Chapter 229: Warmaster, Daiwen Satellite Has Arrived

Zhou Yun had probably made a mistake,

he had always said that since arriving in the Warhammer universe, only Kain's axe and Bal's wine had harmed him,

but he had forgotten that back in the hive city, something else had hurt him too,

the train—the swaying, rickety monorail of the hive city.

Who would have thought, who would have thought, that the train leading from Shechi Fortress to this so-called "Daiwen" was the same kind?

To those mad, cunning chickens, they were aboard a starship,

but to Zhou Yun, this was nothing but a crude monorail, heading to a satellite city near Shechi Fortress.

The train rocked and shuddered, clearly built by the chickens in earlier times,

though Zhou Yun, clad in the Ghost DX suit, was immune to his old motion sickness, the memory of that sensation felt like being struck again.

Zhou Yun rubbed his head slightly, though it did no good—his real hand and his real brain were separated by several layers.

"Are you unwell from warp travel?" A low voice sounded behind Zhou Yun.

To the chickens, they were not on a rail line—they were undergoing warp travel.

"I've experienced as much warp travel as the Iron Hands Primarch's head and the meat inside their Dreadnoughts."

Zhou Yun answered almost instantly,

he had never experienced warp travel, just as the Iron Hands Primarch Ferrus Manus had no head, and the Dreadnoughts had no flesh.

"A strange metaphor." The man behind Zhou Yun slowly walked to his side.

Zhou Yun turned his head and saw it was the chicken Horus.

It had begun to resemble the old Horus, its body entirely covered in chitinous armor grown from its own flesh,

though only vaguely so,

it lacked the terrifying aura only a Primarch possessed—not born of flesh, but emerging from something deeper beneath the material shell.

"I'm curious."

The chicken Horus looked down at Zhou Yun and spoke softly:

"Why did my brother Sanguinius send you here to protect me?"

Zhou Yun thought in his heart: sent to kill you. But he also sensed something odd—why had this chicken suddenly asked this?

It had clearly accepted his presence before.

"To express brotherly concern," Zhou Yun said sincerely. "To celebrate your ascension as Warmaster."

His fingers lightly brushed the Thermal Performance Panel & Robot Director.

The chicken Horus fell silent for a moment, then asked: "Is it Erebus?"

Instantly, the air grew still. The two stood facing each other in the carriage.

Zhou Yun raised his eyebrows slightly,

this was not how history went—this fake Horus had sensed Erebus's issue?

That was unusual.

"My children may think you're mocking them."

"But I sensed—you were mocking Erebus and me."

The chicken Horus's eyes flickered with anger, fixed on Zhou Yun:

"Tell me—did Erebus deceive me? Did Tamba not betray me?"

"At least on this matter, it did not deceive you," Zhou Yun said softly.

He pressed down his cap, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips,

he had underestimated these chickens—their bodies were alien, but their minds and actions were echoes of the Thousand Sons from ten thousand years ago,

especially this Horus—a resonance of the Primarch's spirit and behavior.

Horus was among the very best of the Emperor's sons; even a resonance was extraordinary.

"Tell me, what task did Sanguinius give you?" Horus asked in a lowered voice.

"If I tell you, will you send someone to kill Tamba?" Zhou Yun asked knowingly.

"Is it about Tamba? No, I won't."

The fake Horus shook his head:

"I will not let others cleanse the stain from my honor."

"Even if there might be traps or danger?" Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow.

"I am a Primarch, the continuation of the Emperor's gene-seed, the son of the Lord of Mankind."

Horus burst into laughter, all his anger dissolving in the sound,

"I am Horus, the First Son of the Emperor, the Warmaster chosen by my Father—no trap or danger can defeat me!"

He clapped Zhou Yun on the shoulder and said calmly:

"Does Sanguinius doubt my shoulders are too weak to bear my own honor?"

"If that day comes, I will give him the title of Warmaster—let him sit in this seat."

"Son of Sanguinius, you may judge me with your own eyes. I grant you that right."

With that, Horus walked away from Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun shrugged slightly,

he had expected this outcome—no one could stop Horus from personally killing Tamba.

Even telling him it was a trap would not change it,

in history, Loken had warned Horus too, and it's hard to say the historical Horus hadn't sensed Erebus's deception,

but Horus chose the tactic that had been repeated by countless others for ten thousand years,

out of honor, and out of other emotions,

Horus had not been universally accepted as Warmaster,

in his eyes, some—like Leman Russ and Roboute Guilliman—were jealous of the position,

Russ always believed himself the eldest, Guilliman endlessly ambitious.

To Horus, Warmaster was not merely honor and power,

it was the Emperor's, a father's, affirmation—the proof that in the Emperor's heart, Horus was the finest son, the validation of his status as First Son.

He could forsake power and enemies, but he could not bear to have his father's approval stolen.

So he would not retreat—even knowing danger and traps lay ahead, he chose the most honorable path.

Mephiston, disguised as an Ogryn, slipped silently to Zhou Yun's side.

"Lord Zhou Yun, what happened?" Mephiston whispered.

"... othing. Just heard, ten thousand years ago, a child's longing for his father's approval—so desperate he feared even a fraction might be taken by his brothers."

Zhou Yun pressed down his cap and shrugged:

"Honestly, Mephiston, though many treat Primarchs as gods or extensions of the Emperor's divinity, they are far closer to humanity than people imagine."

"Even human frailties—childishness, vanity—don't fade in them; they're amplified."

He remembered how, in history, Garviel Loken had said: the Primarchs were collections of human traits.

He truly had eyes that saw truth.

Mephiston paused, hesitated, then asked: "Including Sanguinius?"

"Of course," Zhou Yun nodded slightly.

Mephiston opened his mouth to speak—but then the train halted. Outside the carriage, a chicken settlement appeared.

"Warmaster, Daiwen Satellite has arrived." Zhou Yun's lips curled into a smile.

BOOM!!

The meltagun shattered a chicken's skull,

Zhou Yun strode through the swamp, listlessly killing chickens in the settlement with his meltagun,

the entire settlement was submerged in strange marshland, the chickens shambling forward like mindless zombies, attacking Zhou Yun and the Sons of Horus chickens,

but in Zhou Yun's eyes, they were just ordinary chickens,

in history, Daiwen Satellite had indeed been corrupted by Nurgle, filled with plague zombies,

but these chickens merely believed themselves to be plague zombies,

how pitiful—other chickens thought they were Blood Angels or Sons of Horus; these poor fools thought they were plague zombies.

As he thought, Zhou Yun trudged through the swamp,

the Sons of Horus chickens split into two squads, attacking from two directions,

Abaddon, Horus, and Little Horus in one group,

Zhou Yun and Captain Loken in the other.

Zhou Yun didn't care—he only planned to loaf until Horus neared death, until Erebus revived him,

after that, he would stuff the fake Horus and the Dark Angel dwelling within him into a fourth-dimensional pocket.

BOOM!!!

Meltagun fire blazed like a sun in the darkness,

one problem annoyed Zhou Yun slightly—these chickens were hard to tell apart,

whether Sons of Horus chickens or plague zombie chickens, to Zhou Yun they looked nearly identical, except the Sons of Horus had thicker chitinous armor,

mixing them up meant he might hit his own side.

Suddenly, Zhou Yun's instinct sensed someone approaching from behind.

He spun around swiftly, not slowed much despite being in the swamp.

A Chijie was darting between the buildings behind him, closing in on Zhou Yun at high speed.

Zhou Yun's voice shifted slightly, and in the blink of an eye, he stood before the Chijie, his thermal pistol aimed to pull the trigger—

"Oh, it's Lieutenant Lokan."

Only when he drew closer did Zhou Yun recognize the Chijie as Lokan, barely avoiding firing by accident:

"I almost took you for a zombie."

The Chijie Lokan lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed intently on Zhou Yun.

Then, the Chijie Lokan launched a sudden attack, slashing at Zhou Yun with the blunt back of his scythe-claw.

Zhou Yun shrugged—he had already activated the Acceleration Gear, and Lokan's speed seemed sluggish to him.

"Puhhh!!!!"

Lokan saw nothing of Zhou Yun's movement—only felt a crushing punch to his abdomen, sending him sprawling into the thick swamp.

In his vision, two scenes twisted grotesquely together:

In one, he was an Astartes, a warrior of the Shadow Wolves;

in the other, he was an alien, a insectoid creature with sharp claws and chitinous armor.

But in either scene, the Lokan reflected in this man's eyes was always a grotesque alien.

"In your eyes, am I—or are we—much like these reanimated corpses?"

"Like a hideous, deformed insect?"

(End of Chapter)