Chapter 10: It

“No way, are you jealous of my handsome face?”

Zhou Yun made a slight adjustment to his lion-like visage, refining it to more closely resemble the arrogant countenance of Laine El. Jonsen from his memories.

But it still wasn’t quite right.

After all, Zhou Yun had never seen the Lion King’s true face—he’d only fashioned it from illustrations, chess pieces, and textual descriptions from his past life.

It looked like him, but not quite.

“Tsk, this Lion King’s face still isn’t handsome enough. Maybe I should just sculpt a Meifeng instead.”

“Meifeng? You mean Fugrym?” The winged figure in the white light paused.

He quickly realized Meifeng likely referred to the Primarch Fugrym, Son of the Emperor.

That Primarch, once called the Emperor’s Purple Phoenix, was now a purple serpent-demon of Slaanesh.

The winged figure shuddered slightly, as if recalling some dim memory.

After a long silence, he sighed and said, “I’m begging you—Laine’s face is fine. Don’t change it.”

Hearing the winged figure’s plaintive tone, Zhou Yun couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

He had no intention of actually sculpting Fugrym’s face.

Though before his fall, Fugrym had single-handedly raised humanity’s average attractiveness to the highest in the galaxy,

now he was a Chaos-LGTPQIA+ pansexual inter-species BDSM one-love-four-love Nanliang Primarch who had ascended to become a Daemon Prince of Slaanesh.

If Zhou Yun sculpted his face, he’d likely be corrupted by the Warp the next second.

“Fine, I won’t sculpt it—but you have to teach me how to make this face more like the Lion King.”

Zhou Yun thought for a moment, then looked at the winged figure in the white light.

“Alright, raise your eyebrows a bit. Shorten your chin slightly.”

The winged figure in the white light nodded reluctantly:

“Yes, the ears are just like that—now it’s starting to look more like Laine.”

The winged figure had initially resisted,

but as Zhou Yun shaped his face to increasingly resemble Laine El. Jonsen, he seemed to grow interested and began offering earnest guidance.

“There—it’s Laine. Exactly like this,” the winged figure in the white light said with a touch of awe.

Zhou Yun stared at his reflection in the mirror—the deep, cold, yet commanding lion’s face—and let out a quiet whistle.

No wonder Laine wasn’t popular among the Primarchs.

Setting aside his personality, just his face looked like the entire galaxy had raped his father.

Gloomy, stern, and utterly devoid of humor.

Anyone who dared crack a joke with him would get a uppercut straight to the face.

After stuffing the box of body clay back into his fourth-dimensional pocket, Zhou Yun placed the superpower hat on his head.

The hat bore a mechanical right hand in a white glove, looking like a ridiculous toy.

Once worn, Zhou Yun faintly sensed the presence of nonexistent organs, granting him abilities he’d never had before.

He focused his mind, fixing his gaze on a soda can in the corner of the room.

The mechanical finger on Zhou Yun’s hat pointed at the can, and the can floated into the air.

Then, with a gentle squeeze, the can exploded violently.

“Telekinesis. Next is—”

Zhou Yun concentrated, closed his eyes slightly, and his figure flickered—suddenly appearing at the room’s doorway.

Instantaneous teleportation

Zhou Yun checked his arms and clothing, confirming he could move his body clay and attire together,

avoiding the situation where only his body teleported while his clothes remained behind.

The last one is—

Zhou Yun focused his attention on his eyes, then—

The walls and floor around him became slightly transparent.

Focusing intently, he gazed downward and faintly saw the labyrinth of pipes beneath the ground—the Old Eighth District.

He took a deep breath, feeling a slight ache in his eyes and a sudden surge of fatigue within his body.

Zhou Yun closed his eyes and shut off his x-ray vision.

After testing the three abilities of the superpower hat, he found telekinesis and teleportation came naturally to him,

but x-ray vision was weaker—he needed intense focus to barely pierce the ground, and it drained his energy heavily.

Fortunately, x-ray vision wasn’t something he needed to keep active constantly; he could use it only when necessary.

Thinking this, Zhou Yun pulled out the Anywhere Ring from his pocket.

The entrance to the Old Eighth District was blocked by local gangs, but Zhou Yun didn’t need to enter through the entrance—

as long as he knew the area beneath was the Old Eighth District, he could use the Anywhere Ring to drill straight in.

He placed the Anywhere Ring on the ground and stepped through.

The Old Eighth District—a buried, labyrinthine network of pipes—

two gang members, smoking lit LHO cigarettes and wielding flashlights, patrolled the pitch-black tunnels.

“What the hell are the bosses looking for? Stuck in this dump all day,” the gang member on the left muttered.

The Old Eighth District had been buried underground for over a century; its power systems were long destroyed, and the air carried a stale, unpleasant odor.

That’s why he felt compelled to make small talk with his patrol partner.

“I heard from our squad leader they’re searching for an old PDF warehouse buried beneath us.”

“Supposedly, it’s full of guns and cannons and stuff.”

His companion flicked his LHO cigarette and said:

“They say they found it, but the whole warehouse is buried under collapsed rubble—can’t get in at all.”

“Looks like it won’t be dug out anytime soon.”

“Let it stay buried then.”

The gang member on the left took a deep drag of his cigarette.

“This place may be stuffy, but it’s just a lazy patrol—way easier than working in the Hive.”

His companion nodded in agreement.

The Hive was already a giant shitpit; a Hive without a Viceroy was shit within shit. Only the ruthless survived here.

Even these gang members faced constant danger in the Lower Hive—

attacks from rival gangs, desperate residents, enraged Hive worker collectives, internal gang conflicts.

Oh, and the cultists and heretics hiding in the shadows.

One day, you might just wake up as a corpse lying on the street.

Compared to that, this buried ruin felt downright peaceful.

Sure, the air was stale, pitch-black, and without power,

but at least you didn’t have to face the Hive’s dangers or its filthy air—the gang members felt a deep sense of relief.

“It’s literally amazing,” he told his companion.

Then he felt the ground slipping farther away beneath him.

Huh? Why am I actually floating? The gang member stared, bewildered, at himself and his partner hovering in midair.

Then, as if gripped by invisible hands, their heads slammed together—

Quack! When is GW going to separate the Imperial Heir?





(End of Chapter)