Having resolved his personal emotional issues, Alex suppressed his chaotic thoughts and finally refocused his attention on the 40K matters.
However, he was not in a hurry to return to that war-torn world.
His phone screen lit up, displaying a logistics message indicating a successful delivery.
He got up and went out, his destination clear—an important package awaiting him.
At the entrance of the community's package station, a massive object was particularly eye-catching.
It was a corrugated cardboard box, a meter square, with sharp edges; its dusty grey body stood out among the many small packages like a silent giant beast.
The oppressive size caused it to be placed separately in the open space outside the station.
"Mr. Chen, your package box is really big!" His neighbor, Liu Yi, had just picked up his small package and, seeing the giant box, stopped in surprise and, without a word, stepped forward to lend a hand.
It took their combined effort to move the heavy box onto the small cart Alex had brought.
"I had a friend custom-make a batch of things, and there was quite a lot, but I didn't expect him to send it all in one box," Alex said, holding the edge of the box and showing a slightly troubled smile, as if genuinely bothered by its size and weight.
The effort of moving it was only superficial for him.
An invisible force subtly flowed through his fingertips; his psychic power, like the most obedient servant, effortlessly bore most of the box's weight, making it feel weightless.
With his current psychic attainments, making a steel warship temporarily levitate was not difficult, but he still sincerely thanked the helpful Liu Yi.
Bringing the box home, he tore open the sealing tape.
Inside, eighteen smaller individual boxes were neatly stacked, in two layers, nine boxes per layer.
Looking at these orderly arranged boxes, a genuine sense of comfort welled up from Alex's heart.
The corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up, forming a mischievous smile tinged with anticipation and a hint of a "grand performance"—the prelude to a big event was at hand.
He meticulously checked each individual box, confirming that they were well-sealed and the contents were undamaged.
After a brief thought, he did not take out all the items from all the boxes.
He only selected one, with the Roman numeral "XVI" clearly marked on its lid.
The remaining boxes were re-sealed and pushed into his dedicated model room, filled with models, tools, and paints, for temporary storage.
As for the box marked "XVI," Alex carefully took out its contents. The object gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the light.
He did not examine it too much but directly placed it as a crucial "chess piece" into the special armory box in the corner of the room.
—
When Alex's consciousness once again descended into the 40K world, he did not possess his usual Governor chess piece but instead chose an adjutant of the Ash Knights.
At this moment, he was inside the Ash Knights' Chapter Monastery, located deep within the gas giant Rostov IV.
This fortress monastery was disguised as an unassuming gas collection and refining station, with crude metal pipes and roaring colossal distillation towers forming its external silhouette.
However, in the internal core chamber where the adjutant was, a massive curved observation window replaced the heavy industrial walls, fully displaying the breathtaking cosmic panorama outside.
Through the thick reinforced glass was the turbulent, spectacular view of the gas giant.
An boundless "ocean" of liquid metallic hydrogen surged below, while sulfur-yellow and rust-red cloud bands, like oil paints freely splashed by a cosmic artisan, churned, intertwined, and reshaped at dazzling speeds.
Gigantic ammonia ice crystal storms formed within them, rotating and pulling out cold, bluish-white glowing spiral arms extending for thousands of kilometers.
Every violent roll of the clouds released terrifying lightning capable of tearing apart starships—these rampant thunderbolts, like the very pulse of the universe, exploded deep within the thick cloud layers, momentarily illuminating the deeper, denser, mysteriously dark purple-hued massive cyclonic storms below.
The incessant low growl of thunder permeated through the ship's structure, forming a deep and constant background hum, constantly reminding those present that they were suspended above a world filled with endless energy and raw power.
And standing before this colossal window, which reflected the grandeur and ferocity of the cosmos, was an exceptionally tall—female.
Even by the standards of a Primaris Astartes, she was still considered "tall."
She possessed an otherworldly, almost perfect body proportion, with healthy, wheat-toned skin that, under the shifting, sometimes pale, sometimes crimson light from outside the window, gleamed with an inhuman, metallic cold hardness.
A thick mane of ink-black hair was intricately braided into a thick plait, cascading down to her broad yet smoothly contoured shoulders, with a few unruly strands brushing her sharply defined yet still softly feminine face.
Most striking were her deep-set eyes, with pupils of molten gold, an amber hue, now glinting with sharp and complex light, mirroring the raging thunder outside the window.
She wore a custom-fitted, sleek, and elegant yet powerful ivory-white Terminator Power Armor.
The armor's surface shimmered with a mother-of-pearl luster, and the shoulder and chest plates were engraved with majestic Aquilas and the Eye of Horus.
A massive wolf pelt cloak, the color of moonlight silver-grey, draped from her broad shoulders, silently telling of a hunting legend from a distant world.
At her waist, she wore an ancient-looking yet sharp ceremonial dagger, with a miniature wolf head emblem set into the hilt made of ebony.
And the two most striking weapons were:
Her left hand effortlessly held a massive, one-handed Power Hammer.
The hammerhead was not of traditional blunt design but enveloped in a cerulean energy field, accompanied by a deep, earth-pulsating hum.
Ancient inscriptions faintly appeared on the hammer's handle—this was a master-crafted replica of the legendary weapon "World Breaker," its force field core containing terrifying power capable of shattering the foundations of stars.
Her right hand wore a massive and master-crafted Power Claw—a perfect recreation of the "Horuss Claw."
The streamlined silver blades gleamed coldly, with complex energy field generators cleverly integrated into the elegant wrist structure.
Even more astonishing, a uniquely shaped Storm Bolter, full of ancient technological flair, was fixed to the armor from the wrist to the knuckles, with two ammunition belts feeding it from the right, silently indicating that it was not only a close-combat weapon but also a deadly ranged killer.
No words were needed; merely by standing there, her suffocating presence, stemming from the depths of her bloodline, was enough to make the entire space freeze.
"Do I need to introduce myself?" The woman asked, gazing at the adjutant controlled by Alex. Her voice was deep and magnetic, containing an undeniable power.
"Although we all know who you are," Alex said, looking back at her seriously, even with a hint of scrutiny, through the adjutant's eyes, "I still want to ask: are you clear about your identity?"
He indeed wanted to create a big stir, but he didn't want it to turn into a mess.
If this powerful being before him was unclear about her self-perception, he would rather immediately terminate this plan.
The woman did not answer immediately.
A complex ripple passed through the depths of her molten-gold eyes—that was the heavy burden of vast memories.
After a brief silence, her back straightened further, and a nearly instinctive pride, etched deep into her Gene-Seed, emerged: "I am Horus Lupercal, Warmaster of the Imperium, Lord of the Sixteenth Legion, Gene-Seed Primarch of the Luna Wolves."
Each title was delivered with resounding clarity, her tone carrying an undeniable sense of authority, as if reliving a glorious but vanished old dream.
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