Thunk!!!
The moment Zhou Ye stepped inside the warship, he stopped.
Because what he found in the vast main hall of the ship -- Space Wolves and all -- was every single person present kneeling in uniform salute.
Even the stubbornly unruly Space Wolves.
And then Zhou Ye heard the sound of weeping.
From the Death Korps of Krieg.
"..."
He was quiet for a moment.
He had come here intending to perform a large-scale memory deletion. But now he found he could not quite bring himself to do it. Especially not after watching the Death Korps -- who on the battlefield had charged without hesitation, who would never cry out even at the moment of death -- simply break down the instant they saw him.
They had charged with such absolute ferocity on that field. They had nearly burst through the protective barrier he had held up for them. If he hadn't shoved the Astartes Dreadnought Ancient directly into their path to physically hold them back, an entire formed regiment would have been reduced to fewer than one in ten by the end.
And these people were now weeping.
"All of you, stand up. First things first -- I am not a Primarch."
They had completely accepted the Primarch classification. He remembered how Guilliman's return to Terra had reduced people to sobbing incoherence the moment they saw him, to the point where Guilliman couldn't even hold a basic conversation. Zhou Ye now understood the problem personally.
But he also didn't quite know how to phrase a correction.
He had just killed a Daemon Primarch one-on-one. He had then detonated a planet. Then flown out of the explosion on golden wings and crossed the void to land on their ship.
So when he said "I'm not a Primarch" there was perhaps a certain lack of conviction behind it. Even he could hear it.
After all, by any reasonable accounting: the Grey Knights had spent over a hundred warriors across multiple engagements merely to banish Mortarion. A single Angron had nearly punched clean through a combined Blood Angels and Dark Angels army -- and if the Lion hadn't arrived in person, who knew what would have been left. And this time, a Daemon Primarch had appeared on the field without a single Grey Knight present. The people fighting had not even constituted a full sector's primary force. They were running on the Imperium's scraps -- and they had fought an Apocalypse-class engagement against Nurgle's main host.
Most of them had survived to leave.
Say that to anyone and they probably would not believe it. But under the leadership of a great son of a god, perhaps nothing was impossible.
When Zhou Ye walked past the Death Korps Colonel, he noticed something in that hardened soldier's eyes.
Longing. A desire to say something.
"Krieg's sins were long since repaid. But the Imperium needs Krieg..."
He trailed off into silence. He did not know what to say. The Imperium was a thing of rot and revulsion -- and yet endless heroes threw themselves into its service without stopping, holding that rotting machine upright and moving forward.
Just as the Aeldari Empire's destruction had been a spectacular fireworks display of hubris, the fall of the human Imperium would be the very last drop of every hero's blood squeezed out across ten thousand years. When it finally fell it would fall with the weight of that.
Games Workshop probably would not let the Imperium actually fall -- they needed to keep making money, after all. The legendary Tyranid main fleet beyond the galactic edge would probably never arrive. And if it ever did, what would follow would almost certainly be the spectacular tableau of Chaos, humanity, Necrons, and Orks all standing on the same side.
But the reason for Zhou Ye's silence was simpler: he genuinely was not a Primarch. And no matter what he said, these people were never going to believe him. And he did not know what would happen if word got out.
He was not afraid, frankly. Could the Imperium actually kill him? Good luck finding him first. Besides, he would just build a new identity and change his face when he got back.
So....
"Forget it. Consider this a moment of being someone impressive."
"Uwaa..."
Sure enough -- the entire Death Korps went blank for a beat at those words. Then a significant number of them simply began weeping openly. Their young Commissar quietly wiped his own eyes.
He understood these Death Korps soldiers. They looked rigid and fearless. But they were not hollow. They were the Imperium's most ferocious warriors, and equally the ones who most desperately hungered for recognition. To fight alongside a son of a god -- to hear a son of a god speak words of acknowledgment directly to them -- for Krieg, the weight of that was difficult to measure.
Since things had come to this point....
Zhou Ye reached into a fold of space and produced what appeared to be a tattered length of cloth. He handed it to the Death Korps Colonel.
"This is the cloak of the Daemon Primarch Mortarion. I have already purged the corruption and plague from it. Consider it a symbol of your honor."
"Hiss..."
Every Space Wolf nearby drew a sharp breath simultaneously.
This person had just banished a Daemon Primarch. He had then immediately handed part of that Primarch's remains to a mortal regiment.
Even the Space Wolves coveted something like this. And it was being given to a baseline human regiment....
But Zhou Ye had already moved on, turning toward the Space Wolves.
The pack of Space Wolf cubs stood to immediate attention, backs rigid. They had thought of him as an overworked Chapter Master before. But the figure who had returned from that battlefield carried no trace of that exhausted administrative energy whatsoever. Instead what radiated off him was an authority so absolute it was physically difficult to meet head-on. Every one of them stopped breathing. And moreover...
"My Lord."
The Space Wolves Dreadnought Ancient looked up at Zhou Ye. His Dreadnought chassis was comprehensively shattered. In this state, the only things capable of repairing him were Zhou Ye or the original STC -- and the Adeptus Mechanicus would not volunteer a precious STC to repair a single Contemptor Dreadnought. Compared to a Warlord Titan or an Emperor Titan, the calculation was obvious.
"You have completed your penance. Your brothers have chosen to accept you back. Are you willing to return to Fenris? I will transfer your Gene-seed to the Space Wolves when the time comes."
Zhou Ye had been worried about exposure at first, but that concern had now become irrelevant. They were never going to dare pry the sarcophagus open themselves. And even if they did -- there was a real person in there, just one reduced to partial brain, partial spine, a half-collapsed heart, and a Gene-seed at his core. The Gene-seed was technically removable -- but Zhou Ye was confident not a single Space Wolf present would dare attempt it.
More importantly, during the Great Crusade era, Gene-seeds were not treated with the obsessive reverence of the current age. The Emperor had been alive, the Primarchs present, the Imperium's greatest scholars and geneticists all available. Gene-seeds were not extracted the way they had to be now. By reading the Ancient's memories, Zhou Ye could confirm: this Space Wolves Dreadnought's secondary Gene-seed had never been recovered.
"...Ancient."
The fifty-odd surviving Space Wolf cubs who could still move turned their most pitiful expressions simultaneously onto the Dreadnought.
"..."
The old Ancient was silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly:
"I agree..."
"Very well, Lemont Icefang. From today your mission within the Star of Trailblaze is complete. From this moment you leave the Star of Trailblaze and return to the Space Wolves."
"Ohhh..."
A ripple of quietly clenched fists passed through the Space Wolf pack. Every one of them struggling to contain their excitement.
If Zhou Ye had refused, not a single Space Wolf -- up to and including Bjorn the Fell-Handed and Logan Grimnar -- would have had the standing to demand the Ancient back. But now they could bring an Ancient home with them. A genuine Dreadnought Ancient of the Great Crusade era. They were going home with honor.
"Additionally -- Space Wolves. What happened here will not simply end when you leave. My existence cannot be made public yet. But once word of me spreads, it will shake the entire Imperium in ways I cannot fully predict. So I require each of you to swear by Russ and the Emperor that every warrior who survived this battle will remain safe. That they will be protected from unwanted attention."
"We swear it!!!"
Every Space Wolf present answered without a moment's hesitation.
Zhou Ye nodded, satisfied.
The M30 Space Wolves, he would not have trusted with this. The M41 Space Wolves were a different matter. These were the people who had produced the Months of Shame. Their standing and strength could actually guarantee the safety of the surviving forces. And he trusted their word.
Besides -- Zhou Ye knew full well that when word of him spread, it was going to send enormous shockwaves through every corner of the Imperium. But so what. Could the Imperium mobilize several hundred thousand Astartes to hunt him down? They would have to find him first.
And this universe had a specific property to its prophecy: it operated through specific ripples in the Warp. He had no presence in the Warp. They could prophesy all they wanted -- they would prophesy against an absolute blank. An empty socket. Any seer who attempted to locate him would likely suffer causality backlash and eliminate a considerable portion of their fellow prophets in the attempt.
By the time they had spent a few hundred years sorting that out, Zhou Ye would already have completed the first phase of his plan. Once enough Star Rail tracks were laid, he would not fear anything short of the Emperor himself standing up. And Zhou Ye did not believe he and the Emperor were going to come to blows. When that moment came, who would be enemy and who would be ally was still an open question.
He gave a final nod, then divided Mortarion's remaining scraps between the Space Wolves and the Aestia Mixed Regiment, one piece each.
There was no better souvenir than something recovered from the body of a Daemon Primarch. Both groups would treat these as holy relics, reverenced for ten thousand years.
With that settled, Zhou Ye turned to leave.
"My Lord -- do you truly have no desire to return?"
The Space Wolves Dreadnought Ancient spoke quietly. It made every Space Wolf cub's heart clench.
They genuinely wanted a Primarch to stand up. To go back to Terra and clean house. And this particular figure commanded several ten-thousand-year-old Dreadnought Ancients. If that news reached the right ears -- the Space Wolves, the Ultramarines, the Imperial Fists, the Blood Angels, even the Dark Angels would all respond. The ancient Imperial Fists Dreadnought among his forces could alone directly invoke the Last Wall Protocol. With enough will behind it, one could seize control of Terra through sheer overwhelming force.
As for the Custodes...
Well. Everyone had just witnessed what the golden divine fire looked like. Everyone present knew what the Emperor's own consciousness would choose, if given the opportunity to weigh in.
"The time for my return has not come yet..."
"Return for what? To work overtime?"
Zhou Ye shook his head quietly, keeping the rest of his thoughts internal.
He was confident that if he went to meet the Emperor, that particular golden individual would have absolutely no objection to retroactively classifying him as a Primarch. But Zhou Ye had no interest in becoming anyone's son. So: better to continue on his own terms for now.
And besides -- he genuinely lacked the capability to administer the grotesque, overgrown, rot-ridden Imperium of Man. The only person with that capability was Guilliman.
He said nothing more. And then he was simply gone.
A ship full of people who had lost something they had not known they wanted.
"To think we fought under a being like that. What an extraordinary honor."
The Aestia Mixed Regiment Colonel watched the departure and could not stop the words from leaving his mouth. Then he turned to look at his Commissar, who was unhappily stroking his bottle.
"My precious Amasec...
"..."
But before the Commissar could finish mourning, the warship's outer door opened again. Several Thunderhawks settled alongside, and a group of Star of Trailblaze Astartes stepped out.
Then:
"This is a gift from the Chapter Master. It includes over a hundred tonnes of bananas, watermelons, grapes, and assorted other fruits."
The entire warship erupted.
Even the Space Wolf cubs were drooling. But at that exact same moment, every last one of them shuddered, because they felt behind them the Dreadnought Ancient's intensely chilling stare.
...
---o---
"The planet is destroyed. The Warp storm Nurgle raised has ended. They should be able to depart soon. Ai-chan -- what is the status of the refugees, the Lamenters, and the Dark Angels?"
"The Lamenters and the Blood Angels Dreadnought have gone to offer prayers together. They sustained several losses this engagement. But their Gene-seeds were preserved -- we can use those for cultivation. Whether to provide them with replacements is your decision. As for the Dark Angels, they have temporarily gone to stay with their family. The entire family is currently together in their cabin. They can't perceive anything outside."
"What about Rylanor's condition. He wasn't woken up for this battle. I wonder if he'll come looking for trouble with me when he does wake up -- a battle of this scale isn't exactly common."
"Still dormant. Using the Captain's Authority to slowly help him restore the soul-lifespan consumed during the long sleep."
"In that case -- set sail. Head for the previously marked planet. Nearly a million people crammed together in one place cannot go on like this. I need to begin recruitment as well. A million isn't many, but it's something."
With the Space Wolves having departed, Zhou Ye gave the order. He had already sealed everyone into their cabins -- they could not see what was outside. He could jump-translate them directly to a new location. As for his new identity, he had already settled on it.
He would operate as a Rogue Trader. Someone who could produce a few Dreadnoughts when needed. He refused to believe he could stumble into another Grand Free-for-All disaster this way.
As for recruitment quality -- there was less to worry about than it might seem. Astartes recruitment in the M41 era was extreme selectivity from already exceptional candidates. But in the M30 era it had not been so strict. Most recruits had already reached adulthood before undergoing the Astartes procedure. High death rates were acceptable -- his Authority of Creation could sustain anyone through a procedure that might otherwise kill them. If compatibility was truly impossible, he could always remove the Gene-seed and try again with someone else.
Down the line, he would break out two companies to conduct ongoing exploration. Lay Star Rail tracks. Spread further.
This battle had made him an extraordinary profit. The Nurgle plague fleet's main force had run the moment he killed Typhus -- he hadn't been able to get them all. But the T'au warships were an unexpected bonus. Once he processed those, returned to the uninhabited mineral world and mined it further, he could construct another Battle Barge. Two companies in that new ship, continuously exploring.
For himself: the Rogue Trader identity. He simply refused to believe he could walk directly into another catastrophe of this magnitude.
Although this time he was genuinely frustrated. An absolute disaster from start to finish, and in the end he did not even have a planet anymore.
Zhou Ye gave the command. Both ships jumped simultaneously and vanished.
When they emerged, a brilliant blue planet hung before them.
Zhou Ye summoned Governor Tillius.
"This is your new planet from now on. I spotted it during my voyage -- an uninhabited habitable world."
"My Lord, you are truly merciful beyond measure."
The Governor looked out from Zhou Ye's throne toward what lay below, and the cries of astonishment escaped him involuntarily. After losing his original world, he had been deeply worried about how he would continue to fulfill the mission this divine Lord had entrusted him with. The last thing he had expected was a new planet this quickly.
"Open ship-wide broadcast. Inform everyone. Then have them prepare to disembark. And I'll conduct a small-scale recruitment while we're at it."
Zhou Ye intended to establish this place as a semi-permanent base of operations. He planned to bring additional population in from nearby Hive Worlds. With his means, he could filter out anything undesirable. He also intended to rest here properly -- his Thousand-Person Theater currently contained an extremely eclectic collection of occupants, including a number of Nurglings and Beasts of Nurgle wandering around freely inside it. He had scooped them up in the last moments before the planet detonated. Their destructive capacity was limited -- they couldn't crack the Theater's internal defenses -- but leaving them there indefinitely was not sustainable.
Beyond that, he had a significant pile of corrupted Titan and Knight wreckage requiring processing.
So Zhou Ye intended to settle here briefly. Get this place running. Then resume his original Trailblaze plan.
The last episode had been hamstrung by two factors: too few Star Rail tracks laid, and no one actually using them. He couldn't publicly announce the network yet. So his plan was to cultivate a group of his own people to walk the tracks. Not explorers -- rather, resource integrators, moving along the existing routes to consolidate as much as possible. They would all become his Kin, under absolute loyalty. No risk of information leaking. As for the population to draw from -- the Imperium had effectively unlimited numbers. A few Hive Worlds and no one would even notice the difference.
Then --
"Emperor above -- what kind of planet is this."
The survivors emerging from the ship stared at the lush world below, faces cycling through shock in rapid succession. Then, after the initial disbelief passed, every single one of them dropped to their knees before Zhou Ye.
This reflexive gesture made Zhou Ye pause.
Then his expression shifted.
Because he had just sensed a very specific something flowing toward him. Something that was...
Faith.
"Damn it!!!"
He swore under his breath. The moment he recognized the energy type, he immediately neutralized it with Imaginary energy -- the faith could not be allowed to generate a Warp ripple from him. But looking at the reaction of the people kneeling before him, he knew that even if he struck them all dead, they would probably consider it a blessing. To have given this divine being even a moment of pleasure with their deaths -- that would be honor enough.
Since that was the situation, Zhou Ye moved quickly.
He quietly shaped a golden figure, several meters tall, and placed it before the crowd.
"We are all children of the God-Emperor. Everything we have received today comes from the God-Emperor's grace. So -- praise the God-Emperor!!!"
"Praise the great God-Emperor!!!"
The crowd erupted into grateful tears at those words.
And Zhou Ye clearly felt that specific energy shift -- redirecting itself cleanly away from him, surging instead toward a certain golden recipient somewhere in the distance.
"Golden boy. You've been worshipped for ten thousand years. You won't miss one more offering."
He nodded, thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement.
"I shall build a statue of the God-Emperor over one hundred meters tall here, to express our eternal devotion to His glory!!!"
"Uwaa..."
The crowd watched Zhou Ye standing there -- a golden figurine in one hand and an Imperial Catechism in the other, projecting every quality of a completely dedicated holy man -- and the expressions of profound spiritual emotion on their faces were universal.
People began reciting scripture passages aloud through their tears.
And so it was settled. Zhou Ye began methodically dealing with the Theater's contents. The Lamenters and the Dark Angels were sent out to help the survivors establish settlements and clear the planet of any dangerous native wildlife.
And Zhou Ye kept his promise, of course.
On a cliffside nearby, using his Authority of Creation, he shaped a statue over one hundred meters tall, gold-gleaming and radiant, its form modeled after the various Emperor figurines he remembered from his previous life. Strikingly lifelike.
A passing Word Bearers patrol that happened to detect it from orbit expressed deep approval, descended to its base, and wept at the feet of the Emperor's image while explaining the Emperor's greatness to the new faithful.