light'."

"The one you are going to see is Primarch Magnus."

Chapter 6 The Tower of Light and the Crimson King

After leaving the secret chamber that sealed away the Empire's taboos, Hector Kane's life, like a starship being dragged onto a new course, began an irreversible acceleration.

Two imperial guards escorted him silently once again, but this time, their demeanor subtly changed. They were no longer watching over him, but rather acting more like protectors.

He was taken to a separate residence in the upper part of the Imperial Palace, where the oppressive atmosphere of the Regeneration Center and the antiquity of the archives were no longer present.

The room is simple and solemn. Through the crystal windows, you can even see the magnificent building under construction in the distance, which will be called "Sky Tower" in the future.

He changed into a brand new outfit.

It was a long, dark gray robe woven from some unknown fiber, soft yet exceptionally tough. On the collar and cuffs, embroidered in silver thread, was an extremely subtle emblem consisting of a key and an ouroboros—Macardo's personal seal.

He was no longer a ragged orphan, no longer an apprentice numbered 2025-734. He was a walker, the eyes and ears of the Imperial Regent, a ghost walking in the shadows.

At dawn the next day, he boarded a high-speed shuttle that was entirely black and had no insignia, escorted by a squad of imperial guards.

The ship was incredibly fast, and in less than an hour it left Terra's atmosphere and docked next to a starship that was also unmarked and lurking in the shadows of the moon.

This was his first time entering space. Looking through the porthole at his home planet surrounded by countless starports and defense platforms, Hector felt a surge of complex emotions that were difficult to describe. That was his homeland, the place he had lived in both his previous lives.

"Prepare for a subspace jump." A cold, synthesized voice came from the bridge.

Hector was put into a separate cabin with only a bed and a table.

He knew that for mortals, warp travel was a nightmare. The vast majority of passengers would be forcibly injected with sedatives and put into a dormant state to prevent their minds from being corrupted by the maddening reality.

But Hector refused the medication. He told the officer escorting him that he needed to remain conscious to “adapt to and record” any unusual events during the voyage.

When the warship's Geller field activated, and the invisible barrier separating reality from the psionic sea hummed; when the warship's engines roared as they tore through space, plunging headlong into that colorful, bizarre, chaotic ocean, Hector finally experienced the true face of the warp firsthand.

It was a feeling that couldn't be described in words.

His mind was instantly overwhelmed by the endless torrent of information.

It was the screams of countless souls, the echoes of the birth and death of billions of civilizations, a chaotic symphony formed by desire, hatred, hope, despair... all emotions magnified a hundred million times.

The laws of reality completely fail here; time and space intertwine into a meaningless tangled mess.

Any untrained psionicist would have their soul completely torn apart and assimilated within that instant.

But Hector sat cross-legged in the center of the cabin, his eyes closed, his heart as firm as a rock.

"Know the male, but keep to the female, and be the valley of the world. Be the valley of the world, and your constant virtue will never depart from you, and you will return to the state of an infant."

The wisdom of the Tao Te Ching transformed into the dam of his "realm of tranquility." His spiritual world was no longer a stubborn rock trying to resist floods, but transformed into "the stream of the world"—a deep, humble valley.

The raging subspace energy surged forth, not blocked, but guided and diverted along the "momentum" of the valley. Ultimately, the most violent and filthy part poured out from the other end of his spiritual world and returned to the sea of ​​chaos.

In this process, extremely small but incredibly pure energy, like gold dust left after washing away the riverbed, settled in the lake of his heart.

His cultivation was actually accelerating in this most dangerous ocean!

What surprised him even more was that he could clearly "see" that his small cabin was like a fragile bubble in the raging waves of subspace.

The protective layer known as the "Geller Field" is under immense pressure, covered with invisible, twisted "claw marks," as if countless unseen beasts are trying to tear it apart.

With a thought, Hector slowly released a wisp of pure true essence from his body, like a wisp of green smoke, covering the inner wall of the cabin.

A miracle happened.

That layer of true essence formed an invisible membrane filled with "stillness" and "order".

When chaotic energy from the outside impacts the Geller force field, and even a very small amount seeps in, it instantly vanishes upon contact with this membrane, like snow being doused with boiling water.

He was able to "enhance" reality on a small scale all by himself!

The voyage lasted several weeks. When the warship left the subspace and returned to the real universe, Hector slowly opened his eyes. His eyes seemed to shimmer with starlight, even deeper and brighter than before. His cultivation had already faintly touched the threshold of the next meridian in the Eight Extraordinary Meridians.

"Arrived at target star system: Prospero."

Hector walked to the porthole and saw his destination.

It was a huge, magnificent fleet, like a work of art.

Unlike the utilitarian, rugged warships of the Imperial Navy he had seen before, each ship in this fleet was like a meticulously crafted work of art.

Their hulls are elegantly streamlined, painted in red, white, and gold, and engraved with countless intricate and beautiful hieroglyphs and geometric runes. In the silent universe, these runes emit a soft, visible aura of psychic energy.

At the center of this fleet is their flagship – the "Tower of Light".

It was an unimaginably massive ship, its hull structure truly resembling a towering tower piercing the clouds, imbued with ancient Egyptian architectural style. It didn't resemble a warship; it was more like a mobile, floating magic academy in space.

Soon, the black frigate he was on, guided by a beam of light, slowly entered the ship's aircraft port of the "Tower of Light".

The hatch opened, and two Space Marines clad in crimson power armor were already waiting at the bottom of the gangway.

They are the children of a thousand wounds.

Their armor was more ornate than any Hector had ever seen, inlaid with jewels and adorned with scrolls of papyrus covered in runes. They wore no helmets, and their exposed faces were not those of rugged warriors as one might imagine, but rather those of quiet scholars or ascetics. Their eyes were sharp and bright, carrying a hint of all-knowing pride.

The lead Space Marine wore more elaborate armor, with a magnificent crescent-shaped ornament atop his helmet. He gave Hector a slight nod, the movement elegant and with an air of aristocratic courtesy.

“Welcome to the Tower of Light, emissary from Terra.” His voice, calm and melodious, came through the armor’s speakers. “I am Azek Ahriman, Primarch of the Ninth School. Our Primarch awaits your arrival.”

Hector felt a chill run down his spine.

Ahriman! The future chief think tank of the Thousand Sons, the culprit who turned the entire Legion into rune demons, and also a regrettable and persistent genius in the entire Warhammer history.

The man before me was still young, his eyes filled with a thirst for knowledge and pride in the legion, not yet distorted by the despair that would follow.

“Thank you for your welcome, Master of the School.” Hector bowed in return, neither humble nor arrogant. “I am Hector Kane, and I have come in the name of the Regent of the Empire.”

Ahriman seemed slightly surprised by Hector's calmness, but he didn't ask any questions. He simply stepped aside to lead the way: "Please follow me. Before you pay homage to the Father of Genes, please allow me to show you the glory of our legion."

For the next hour, Hector, led by Ahriman, toured the "Tower of Light".

He was taken to a vast library, whose collection dwarfed any archive in Terra. It held knowledge from thousands of civilizations, encompassing everything from philosophy and mathematics to art and warfare.

He saw a vast astrological chamber where countless psionicists were observing the energy tides of the warp and predicting future voyages through crystals and astrolabes.

Ahriman's face always carried a deep sense of pride. He explained the Legion's philosophy to Hector: "Knowledge itself is neither good nor evil; ignorance is the only original sin. We pursue all knowledge to enlighten humanity and liberate them from ignorance and superstition. This is the ultimate form of His Majesty's 'Imperial Truth'."

Hector listened quietly, but his senses, honed by the "Way of Silence," detected a discord hidden beneath this glory...

He saw that when a think tank member cast a simple levitation spell, the air at his fingertips twisted almost imperceptibly, like flesh writhing.

He sensed that the Geller force field of this warship was much weaker than the ship he had come on, as if it were being eroded from the inside out by the overly active psionic activity within.

Even as he brushed past Ahriman, he caught a faint whiff of something akin to… “change” and “lies” emanating from the chief think tank member. It was the scent of the master of deception, Tzeentch.

They don't know.

These proud scholars believed they were in control of knowledge and power. Little did they know that they had already become pawns on the chessboard of a larger, more cunning will.

“Mr. Kane,” Ahriman seemed to notice Hector’s silence and asked, “what do you seem to think about our path?”

“Master of the School,” Hector carefully chose his words, “My ancestor once said: ‘To learn, one gains daily; to pursue the Way, one loses daily.’ The pursuit of knowledge is certainly important, but perhaps, tempering one’s own desires is more difficult than acquiring more knowledge.”

A dismissive smile flashed across Ahriman's eyes, as if he thought it was an outdated and conservative philosophy.

Finally, they arrived at a massive gate carved from moonstone. There were no guards on the gate, but Hector could sense that behind it lay a vast ocean of psychic energy.

“The father of genetics is inside,” Ahriman said, then respectfully stepped aside.