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

The door slid open silently.

Hector went inside.

The interior of the room was nothing like what he had imagined. There were no walls, no ceiling; he felt as if he were standing directly in a magnificent nebula. Above, below, left, and right, there were flowing rivers of stars and rotating galaxies.

In the center of the nebula, a gigantic figure was sitting cross-legged, suspended in the air.

He was much taller than the Space Marines, nearly five meters tall. His skin was a ruby ​​red, and his muscles were sleek and graceful, exuding a powerful, classical god-like aura. He wore only a simple white loincloth, and his exposed upper body was engraved with countless flowing, luminous golden runes.

He only has one eye left.

That eye, like a small star, burned with pure, golden psionic flames.

He is Magnus, the Crimson King, the Primarch of the Thousand Sons.

The moment Hector walked in, the single eye turned toward him.

“The one who holds the seal sent a child who can tell ancient riddles.”

Magnus's voice did not travel through the air, but resounded directly in Hector's mind. The voice was grand, wise, and full of majesty.

"He fears our power, yet he sends someone who can also see into the 'invisible' to observe us. The irony is... quite obvious."

Hector stood rooted to the spot, feeling an unprecedented pressure engulf him. This pressure was a thousand times greater than Macado's probing. Before Magnus, he felt like a child standing before a tsunami.

But he remained composed and prepared to answer, neither humble nor arrogant.

However, Magnus's voice rang out again, this time carrying a hint of... intense, unyielding surprise and confusion.

That burning single eye seemed to pierce through Hector's body, through his identity, and see into the deepest part of his soul, the mark from the 21st century named Lin Chen.

Magnus's massive body leaned slightly forward. The psionic flames in his eyes flickered violently.

"You... are very different."

The Crimson King's voice boomed like thunder deep into Hector's soul, carrying a hint of disbelief.

“Your soul… is not singing the ballad of the ‘Great Ocean.’ It is… humming a completely different tune.”

“Tell me, about this little ‘Regent’s Walk’…”

"What is that piece of music?"

Chapter 7 Learning and the Way

Under Magnus's star-like, questioning gaze, Hector felt as if his soul were being placed on an anvil, undergoing an invisible, creation-level forging.

The line between reality and illusion is blurring. He can feel the will of the Crimson King, like endless probes made of pure spiritual power, trying to pierce his memory, peel away the disguise of his soul, and explore the source of that "different tune".

The images of Lin Chen flipping through Warhammer concept art in a 21st-century library and Hector organizing old papers in Terra's archives began to intertwine and overlap wildly.

His secret, like a candle flickering in the wind, could be exposed at any moment to the boundless power of a psionic Primarch.

Hector, deep within the lake of his heart, uttered a low murmur that seemed to come from his very soul.

He abandoned thinking, abandoned reminiscing, abandoned all active thoughts that carried the presence of "self." At this moment, his spirit completely sank into that state of emptiness, where "extreme emptiness is attained and stillness is maintained."

He transformed into a valley, letting the howling wind sweep through.

He transformed into a deep pool, allowing boulders to be thrown into it, creating only a ripple before sinking to the bottom.

The true essence within his body circulated wildly along the Du meridian, like a celestial river flowing backward, guarding the last vestige of clarity in his mind. The powerful spiritual energy probe that had attempted to analyze his soul, after piercing this realm of "emptiness," seemed to have lost its target. After a brief moment of confusion, it was slowly dissolved and assimilated by the power of "stillness."

For the first time, a genuine look, a mixture of disbelief and fervent curiosity, appeared in Magnus's burning single eye.

He felt as if he were trying to grasp a wisp of smoke, or to draw a shape that didn't exist in the void. He could sense that "there was something" there, but the moment his power touched it, it turned into "nothingness".

He had never experienced this feeling before.

“An interesting defense.” Magnus’s voice rang out again, but the soul-crushing pressure receded like a tide. He withdrew his probing will, for he knew that forcibly breaking through would only destroy this interesting “sample.” “You haven’t built a mental barrier; you… you’ve turned yourself into an ‘empty city.’ Now, answer my question, child. What is that tranquil melody in your soul?”

Hector slowly opened his eyes; his back was soaked with cold sweat, but he had endured it. Faced with the Primarch's questioning, he knew that any lie was meaningless. But he could use a more subtle form of "honesty."

“Honorable Primarch,” Hector’s voice was slightly hoarse from the immense pressure he had endured, but it remained steady, “the melody you hear is not mine. It is the echo of the Tao itself.”

"It is the sound of 'silence'."

"The essence of the Great Ocean (subspace) is 'movement,' an endless roar of desires and energy that expands and fills every corner. The essence of the 'path' I follow is 'stillness.' It is about perseverance, restraint, and creating a 'space' amidst the clamor."

Hector raised his head, looked directly into the burning single eye, and uttered the words that would define this debate:

"Therefore, the song of the great ocean is an epic of 'accumulation'; while the melody of my soul is a solo of 'reduction'."

“Reduction?” Magnus’s massive body slowly descended, his feet gently touching the “ground” made of starlight. He took a few steps forward, each step causing the surrounding nebula to shift and change.

"An interesting statement. Knowledge is the truth of the universe. Power is the means to realize the truth. We, the children of a thousand wounds, have devoted our lives to 'accumulation'—accumulating knowledge, accumulating power—to enlighten humanity shrouded in ignorance. Yet you tell me that your path lies in 'reduction'? What do you want to reduce? Reduce wisdom? Reduce power? Isn't that a return to barbarism and ignorance?"

Faced with the Crimson King's questioning, Hector felt not fear, but rather a sense of...excitement. He knew that the upcoming conversation would be the moment he planted the most crucial seed.

“In my family’s classic texts, there is a saying,” Hector’s voice became distant and profound, “‘To learn, one gains daily; to practice the Way, one loses daily.’”

"To learn, one must accumulate knowledge daily?" Magnus repeated, his eyes gleaming with keen interest. "This is our creed."

“Yes,” Hector nodded, “but the second half is the key—'to diminish daily in the pursuit of the Way.' In order to find the ultimate 'Way,' one must reduce daily.”

“What is being reduced is not wisdom and power themselves,” Hector said, emphasizing each word, “but the ‘ego’ that controls them. It is our pride, our desires, and the arrogance that makes us think, ‘I can control everything.’”

He paused, organized his thoughts, and then uttered the metaphor he had already prepared:

"If the Great Ocean is a raging waterfall descending from the sky, containing boundless energy, then you and your legion are those who stand beneath the waterfall, attempting to directly receive and drink from this power with their own flesh and blood."

"You can get a powerful flow of water from it, that's undeniable. But at the same time, you will inevitably suffer from the mud, sand and rocks carried by the waterfall, as well as the impact that can destroy everything. The more you crave it, the wider you open your arms, the more violent the pollution and impact you will suffer."

Magnus narrowed his single eye slightly; this metaphor had clearly struck a chord with him. The legion's "mutation of flesh and blood" was the most direct manifestation of this "contamination."

Hector continued, “But the ‘Way of Silence’ takes a different path. Instead of receiving the waterfall from below, we dig a ‘well’ deep into the ground beside it.”

"We don't seek quantity or speed. We let the waterfall's water seep through the earth's 'filter,' undergoing layers of purification, reducing all its violence and filth. Ultimately, what we draw from our 'well' will be an incomparably pure, stable, and absolutely safe spring."

“This spring water may not be as vast as a waterfall, but every drop is within our control, and we can use it at will without any risk of backlash. This is the true meaning of ‘reducing and reducing again until we reach non-action. Through non-action, nothing is left undone.’”

The entire starry sky chamber fell into a long silence.

Magnus, the Primitive Man who was a learned celestial being, was utterly stunned by this simple yet profound metaphor.

He spent his entire life dancing with the beast of the warp, trying to tame it, to control it. He was proud of it, and he was also... tormented by it.

He knew better than anyone how deadly the silt in that "waterfall" was. But the boy before him offered a revolutionary solution he had never imagined—not to "control" it, but to "filter" it!

“Empty talk… it’s all just empty talk.” After a long while, Magus’s voice rang out again, but the condescending authority had disappeared, replaced by a scholarly, eager-to-verify desire to explore. “Prove it to me. Show me the ‘spring’ you draw from your ‘well’.”

Having said that, Magnus stretched out his enormous hand.

Within his palm, space began to distort. A fist-sized vortex, composed of pure subspace energy, appeared out of thin air. Within that vortex, colors shifted wildly, and countless distorted faces flashed by, filled with the power of chaos, madness, and entropy. Simply gazing upon it was enough to drive a mortal mad on the spot.

“This is a single, primordial drop of water from the Great Ocean,” Magnus said. “Let me see how your ‘Tao’ will ‘purify’ it.”

This is the final test, and also the most direct proof.

Hector took a deep breath and stepped forward. He felt no fear, for he knew that his "Way" had been born for this moment.

He extended his right hand, but instead of touching the chaotic energy ball, he slowly opened his palm a few centimeters away from it.

He closed his eyes, and his true energy circulated fully and without reservation!

Those strands of pure energy, refined from the Tao Te Ching and nourished by the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic, flowed into his palms along his meridians.

A strange scene unfolded.

Above Hector's palm, the air did not distort, and energy did not erupt. There, only an absolute, visible "domain of silence" had formed. It was a small, seemingly empty space, as if all things had returned to nothingness.

Under Magnus's control, the chaotic energy vortex sent out a tendril that slowly and tentatively reached towards Hector's "silent domain".

The instant those energy tentacles, filled with madness and chaos, touched the edge of the "silent realm"—

There was no explosion, no confrontation.

That wisp of energy was as if it had been thrown into an absolute zero vacuum; all its "movement," all its "chaos," and all its "entropy" were completely "erased" in an instant! It was "reduced"!

Immediately afterwards, from the "smoothed" energy, a wisp of energy, billions of times thinner than a hair, pure to the extreme, radiating a soft white light, was attracted by the "silent domain" and slowly drifted into Hector's palm.

This energy no longer harbors any malice or madness; it is gentle, pure, and full of the breath of life.

It slowly gathered in Hector's palm, and finally condensed into a drop... a crystal-clear droplet, radiating a faint light, like morning dew.

Hector opened his palm and showed the drop of "spring water" to Magnus.

Then, with a gentle breath, the drop of liquid transformed into pure energy and dissipated into the air.

Throughout the entire process, his expression remained calm, and his breathing was deep and even, as if he had simply done something extremely simple.

However, this scene stirred up a monstrous wave in the heart of Magnus, the Crimson King, far more violent than the spatial storm...

He... succeeded!

This child really succeeded!

He truly extracted the purest creative power from the most filthy, chaotic waters!

What... does this mean?

This means that the Legion's "flesh mutation," the curse that has plagued him and all his offspring for hundreds of years, may be eradicated!

“…Call Ahriman…in.” Magnus’s voice carried a hint of barely suppressed excitement.

The door slid open silently, and Ahriman, who had been waiting respectfully outside, walked in. When he saw the expression on his Primarch's face, a mixture of shock and ecstasy, he was stunned.

Hector knew that he had already achieved half of his goal.

He bowed slightly to Magnus, preparing to take his leave. But in that instant of turning away, he uttered his last words, as if by accident.

"Respected Primordial Being, on my way here, I used my 'I Ching' to cast a divination for you. I don't know if I should tell you about it."

“Speak,” Magnus said succinctly.

“The divination indicates…” Hector’s tone became ethereal, “that a great crimson cyclops stands atop the tallest white tower in the world. He is filled with anxiety, for he sees a wolf disguised as his brother invading his father’s palace.”

"He wanted to shout a warning, he wanted to save his father. But his powerful roar was too loud to kill the wolf. Instead, it shattered the foundation of his father's palace and brought a disaster more terrible than the wolf."

After Hector finished speaking, he walked towards the door without lingering.

"Sometimes, love that is too intense can be more destructive than the most vicious hatred. The best way to warn someone is not with a thunderous roar, but with... a quiet whisper."

He left that starry sky, leaving behind Magnus, lost in deep thought, and Ahriman, who looked bewildered but was immediately drawn to the Primarch's excited expression.

When Hector returned to the residence arranged for him, Ahriman was already waiting there.

The Ninth School Master, the future most powerful psionicist of the Thousand Sons, no longer possessed the pride and reserve he displayed upon first meeting. His eyes held the gaze of a drowning man who had spotted a lifeline.

“Mr. Kane.” Ahriman’s voice trembled with a hint of longing that even he himself was unaware of.

"The 'way of silence' you speak of... you say it can purify 'inner corruption'."

“Our legion…we are suffering from a curse that originates in our blood, a…corruption of flesh. No matter how much knowledge we accumulate, we cannot eradicate it.”

He stepped forward and stared intently at Hector with his eyes burning with curiosity.

"Your 'Tao,' your 'well' that can draw 'clear spring water'... can it become our antidote?"

"I need to know more. Please...teach me!"

Chapter 8 Prospero's Spark

Facing Ahriman's eyes, burning with a thirst for knowledge and even a hint of fanatical pleading, Hector Kane, for the first time, truly felt the weighty significance of "knowledge" in this universe.

It's not just words in a book, nor is it philosophical musings in leisure time. Here, knowledge is power, a weapon, an antidote, the only hope that can free a Space Marine legion from its millennia-old curse.

He knew that any decision he made at that moment could be like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating unpredictable ripples. Macardo's orders were to "observe" and "influence," not to "preach" and "instruct."

Getting too deeply involved in the internal affairs of the Thousand Sons is a huge gamble.

But looking at Ahriman, at the pure, earnest sincerity in the eyes of this future archmage—a sincerity that would sacrifice all pride to save his kin—Hector's compassion for "Lin Chen" ultimately prevailed.

He couldn't refuse. Because he knew that if he refused, the Son of a Thousand Wounds would have no more chances and would only go further and further down the road to utter ruin.

"Master of the Achriman School," Hector's voice was calm, but every word carried undeniable weight, "'The Way of Silence' is not a 'spell' or 'skill' that can be taught casually. It is first and foremost a... state of mind."

"State of mind?" Ahriman frowned slightly, seemingly puzzled.

“Yes.” Hector gazed at him. “The first step, and the hardest step, is not ‘learning,’ but ‘letting go.’ Letting go of your thirst for power, letting go of your pride in trying to control everything, letting go of your identity as Space Marines, as children of the Primarch. Can you do it?”

Ahriman fell silent. For the Son of a Thousand Wounds, who regarded knowledge and power as his life's pursuit, these words were tantamount to asking them to abandon their faith.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Hector continued, his tone carrying a hint of testing. “But I can discuss this philosophy with you, and a few colleagues you consider to be ‘like-minded.’ As for how much you can learn from it, that depends on your own ‘heart’ and not on my ‘teachings’.”